I’ve never really been challenged in my life. In many ways I’ve been very blessed. However, because of this, I have not been tested. I’ve never had any really defining moments in which my character or values were being put to the test. No opportunity for me to say, “Hey, that’s not right,” or “this is what I believe to be true.”
I want to make sure that when those moments come I do not sit passively by. I want to know that I would stand up for what I believe in, be my own voice.
Recently, a woman I seriously underestimated stood up for what was right. She was so self-possessed, so sure of what needed to be done and did not hesitate to put herself in an uncomfortable situation and say, “This cannot happen and I will not let it happen.”
The greatest thing about it, she was standing up for someone else. She was being a voice for a child who needed her help. I know this sounds very vague. It’s work-related and I can’t really go into it but let’s just say that she did what was right in a difficult situation. That’s true character right there.
I want to do the same. I have lived a very privileged life. I have a voice. I have character. I have opinions and values and I will stand up for what is right and what is true. I want to lend that voice to others. I want to stand up for those that need my help, whose voices are more like whispers, ignored or unheard.
I don’t have to be afraid. I know what’s right and only good can come from being an advocate of courage, compassion, and conviction. Just like she did.
I want to remind myself every day that I can be “as bold as a lion.”
Thank you, Lord, for my many blessings. I don’t deserve them but I am so grateful. I know you have a plan for my life, please give me the strength and wisdom necessary do your will.
-Age
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Oh, So That's a Stagecoach
So this weekend made me realize something. I’m getting old.
I went to Stagecoach which is a weekend-long country music festival. The first night I drank way too much. Lots of Sex on the Beach and stumbling. The second day was Hangover Day. We walked around to all the different camps, visiting different friends and family in the blistering heat. By the time we made it to our spot in front of the main stage (they called it the Mane Stage – you know, like a horses’ mane? Cute, huh?) I was feeling really unwell. But after the sun went down and my body temperature lowered to a reasonable level, I began to perk up and had a great time listening to Sugarland and Keith Urban. Sugarland was by far my favorite, they were amazing!
The third day was much better. I’d recovered mostly, hydrated often, and we didn’t do so much dang walking. But then I drank too much again. I don’t regret it. I had a great time. Dancing and singing our little hearts out to Jason Aldeen, Brooks n Dunn, and Toby Keith. I lost my voice, combined alcohol, flirted with boys, played an embarrasingly horrible game of beer pong before finally falling into a stupor when we got home at 2:30 in the morning.
But, oh, today.
Today I feel like death. I actually feel like a 90-year-old woman with a variety of health issues that involve failing organs and smoker’s lungs. My heart beats at an erratic pace, my stomach hates me, my head is fuzzy, I feel like I may start wheezing at any moment, and my body aches in a way that goes far beyond sore. I feel like I’ve been beaten. Severely.
I can’t imagine everyone who went to Stagecoach feels this way. Because they were all 21. And I’m not. My 26-year-old body doesn’t recover at the same pace nowadays. In horse terms, I’m at more of a trot than a full gallop.
But now, as I let my eyelids (that feel as though they weigh about 20 pounds each) slowly fall, I drift off to the twangy sounds of Coors Light, Wranglers, and patriotism bordering on insanity. Because that is the American way.
'Night, y'all.
UPDATE: My mom read this post and was sort of appalled by my mention of Sex on the Beach. I meant the alcoholic beverage. Hence it being capitalized. I didn't capitalize it cuz I find it an important thing to do in the middle of the desert where it doesn't make much since anyway, I capitalized it cuz it's a name. Of a drink. So, just to be clear, drink. Not lots of actual sex on some made up beach. Drink.
-Age
I went to Stagecoach which is a weekend-long country music festival. The first night I drank way too much. Lots of Sex on the Beach and stumbling. The second day was Hangover Day. We walked around to all the different camps, visiting different friends and family in the blistering heat. By the time we made it to our spot in front of the main stage (they called it the Mane Stage – you know, like a horses’ mane? Cute, huh?) I was feeling really unwell. But after the sun went down and my body temperature lowered to a reasonable level, I began to perk up and had a great time listening to Sugarland and Keith Urban. Sugarland was by far my favorite, they were amazing!
The third day was much better. I’d recovered mostly, hydrated often, and we didn’t do so much dang walking. But then I drank too much again. I don’t regret it. I had a great time. Dancing and singing our little hearts out to Jason Aldeen, Brooks n Dunn, and Toby Keith. I lost my voice, combined alcohol, flirted with boys, played an embarrasingly horrible game of beer pong before finally falling into a stupor when we got home at 2:30 in the morning.
But, oh, today.
Today I feel like death. I actually feel like a 90-year-old woman with a variety of health issues that involve failing organs and smoker’s lungs. My heart beats at an erratic pace, my stomach hates me, my head is fuzzy, I feel like I may start wheezing at any moment, and my body aches in a way that goes far beyond sore. I feel like I’ve been beaten. Severely.
I can’t imagine everyone who went to Stagecoach feels this way. Because they were all 21. And I’m not. My 26-year-old body doesn’t recover at the same pace nowadays. In horse terms, I’m at more of a trot than a full gallop.
But now, as I let my eyelids (that feel as though they weigh about 20 pounds each) slowly fall, I drift off to the twangy sounds of Coors Light, Wranglers, and patriotism bordering on insanity. Because that is the American way.
'Night, y'all.
UPDATE: My mom read this post and was sort of appalled by my mention of Sex on the Beach. I meant the alcoholic beverage. Hence it being capitalized. I didn't capitalize it cuz I find it an important thing to do in the middle of the desert where it doesn't make much since anyway, I capitalized it cuz it's a name. Of a drink. So, just to be clear, drink. Not lots of actual sex on some made up beach. Drink.
-Age
Friday, April 23, 2010
Peace Corps Thursday!
I’m going to copy a post idea for this edition of Peace Corps Thursday from my friend Alexa over at Peace, Love…and Bulgaria.
Things I’ll Miss:
Long, hot showers
Seeing my friends every day
The babies from my work
Getting pedi’s with my mom
Friday lunches with dad
Jeans (I’m very sad about this)
Flip flops
The Office
Complete independence
Being an articulate speaker of the native language
Ice-cold, filtered water
Baker’s burritos
Calvary Chapel Sunday Service
Boozing it up after a long week (Ironic, I know)
Things I won't miss:
The unrelenting desire to do something more impactful with my life
(This was such a good idea, Alexa!)
-Age
Things I’ll Miss:
Long, hot showers
Seeing my friends every day
The babies from my work
Getting pedi’s with my mom
Friday lunches with dad
Jeans (I’m very sad about this)
Flip flops
The Office
Complete independence
Being an articulate speaker of the native language
Ice-cold, filtered water
Baker’s burritos
Calvary Chapel Sunday Service
Boozing it up after a long week (Ironic, I know)
Things I won't miss:
The unrelenting desire to do something more impactful with my life
(This was such a good idea, Alexa!)
-Age
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Famous!
So, I might be famous.
I went to The Improv in Ontario last night. The place that’s always on Comedy Central where really funny people like Gabriel Iglesias, Brian Regan, and Ellen Degeneres crack us up with their comic genius.
The comics there that night were just OK (a little raunchy for my taste) BUT...they were filming that night. They had a camera man, sound guy, and lady-director with a ponytail and baseball cap and everything! However, they weren’t filming for Comedy Central, they were filming for the Discovery Channel.
What?
I know, but it’s true.
The host (some dude that used to be in a band but who no one cares about anymore) is a recovering sex addict (sober one year – if by sober they mean having sex with only one woman, his girlfriend, who was there and passing out sex toys. Yup.) The Discovery Channel is making a show about famous people recovering from addiction so they had a camera crew floating around shining bright lights in people’s faces.
You may be asking, how does this make you famous? That's coming, don't you worry.
A famous DJ in the area, Jimbo from K-Cal, was being celebrated that night for the money he's raising for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I was right behind him. Which means that every time the camera panned to him my face was right in the background!
Famous!
The thing is, when there’s a camera in your face, what exactly are you supposed to do? Smile at it? Wave? Ignore it and pretend it’s not there? I personally opted for the last one. I just smiled up at the stage and pretended that the camera wasn’t pointed in my direction. It was very awkward.
But then.
But then I turned around to make a “that joke was really funny” face to my friends and when I turned around the camera was literally inches from my face. Pointed right at me. I could have licked the camera man (I didn't). I've decided to take some pictures to show you what that was like. Enjoy.
This is the look on my face right when I turned around, before my brain had a chance to acknowledge the bright light in my eyes and fuzzy microphone under my chin:
This is what I looked like a split second later when my brain realized, “Oh crap! There’s a camera in my face!”
This is what my face looked like when I decided that the face I was making probably wasn’t very flattering and I should change it.
Again, very awkward. But, like I said,
FAMOUS!
-Age
I went to The Improv in Ontario last night. The place that’s always on Comedy Central where really funny people like Gabriel Iglesias, Brian Regan, and Ellen Degeneres crack us up with their comic genius.
The comics there that night were just OK (a little raunchy for my taste) BUT...they were filming that night. They had a camera man, sound guy, and lady-director with a ponytail and baseball cap and everything! However, they weren’t filming for Comedy Central, they were filming for the Discovery Channel.
What?
I know, but it’s true.
The host (some dude that used to be in a band but who no one cares about anymore) is a recovering sex addict (sober one year – if by sober they mean having sex with only one woman, his girlfriend, who was there and passing out sex toys. Yup.) The Discovery Channel is making a show about famous people recovering from addiction so they had a camera crew floating around shining bright lights in people’s faces.
You may be asking, how does this make you famous? That's coming, don't you worry.
A famous DJ in the area, Jimbo from K-Cal, was being celebrated that night for the money he's raising for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I was right behind him. Which means that every time the camera panned to him my face was right in the background!
Famous!
The thing is, when there’s a camera in your face, what exactly are you supposed to do? Smile at it? Wave? Ignore it and pretend it’s not there? I personally opted for the last one. I just smiled up at the stage and pretended that the camera wasn’t pointed in my direction. It was very awkward.
But then.
But then I turned around to make a “that joke was really funny” face to my friends and when I turned around the camera was literally inches from my face. Pointed right at me. I could have licked the camera man (I didn't). I've decided to take some pictures to show you what that was like. Enjoy.
This is the look on my face right when I turned around, before my brain had a chance to acknowledge the bright light in my eyes and fuzzy microphone under my chin:
This is what I looked like a split second later when my brain realized, “Oh crap! There’s a camera in my face!”
This is what my face looked like when I decided that the face I was making probably wasn’t very flattering and I should change it.
Again, very awkward. But, like I said,
FAMOUS!
-Age
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Peace Corps (Friday) Thursday!
So, I’ve been reading this book (when I can find the time) called “Bury Me Standing.” It’s about present day Gypsy culture with a little history thrown in to keep things fun. The Author, Isabel Fonseca, spent time with different Roma (Gypsy) groups in the early ‘90’s and wrote about her experiences. So far it’s been pretty interesting.
I have known for some months that I could possibly be working within the Roma population. Most people know that Gypsy’s are a nomadic people, separated by choice. They are very committed to their families and preserving their culture with as little influence from the outside world as possible. This alienation, coupled with a misunderstanding of their differences that has given them an often unfair reputation, has led to some pretty serious prejudice against the Roma population in many European countries.
But, of course, I’m American and, though we have some Gypsy’s here in the States (apparently), for the most part I have only seen them romanticized in movies like The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Chocolat.
In my mind they have:
Though I’m only 50 pages into “Bury Me Standing”, I’ve realized that my view of them is a bit skewed. What I do know is that even though I may work very closely within their population, I will never truly be accepted by them. It’s just their way.
Ultimately, I will be working with Bulgarians. They will be the one’s working in and running the school where I will be teaching. From my (limited) understanding, the Bulgarians are the one’s offering education to the minority Turkish and Gypsy groups. But, if I do teach and live near the Roma, I know that we will be spending quite a bit of time together and their culture is one I will want to become familiar with along with my Bulgarian counterparts. This seems a bit daunting but I’m ready for the challenge.
I suddenly have so much to do between now and when I leave including delving deeper into my knowledge of the Bulgarian language (which I’m kinda freaking out about!), but I definitely hope to finish this book. Even if I don’t end up working with Gypsy’s, it’s a fascinating culture and well worth learning more about.
I encourage you all to pick up a copy.
-Age
I have known for some months that I could possibly be working within the Roma population. Most people know that Gypsy’s are a nomadic people, separated by choice. They are very committed to their families and preserving their culture with as little influence from the outside world as possible. This alienation, coupled with a misunderstanding of their differences that has given them an often unfair reputation, has led to some pretty serious prejudice against the Roma population in many European countries.
But, of course, I’m American and, though we have some Gypsy’s here in the States (apparently), for the most part I have only seen them romanticized in movies like The Hunchback of Notre Dame and Chocolat.
In my mind they have:
pretty, dark features,
they are excellent dancers,
and they drive one of these:
Though I’m only 50 pages into “Bury Me Standing”, I’ve realized that my view of them is a bit skewed. What I do know is that even though I may work very closely within their population, I will never truly be accepted by them. It’s just their way.
Ultimately, I will be working with Bulgarians. They will be the one’s working in and running the school where I will be teaching. From my (limited) understanding, the Bulgarians are the one’s offering education to the minority Turkish and Gypsy groups. But, if I do teach and live near the Roma, I know that we will be spending quite a bit of time together and their culture is one I will want to become familiar with along with my Bulgarian counterparts. This seems a bit daunting but I’m ready for the challenge.
I suddenly have so much to do between now and when I leave including delving deeper into my knowledge of the Bulgarian language (which I’m kinda freaking out about!), but I definitely hope to finish this book. Even if I don’t end up working with Gypsy’s, it’s a fascinating culture and well worth learning more about.
I encourage you all to pick up a copy.
-Age
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Bridge To Nowhere
I’m sore from head to toe. Honestly, my head and toes are sore. I didn’t know that could happen. I went hiking yesterday, 9 miles round trip, over rocks, mountains, rivers, and cliffs in order to reach the infamous Bridge to Nowhere.
Apparently there are several well-know Bridges to Nowhere in the world. One pretty popular one is in Alaska. But the one I went to is right here in Southern Cali, in the mountains of Azusa to be more specific.
The story is: In 1936 the city was planning to build a road through these mountains to connect two bustling cities and, as all architects but no normal people know, bridges are built first. So the big curving bridge is smack-dab in the middle of this mountain range, curving straight into a cliff. It literally goes nowhere. The rest of the construction was supposedly washed away in a flood and the entire project was scrapped, leaving the only remaining piece of evidence that this highway even existed: The Bridge to Nowhere.
This bridge may seem like a lonely sight to you but actually it’s hardly ever alone. It has been a favorite destination for hikers for decades but what has made visits to it’s oddity even more frequent in the past few years is the addition of an extreme sport: Bungee jumping.
Yes, my friends, the only place you can legally bungee jump in all of California is off of this treacherous (it’s not really that treacherous, I just wanted to make it sound more dramatic) bridge. You may remember this from The Bachelor. You know, the one where Jake cried? Not specific enough for ya? Well, this was the one where he cried right before jumping off of a huge bridge over a raging river. Better? OK.
My friends and I decided this would make for a fun, leisurely day. We were half right. We definitely had fun but leisurely’s the wrong word. It was strenuous to say the least. My body is in complete rebellion right now, angry that I put it through such extreme conditions. For a girl who hasn’t seen the inside of a gym in over a month, I must have been crazy.
The young guys who work for the bungee company, the one’s that are out there every weekend, they straight book it to the bridge and back every time. They run…the entire way. When asked, they said it takes them 45 minutes to get there from the beginning of the trail. It took us 3 ½ hours. One of them ran past us with his shirt off. I’ve only seen muscles like that on professional soccer players. Scratch that. I’ve only seen muscles like that on David Beckham. I think I would’ve jumped on him but he was moving too fast and I was stuck in the middle of a river trying not to get swept away. (Some of you may think I wanted to jump on him for the free ride up the trail. Other’s because he was all musclely and sweaty and hot-stuff. You’re both right.)
Anyway, none of us bungee jumped cuz it’s not really our thing but it was fun to watch the dozens and dozens of other people jump and scream and cry a little. A twelve year old little boy jumped off three times. His name was Braxden and he was so sweet. He and his mother hiked all the way back with our group, telling us all about his vacation to California and how he loved the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland and how he can’t wait to go to Sea World and Universal Studios. I love kids.
We had to cross the river 14 times total. The path kept jumping from one side to the other as cliffs would impede our passage. We tried to cheat and just scale some of the cliffs. It never ended well. My friend, Kayla, was stuck on the side of a cliff afraid to move for quite some time until a friendly hiker came by and talked her down. Perilous I tell you, perilous. It also didn't help that the day before her boyfriend had her do 90 squats at the gym and her legs felt like jello for the entire hike. Poor Kayla.
All in all it was a really fun trip even though my muscles are screaming profanities at me right now for even typing that. Here’s some pictures. If you visit Cali and you like extreme and unique activities, I can’t imagine anything more perfect.
-Age
Apparently there are several well-know Bridges to Nowhere in the world. One pretty popular one is in Alaska. But the one I went to is right here in Southern Cali, in the mountains of Azusa to be more specific.
The story is: In 1936 the city was planning to build a road through these mountains to connect two bustling cities and, as all architects but no normal people know, bridges are built first. So the big curving bridge is smack-dab in the middle of this mountain range, curving straight into a cliff. It literally goes nowhere. The rest of the construction was supposedly washed away in a flood and the entire project was scrapped, leaving the only remaining piece of evidence that this highway even existed: The Bridge to Nowhere.
This bridge may seem like a lonely sight to you but actually it’s hardly ever alone. It has been a favorite destination for hikers for decades but what has made visits to it’s oddity even more frequent in the past few years is the addition of an extreme sport: Bungee jumping.
Yes, my friends, the only place you can legally bungee jump in all of California is off of this treacherous (it’s not really that treacherous, I just wanted to make it sound more dramatic) bridge. You may remember this from The Bachelor. You know, the one where Jake cried? Not specific enough for ya? Well, this was the one where he cried right before jumping off of a huge bridge over a raging river. Better? OK.
My friends and I decided this would make for a fun, leisurely day. We were half right. We definitely had fun but leisurely’s the wrong word. It was strenuous to say the least. My body is in complete rebellion right now, angry that I put it through such extreme conditions. For a girl who hasn’t seen the inside of a gym in over a month, I must have been crazy.
The young guys who work for the bungee company, the one’s that are out there every weekend, they straight book it to the bridge and back every time. They run…the entire way. When asked, they said it takes them 45 minutes to get there from the beginning of the trail. It took us 3 ½ hours. One of them ran past us with his shirt off. I’ve only seen muscles like that on professional soccer players. Scratch that. I’ve only seen muscles like that on David Beckham. I think I would’ve jumped on him but he was moving too fast and I was stuck in the middle of a river trying not to get swept away. (Some of you may think I wanted to jump on him for the free ride up the trail. Other’s because he was all musclely and sweaty and hot-stuff. You’re both right.)
Anyway, none of us bungee jumped cuz it’s not really our thing but it was fun to watch the dozens and dozens of other people jump and scream and cry a little. A twelve year old little boy jumped off three times. His name was Braxden and he was so sweet. He and his mother hiked all the way back with our group, telling us all about his vacation to California and how he loved the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland and how he can’t wait to go to Sea World and Universal Studios. I love kids.
We had to cross the river 14 times total. The path kept jumping from one side to the other as cliffs would impede our passage. We tried to cheat and just scale some of the cliffs. It never ended well. My friend, Kayla, was stuck on the side of a cliff afraid to move for quite some time until a friendly hiker came by and talked her down. Perilous I tell you, perilous. It also didn't help that the day before her boyfriend had her do 90 squats at the gym and her legs felt like jello for the entire hike. Poor Kayla.
All in all it was a really fun trip even though my muscles are screaming profanities at me right now for even typing that. Here’s some pictures. If you visit Cali and you like extreme and unique activities, I can’t imagine anything more perfect.
So, it seems like Cat and I are the only one's hiking. Truth is, my other friends were super slow...and they know it.
That's a bungee jumper screamin his head off
I'm only slightly embarrased that my hand is actually in the m&m bag while this picture is being taken. Thanks for pointing that out, Colleen.
-Age
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Peace Corps Thursday!
So it’s Peace Corps Thursday. Oh, wait. Nope. It’s Friday. Sorry ‘bout that. Too busy yesterday. Too busy today too but I really wanted to share the exciting news!
First, through this blog I have met three girls: Kate, Alexa, and Alexandria that are also going to Bulgaria with the Peace Corps on May 10! That means we will probably meet during orientation and train together for those first three months in Bulgaria. I’m excited to already know some people!
Secondly, I received my staging information. All this time I was so sure that my orientation would be in Washington DC. Turns out I’m going to Philly. Can’t tell you how excited I am about that. We all know It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
I’ll be there for two days to be oriented and turn in all my paperwork. From there we will drive over 2 hours to fly out of JFK. Weird, I know. But I’m kinda looking forward to the drive. I’ll get to see a lot of America before I leave it for two years.
Then it’s hours and hours and hours of flying and poor sleep with a quick stop in Munich before I finally arrive in Bulgaria!
So, this is really happening. I think it’s a good sign that while I was reading the email I was also grinning from ear to ear.
The more I read about the Peace Corps and about current and past volunteers the more intimidated I become. But I also look forward to the challenge. I want to make the same kinds of long-lasting impacts that other volunteers are making. I want to push myself farther than I’ve ever been pushed before. I wanna sweat and cry and scream and come out of this knowing I gave it my all and I really made an impression on the world. No matter how small.
I can’t wait.
-Age
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
And Bicylces
Today I was in the three-year-old room while they were napping. I was reading a book when a few of the kids started to wake up.
They opened their little eyes, saw that someone new was in the room and, of course, decided to fill me in on all I had been missing in their lives…all at once.
I was bombarded by information. In high-pitched squeals I was being told all of the exciting events that these little one’s had been through lately and I began to feel a little overwhelmed.
I said, “WHOA! OK. Let me get this straight. Ella’s gonna grow up to be like her big sister, Mia; Cooper got a dinosaur book; Kayla loves to read books; Kylee has new shoes, and Alex needs a new blanket.”
“And bicycles!”
“Yes, of course, and bicycles.”
I love kids.
-Age
They opened their little eyes, saw that someone new was in the room and, of course, decided to fill me in on all I had been missing in their lives…all at once.
I was bombarded by information. In high-pitched squeals I was being told all of the exciting events that these little one’s had been through lately and I began to feel a little overwhelmed.
I said, “WHOA! OK. Let me get this straight. Ella’s gonna grow up to be like her big sister, Mia; Cooper got a dinosaur book; Kayla loves to read books; Kylee has new shoes, and Alex needs a new blanket.”
“And bicycles!”
“Yes, of course, and bicycles.”
I love kids.
-Age
Monday, April 5, 2010
Never Entrust Your Dreams to a Knight in Yellow
Remember Medieval Times? (The Dinner Theater place not the actual time period with knights and round tables) Remember?
For those of you who don’t live in Southern California and therefore have no idea what I’m talking about, let me give you a little head’s up: You spend a ridiculous amount of money to sit in the stands surrounding a large arena; eat a “medieval” feast which is really just chicken, bread, and soup; and watch multi-colored “medieval” knights joust and ride horses and do other knightly things. Then there is a ceremony for the winner and he gets some sorta awesome gift from the King and Queen and everyone says, “Yeeeaaaahhh!!!” and goes home.
Well, when I was little I went to medieval times. I remember it very vividly. I was probably six or so and I wore a white dress with colorful balloons on it. I remember feeling quite pretty in that dress. Which is why I was sure that I would receive the rose.
The Rose.
The rose was given by the winning knight to a girl in the audience of his choosing.
You see, when you first walk in the “castle” you are given a crown. This crown is a specific color. It not only tells you which area you should be sitting in, it tells you which knight you are rooting for which is lame cuz I think I should be able to choose my own knight. That’s how they did it in Medieval Times (the time period, not the dinner theater place).
But I didn’t care. The lady handed me that yellow paper crown and I was eternally his. Even though he was at least forty and had a mustache that made me think he probably wasn’t allowed too close to young children. None of that mattered. He was my knight, he was yellow, and I was gonna get that rose. How could he resist a freckled six-year-old in a balloon dress?
I ate my chicken, chugged my Sprite (who knew Sprite’s been around for so long?), and watched in rapture as the knights took to the arena.
They rode horses. They jousted. They raced past each other with those long stick things and tried to knock each other over like in that one Heath Ledger movie where he’s a knight and there’s lots of rock ‘n roll music - which is a little confusing in the same way that the Sprite in my wooden mug made me tilt my head and say, “Huh, who knew?”
Anyway, it was time for the battle scene when the knights really get down and dirty and fight each other with swords. There are knights everywhere. Purple. Blue. Green. Black. Red. And, of course, yellow. They were wielding their swords like nobody’s business.
*Ching*
*Whoosh*
*Stab*
It was all so very exciting and my little eyes were open wide and glued to the action. I watched Yellow Guy fight Red Guy in an epic battle. They swung left, the swung right, they jabbed, they dodged, they stabbed…STABBED?!
Red Guy stabbed Yellow Guy!
Stabbed him right in the chest.
He grabbed at his chest, threw his head back in agony, and collapsed to the ground.
Dead.
I didn’t even feel bad for him. While everyone else was cringing and saying, “No, Yellow Guy, no!” I was just sitting there, still and seething. Arms crossed over my chest. Eyebrows furrowed. Stupid Yellow Guy couldn’t even make it to the second round before getting stabbed? Loser.
This mustache-faced man held my dream of receiving the winning rose in the palm of his hand and he just died.
I was disappointed and furious. I didn’t give a thought to his family. I didn’t care if he had little Lancelots at home. Mr. and Mrs. Yellow could cry a river for their fallen son, wouldn’t have made a difference to me. I didn’t even care what was going to happen to his horse now that he was gone. As he was carried out by little Squire guys, my thoughts were centered around what I’d lost. I took off my crown and threw it on the Sprite-soaked floor. I never liked yellow anyway.
The Blue Guy ended up winning the whole thing and giving the rose to some chick in the front row. A girl with a red dress and a big bow in her hair. I remember assuming she had really bad foot odor and liked to rip the heads off her barbies and then go “AH ha ha ha!” with her head thrown back and then lightening would crash. She didn’t deserve that rose. Not with the collection of Barbie heads under her bed right next to the Odor Eaters.
Suffice to say, I wouldn’t have done well in Medieval Times (the time period, not the dinner theater place). Too much drama and not enough balloon dresses.
-Age
For those of you who don’t live in Southern California and therefore have no idea what I’m talking about, let me give you a little head’s up: You spend a ridiculous amount of money to sit in the stands surrounding a large arena; eat a “medieval” feast which is really just chicken, bread, and soup; and watch multi-colored “medieval” knights joust and ride horses and do other knightly things. Then there is a ceremony for the winner and he gets some sorta awesome gift from the King and Queen and everyone says, “Yeeeaaaahhh!!!” and goes home.
Well, when I was little I went to medieval times. I remember it very vividly. I was probably six or so and I wore a white dress with colorful balloons on it. I remember feeling quite pretty in that dress. Which is why I was sure that I would receive the rose.
The Rose.
The rose was given by the winning knight to a girl in the audience of his choosing.
You see, when you first walk in the “castle” you are given a crown. This crown is a specific color. It not only tells you which area you should be sitting in, it tells you which knight you are rooting for which is lame cuz I think I should be able to choose my own knight. That’s how they did it in Medieval Times (the time period, not the dinner theater place).
But I didn’t care. The lady handed me that yellow paper crown and I was eternally his. Even though he was at least forty and had a mustache that made me think he probably wasn’t allowed too close to young children. None of that mattered. He was my knight, he was yellow, and I was gonna get that rose. How could he resist a freckled six-year-old in a balloon dress?
I ate my chicken, chugged my Sprite (who knew Sprite’s been around for so long?), and watched in rapture as the knights took to the arena.
They rode horses. They jousted. They raced past each other with those long stick things and tried to knock each other over like in that one Heath Ledger movie where he’s a knight and there’s lots of rock ‘n roll music - which is a little confusing in the same way that the Sprite in my wooden mug made me tilt my head and say, “Huh, who knew?”
He. Will. Rock. You.
Anyway, it was time for the battle scene when the knights really get down and dirty and fight each other with swords. There are knights everywhere. Purple. Blue. Green. Black. Red. And, of course, yellow. They were wielding their swords like nobody’s business.
*Ching*
*Whoosh*
*Stab*
It was all so very exciting and my little eyes were open wide and glued to the action. I watched Yellow Guy fight Red Guy in an epic battle. They swung left, the swung right, they jabbed, they dodged, they stabbed…STABBED?!
Red Guy stabbed Yellow Guy!
Stabbed him right in the chest.
He grabbed at his chest, threw his head back in agony, and collapsed to the ground.
Dead.
I didn’t even feel bad for him. While everyone else was cringing and saying, “No, Yellow Guy, no!” I was just sitting there, still and seething. Arms crossed over my chest. Eyebrows furrowed. Stupid Yellow Guy couldn’t even make it to the second round before getting stabbed? Loser.
This mustache-faced man held my dream of receiving the winning rose in the palm of his hand and he just died.
I was disappointed and furious. I didn’t give a thought to his family. I didn’t care if he had little Lancelots at home. Mr. and Mrs. Yellow could cry a river for their fallen son, wouldn’t have made a difference to me. I didn’t even care what was going to happen to his horse now that he was gone. As he was carried out by little Squire guys, my thoughts were centered around what I’d lost. I took off my crown and threw it on the Sprite-soaked floor. I never liked yellow anyway.
The Blue Guy ended up winning the whole thing and giving the rose to some chick in the front row. A girl with a red dress and a big bow in her hair. I remember assuming she had really bad foot odor and liked to rip the heads off her barbies and then go “AH ha ha ha!” with her head thrown back and then lightening would crash. She didn’t deserve that rose. Not with the collection of Barbie heads under her bed right next to the Odor Eaters.
Suffice to say, I wouldn’t have done well in Medieval Times (the time period, not the dinner theater place). Too much drama and not enough balloon dresses.
Me, my balloon dress, and the Queen
-Age
Friday, April 2, 2010
Peace Corps Thursday
I graduated with my Teaching Credential a couple years ago. Actually, it’s coming up on two years this June that I have been with a Credential but without a job that actually requires one. While I was student teaching, the state was just beginning to make their budget cuts to education and many of the teacher’s I was working with were stressing out over the threat of pink slips. I had a feeling that finding a cushy job as a second-grade teacher was gonna be a little more difficult than I had originally thought.
Since then, I have been working hard just to make ends meet. I often have two jobs and for a little while there I actually had three which, needless to say, was a little much. I’m not complaining, I know that most people my age are going through something similar. We had these dreams of being wealthy World-Changers by 26 but instead we are hoping our rent check clears. It’s just life. Stories we’ll tell are grandchildren to impress them with our past work-ethic and ingenuity.
This is what drove me to explore other employment options. The Peace Corps was one of many ideas I had back in November but it was the one I felt God was pushing me toward and who am I to say, “Uh, God, are you sure about this?” Of course He’s sure. He’s God. He made the heavens and the earth and narwhals.
Anyway, I thought I’d share with y’all what I’ll be doing in Bulgaria.
I’m going to be teaching English to elementary/middle school students. I’ll also be training teachers at the school different techniques regarding English as a Second Language instruction. Also, most Peace Corps volunteers have a second job or project. I will only be able to work at the school 18 hours a week so I will have down time to work on other things.
Some of the other projects mentioned in my packet involved working with youth in terms of sex-trafficking prevention. I am VERY interested in these types of projects. The rights and education of women has always been very important to me, I may have even been called a feminist once or twice (or 217 times) After reading Half the Sky and learning of the terrible things that can happen to girls all over the world, I hope to educate and inspire the young girls in Bulgaria to have higher expectations for their lives.
But before I can do any of this, I have to go through training. I will spend three months living with a host family in a larger city in Bulgaria, possibly Sofia, learning how to speak Bulgarian and receive TEFEL training that will help to sharpen my teaching skills. They also show us how to apply for grants to receive funding for those secondary projects. I will train with a group of Peace Corps volunteers and will hopefully make friends in the process. Unless they think I’m a weirdo. Or maybe they are all weirdoes too.
The three groups I could potentially be working with are: Bulgarians, Roma (gypsies), or Turkish immigrants. Of course, I am fascinated by the possibility of working with gypsies and have been learning a lot about them since, before this, I didn’t know they still existed as a race of people. Their history is so shrouded in mystery and intrigue. I hope I’m able to meet some Roma people even if I don’t work with them directly.
I will also have to come up with summer projects while the kids are out of school. I’m thinking maybe a sports-based or arts-based camp but I really don’t know for sure. So much is still up in the air.
Basically, my work will be focused on the youth; building their knowledge base and self-esteem so that they can go on and become successful in the new free-market economy that Bulgaria is struggling to promote. I will work tirelessly and it will be full of struggles and hardship but I am going to learn so much and grow as a person in ways I can’t even begin to predict.
Very excited!
But not as excited as this guy:
-Age
Since then, I have been working hard just to make ends meet. I often have two jobs and for a little while there I actually had three which, needless to say, was a little much. I’m not complaining, I know that most people my age are going through something similar. We had these dreams of being wealthy World-Changers by 26 but instead we are hoping our rent check clears. It’s just life. Stories we’ll tell are grandchildren to impress them with our past work-ethic and ingenuity.
This is what drove me to explore other employment options. The Peace Corps was one of many ideas I had back in November but it was the one I felt God was pushing me toward and who am I to say, “Uh, God, are you sure about this?” Of course He’s sure. He’s God. He made the heavens and the earth and narwhals.
Anyway, I thought I’d share with y’all what I’ll be doing in Bulgaria.
I’m going to be teaching English to elementary/middle school students. I’ll also be training teachers at the school different techniques regarding English as a Second Language instruction. Also, most Peace Corps volunteers have a second job or project. I will only be able to work at the school 18 hours a week so I will have down time to work on other things.
Some of the other projects mentioned in my packet involved working with youth in terms of sex-trafficking prevention. I am VERY interested in these types of projects. The rights and education of women has always been very important to me, I may have even been called a feminist once or twice (or 217 times) After reading Half the Sky and learning of the terrible things that can happen to girls all over the world, I hope to educate and inspire the young girls in Bulgaria to have higher expectations for their lives.
But before I can do any of this, I have to go through training. I will spend three months living with a host family in a larger city in Bulgaria, possibly Sofia, learning how to speak Bulgarian and receive TEFEL training that will help to sharpen my teaching skills. They also show us how to apply for grants to receive funding for those secondary projects. I will train with a group of Peace Corps volunteers and will hopefully make friends in the process. Unless they think I’m a weirdo. Or maybe they are all weirdoes too.
The three groups I could potentially be working with are: Bulgarians, Roma (gypsies), or Turkish immigrants. Of course, I am fascinated by the possibility of working with gypsies and have been learning a lot about them since, before this, I didn’t know they still existed as a race of people. Their history is so shrouded in mystery and intrigue. I hope I’m able to meet some Roma people even if I don’t work with them directly.
I will also have to come up with summer projects while the kids are out of school. I’m thinking maybe a sports-based or arts-based camp but I really don’t know for sure. So much is still up in the air.
Basically, my work will be focused on the youth; building their knowledge base and self-esteem so that they can go on and become successful in the new free-market economy that Bulgaria is struggling to promote. I will work tirelessly and it will be full of struggles and hardship but I am going to learn so much and grow as a person in ways I can’t even begin to predict.
Very excited!
But not as excited as this guy:
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Making This Big World Smaller...Or the Other Way Around
So this new “The World is My Oyster” map thing I’ve recently added to the top of my page is pretty cool. I just noticed that someone from Bulgaria visited. That makes me a little nervous actually. The first thing I did was read over my last several posts to see if I wrote anything potentially offensive. I would never do anything like that on purpose but being a “foot in mouth” kinda girl, I figured I should check.
I think I’m OK. Hopefully.
It’s pretty amazing how technology can link people from all over the world. And so quickly. I can read about a girl’s educational struggles in Pakistan one moment and the next be reading a hysterical comic strip about fish.
This not only opens our world to different people and different cultures, it allows us to open ourselves up to a very broad range of interests. I can enjoy satirical blogs full of dry humor and wit, I can learn more about life in Africa, I can see pictures of vacations taken all over Northern Europe, and I can learn about other Peace Corps volunteers and how their lives are changing.
I’m able to cater to every different aspect of my personality and life with just a few clicks of the mouse. No matter my mood, no matter the time of day, no matter the topic, it’s all there. At our fingertips.
The world is a big place and we have so short a time to experience and enjoy it.
I can’t wait to really get started.
-Age
I think I’m OK. Hopefully.
It’s pretty amazing how technology can link people from all over the world. And so quickly. I can read about a girl’s educational struggles in Pakistan one moment and the next be reading a hysterical comic strip about fish.
This not only opens our world to different people and different cultures, it allows us to open ourselves up to a very broad range of interests. I can enjoy satirical blogs full of dry humor and wit, I can learn more about life in Africa, I can see pictures of vacations taken all over Northern Europe, and I can learn about other Peace Corps volunteers and how their lives are changing.
I’m able to cater to every different aspect of my personality and life with just a few clicks of the mouse. No matter my mood, no matter the time of day, no matter the topic, it’s all there. At our fingertips.
The world is a big place and we have so short a time to experience and enjoy it.
I can’t wait to really get started.
-Age
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