My nine year old sister taught me how to play piano tonight. I never knew my scales, or how to read music, or what the different notes stood for.
...All I am saying is, you never know what you can learn from little kids or elderly people. Just keep your eyes open so not a single opportunity passes you by!
:)
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Monday, May 25, 2009
¡feliz cumpleaños!
I sat contentedly in my fold-out chair, as the waves from jet skis and party boats splayed across the river. Their ripples caused my siblings and cousins to laugh, most of which were playing in the water near the dock. I spent my Memorial Day stationed at the River Lot, mostly watching, sometimes conversing, but mostly watching. I took in the sounds of kids' laughter, the muffled conversation of relatives and strangers, the roar of waverunners zooming across perfectly blue water. I ate sausages and hamburgers and potato salad, and maybe more than one brownie. I exhausted my arm muscles by canoeing upstream with my step-dad. It was a pleasant day.
Those activities may entangle each other, but of all the family and strangers that I encountered today, one keeps me smiling, long after the day is over.
He must have been in his late fifties, early sixties, and was one of the more boisterous guests that attended the get-together. He was a retired high school teacher (taught history and honors english), and had no problem playing whiffle ball with the kids, learning how to do back-flips off the dock, and thrashing his arms around with vigor as he explained something to Lacey or Gavin. His face was bright red, half sunburned, but probably permanent, and he sported a bit of belly that certainly favored alcohol. He had large blue eyes and somehow reminded me of a Lit. professor I had during my freshman year of college.
In all reality, I am deterred from boisterous, loud people. I am not one for obnoxious parties or booming conversation, but the words that came out of this man's mouth seemed wise, or at least well-rehearsed. Something about him made me want to listen, loudness and all.
He told tasteless jokes about Michael Jackson, and blantantly stated that he was excited for my family to be at the Lot today because the others were getting tired of hearing the same old jokes and stories. We were "new blood". As the afternoon wore on, I sat by myself by the dirt mound my brother had been excitedly sliding down for the past three hours, and looked out at the mountains. This man shuffles on over, a beer in his hand, and takes a seat next to me.
"A view like this makes me want to write the next Great American Novel." He blurts out, then takes a sip.
I smile and knowingly nod my head. "I know exactly what you mean."
We sat in silence for a bit, and then he went on to ask me about this Semester at Sea I would be participating in in just a few short weeks. My uncle had mentioned my trip in earlier conversation, and he had decided to bring it back up. I enlightened him on some details and he listened, his blue eyes bulging with unspoken words.
And then I dared to ask him a question that I wouldn't have normally have asked so blantantly to anyone else. "Have you ever been out of the country?"
He smiled and moved his eyes toward the sky. " Well. I wasn't born in this country. My name is ((Some Irish name that is completely stereotyped)) Moved to the US as a baby. I haven't been to China or India. But I've been all over Europe. It's like my second home."
This comment naturally piqued my interest. I would have never guessed this man had ever traveled a day outside of the midwest. Shows how much the surface picture provides.
"When I was younger, I took three months and biked and drank my way around most of Europe. I'll tell you what. The most beautiful place I've seen is Brussels, Belgium. Have you ever been there?" He asked this question in all sincerity.
I told him no, but that I was going to be in Bulgaria this summer. They kind of sounded similar. He told me to go, if I ever got the chance, to Brussels, Belgium. I told him I would be celebrating my 20th birthday in Spain this summer, and he smiled. You won't forget it, he said.
As we were getting ready to pack up and leave after a wonderfully interesting afternoon, the man tapped me on the shoulder. He grinned, and swigged back another gulp of a different beer. "When's your 20th birthday?"
"June 24th."
"I tell you what. I'm incredibly envious of you. But I will toast your birthday. When is it again?"
"June 24th."
"A toast! I will toast your 20th birthday in spanish on June 23rd at midnight! You can count on that!"
I did not know this man before today, and who is to say if I'll see him again before I leave or ever. But I have the feeling that even if he is an Irish alcoholic, he won't forget. He will proudly hold that glass of wine, or can of beer, and nod his head in spanish birthday wishes to a girl who will be across the world, his old stomping grounds, and celebrating that unforgettable 20th birthday in Spain. Some people are inspiring because they are familiar. Others are unforgettable because they are so different from us, and something about them sticks with us, where ever we decide to go, or whatever we decide to celebrate.
Those activities may entangle each other, but of all the family and strangers that I encountered today, one keeps me smiling, long after the day is over.
He must have been in his late fifties, early sixties, and was one of the more boisterous guests that attended the get-together. He was a retired high school teacher (taught history and honors english), and had no problem playing whiffle ball with the kids, learning how to do back-flips off the dock, and thrashing his arms around with vigor as he explained something to Lacey or Gavin. His face was bright red, half sunburned, but probably permanent, and he sported a bit of belly that certainly favored alcohol. He had large blue eyes and somehow reminded me of a Lit. professor I had during my freshman year of college.
In all reality, I am deterred from boisterous, loud people. I am not one for obnoxious parties or booming conversation, but the words that came out of this man's mouth seemed wise, or at least well-rehearsed. Something about him made me want to listen, loudness and all.
He told tasteless jokes about Michael Jackson, and blantantly stated that he was excited for my family to be at the Lot today because the others were getting tired of hearing the same old jokes and stories. We were "new blood". As the afternoon wore on, I sat by myself by the dirt mound my brother had been excitedly sliding down for the past three hours, and looked out at the mountains. This man shuffles on over, a beer in his hand, and takes a seat next to me.
"A view like this makes me want to write the next Great American Novel." He blurts out, then takes a sip.
I smile and knowingly nod my head. "I know exactly what you mean."
We sat in silence for a bit, and then he went on to ask me about this Semester at Sea I would be participating in in just a few short weeks. My uncle had mentioned my trip in earlier conversation, and he had decided to bring it back up. I enlightened him on some details and he listened, his blue eyes bulging with unspoken words.
And then I dared to ask him a question that I wouldn't have normally have asked so blantantly to anyone else. "Have you ever been out of the country?"
He smiled and moved his eyes toward the sky. " Well. I wasn't born in this country. My name is ((Some Irish name that is completely stereotyped)) Moved to the US as a baby. I haven't been to China or India. But I've been all over Europe. It's like my second home."
This comment naturally piqued my interest. I would have never guessed this man had ever traveled a day outside of the midwest. Shows how much the surface picture provides.
"When I was younger, I took three months and biked and drank my way around most of Europe. I'll tell you what. The most beautiful place I've seen is Brussels, Belgium. Have you ever been there?" He asked this question in all sincerity.
I told him no, but that I was going to be in Bulgaria this summer. They kind of sounded similar. He told me to go, if I ever got the chance, to Brussels, Belgium. I told him I would be celebrating my 20th birthday in Spain this summer, and he smiled. You won't forget it, he said.
As we were getting ready to pack up and leave after a wonderfully interesting afternoon, the man tapped me on the shoulder. He grinned, and swigged back another gulp of a different beer. "When's your 20th birthday?"
"June 24th."
"I tell you what. I'm incredibly envious of you. But I will toast your birthday. When is it again?"
"June 24th."
"A toast! I will toast your 20th birthday in spanish on June 23rd at midnight! You can count on that!"
I did not know this man before today, and who is to say if I'll see him again before I leave or ever. But I have the feeling that even if he is an Irish alcoholic, he won't forget. He will proudly hold that glass of wine, or can of beer, and nod his head in spanish birthday wishes to a girl who will be across the world, his old stomping grounds, and celebrating that unforgettable 20th birthday in Spain. Some people are inspiring because they are familiar. Others are unforgettable because they are so different from us, and something about them sticks with us, where ever we decide to go, or whatever we decide to celebrate.
Workshop Readin'
ENWR 220Z - Forms of Nonfiction Writing (0800-0915AM)
ENWR 301Z - Imagining Place through Lit. and Travel (1045-1200PM)
SEMS 101 - Global Studies (0920-1035AM)
...These are the classes I am signed up to take while at sea. Two, hopefully amazing, nonfiction writing workshops, and a required history course which shouldn't be too rough.
Required Texts for all three courses includes the following:
Snow - Orhan Pamuk
The Sun also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
The Stranger - Albert Camus
Gomorrah - Roberto Saviano
The Art of Truth - Bill Roorbach
The Mediterranean in History - David Abulafia
Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny - Amartya Sen
Sweet.
ENWR 301Z - Imagining Place through Lit. and Travel (1045-1200PM)
SEMS 101 - Global Studies (0920-1035AM)
...These are the classes I am signed up to take while at sea. Two, hopefully amazing, nonfiction writing workshops, and a required history course which shouldn't be too rough.
Required Texts for all three courses includes the following:
Snow - Orhan Pamuk
The Sun also Rises - Ernest Hemingway
The Stranger - Albert Camus
Gomorrah - Roberto Saviano
The Art of Truth - Bill Roorbach
The Mediterranean in History - David Abulafia
Identity and Violence: The Illusion of Destiny - Amartya Sen
Sweet.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
100 List <3
Although I have my list written down (on pretty rainbow paper!), I feel the need to convert the list into typing again. I just looked it over for the first time in a while, and I realized that I have the opportunity to accomplish many of my dreams this summer, putting a nice squiggle line through what I've done. With these upcoming opportunities, I will cross them off my list as I go!
So, here goes.
100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die (Not revised, just typed again) As of 1 Year Ago
Dreams in bold are already accomplished.
1. Write a best-selling novel.
2. Travel to and sight see through all 50 states.
3. Buy a homeless person lunch.
4. Tell a complete stranger about Jesus.
5. Go skinny-dipping.
6. Get over my fear of spiders.
7. Go inside the Egyptian Pyramids.
8. Work in a soup kitchen.
9. Hike and camp along the Appalacian Trail.
10. Go bungee jumping.
11. Visit the ice caves in Austria.
12. Go on an Alaskan Cruise with Mama.
13. Meet Jodi Picoult in person.
14. Hike down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon (halfway conquered).
15. Build my home in the Maine mountains.
16. Do a book signing.
17. Stay at a bed and breakfast.
18. Give my money to a good charity every week.
19. Swim with the dolphins.
20. Go to Norway and see the trolls and viking ships.
21. Buy a black Mazda Miada (or a sexy sports car).
22. Have a "girls day out" at a spa retreat.
23. Get married in my Prom dress.
24. Learn to play the piano.
25. Visit Ireland.
26. Learn to surf.
27. Gamble in Las Vegas.
28. Read all of the books in the Bible, with comprehension.
29. Learn how to meditate.
30. Set up my own tent in the woods and camp with friends.
31. Sing karoke in a karoke bar.
32. Name a star.
33. Sponser a World-Vision child.
34. Eat frog legs and Escargot in France.
35. Ride a horse along the beach.
36. Go to Alaska and ride on a dog sled.
37. Drive along Route 66 (halfway conquered).
38. Watch a tennis match at Wimbledon.
39. Become an established magazine columnist.
40. Eventually raise $5,000 for March of Dimes.
41. Ride the Dragster at Cedar Point.
42. Kiss in the rain.
43. Send a message in a bottle.
44. Learn sign-language.
45. Learn to do a hand stand.
46. Vote for President in a major election.
47. Stand up for something I believe in.
48. Cook an elegant meal, by myself.
49. Have one of my photographs printed in National Geographic.
50. Take an aimless roadtrip out of state with friends.
51. Go fly-fishing.
52. Ride in a helicopter.
53. Take a mud-bath.
54. Fall asleep on a blanket under the stars.
55. Shoot a gun.
56. Dedicate a song to someone on the radio.
57. Visit Greece.
58. Take a carriage ride through Central Park on a snowy night.
59. Sing in a Gospel choir.
60. Buy a famous painting.
61. Visit the Greek Isles.
62. Ride a mechanical bull.
63. Fly in a private jet.
64. Watch the Northern Lights.
65. Start my own campfire.
66. Ride the Orient Express.
67. Have a short story published in a magazine.
68. Go on a missions trip.
69. Slow dance in the middle of an empty street, at night.
70. Graduate college with a major and minor.
71. See all of the Cirque du Soleil shows live.
72. Sleep in the cabin of someone's boat.
73. Learn to ride a motorcycle.
74. Fly first class.
75. See the Great Barrier Reef.
76. Sit on a jury.
77. Get married.
78. Read all of Shakespeare's plays.
79. Read Chopin's "The Awakening", and Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina".
80. Write a passionate love letter to my husband.
81. Buy a summer home.
82. Sleep naked.
83. Drive my own hand-car on a railroad.
84. Watch the ball drop from Times Square.
85. See the Great Wall of China.
86. Eat a meal by candelight.
87. See a broadway play in NYC.
88. Fall asleep in a field of wild flowers.
89. Finish an Ayn Rand novel.
90. Get my picture on a Jones Soda bottle.
91. Save my "I love you" for the person I'll marry.
92. Have a living will.
93. Start a conversation with a complete stranger on an elevator.
94. Visit Capri, Italy.
95. Visit Alentejo, Portugal (Marvao Castle).
96. Become a regular somewhere.
97. Visit all of the National Parks.
98.
99.
100.
They are not in order, and there is not one day that goes by in which I don't think about one of these dreams on my list. I'm slowly, but surely, marking them off...and hopefully one day, I can look back at my life and nod with happiness. I may not accomplish them all, or even half of them, but to dream is to live. Without dreams, goals, desires, what is left to live for?
So, here goes.
100 Things I Want To Do Before I Die (Not revised, just typed again) As of 1 Year Ago
Dreams in bold are already accomplished.
1. Write a best-selling novel.
2. Travel to and sight see through all 50 states.
3. Buy a homeless person lunch.
4. Tell a complete stranger about Jesus.
5. Go skinny-dipping.
6. Get over my fear of spiders.
7. Go inside the Egyptian Pyramids.
8. Work in a soup kitchen.
9. Hike and camp along the Appalacian Trail.
10. Go bungee jumping.
11. Visit the ice caves in Austria.
12. Go on an Alaskan Cruise with Mama.
13. Meet Jodi Picoult in person.
14. Hike down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon (halfway conquered).
15. Build my home in the Maine mountains.
16. Do a book signing.
17. Stay at a bed and breakfast.
18. Give my money to a good charity every week.
19. Swim with the dolphins.
20. Go to Norway and see the trolls and viking ships.
21. Buy a black Mazda Miada (or a sexy sports car).
22. Have a "girls day out" at a spa retreat.
23. Get married in my Prom dress.
24. Learn to play the piano.
25. Visit Ireland.
26. Learn to surf.
27. Gamble in Las Vegas.
28. Read all of the books in the Bible, with comprehension.
29. Learn how to meditate.
30. Set up my own tent in the woods and camp with friends.
31. Sing karoke in a karoke bar.
32. Name a star.
33. Sponser a World-Vision child.
34. Eat frog legs and Escargot in France.
35. Ride a horse along the beach.
36. Go to Alaska and ride on a dog sled.
37. Drive along Route 66 (halfway conquered).
38. Watch a tennis match at Wimbledon.
39. Become an established magazine columnist.
40. Eventually raise $5,000 for March of Dimes.
41. Ride the Dragster at Cedar Point.
42. Kiss in the rain.
43. Send a message in a bottle.
44. Learn sign-language.
45. Learn to do a hand stand.
46. Vote for President in a major election.
47. Stand up for something I believe in.
48. Cook an elegant meal, by myself.
49. Have one of my photographs printed in National Geographic.
50. Take an aimless roadtrip out of state with friends.
51. Go fly-fishing.
52. Ride in a helicopter.
53. Take a mud-bath.
54. Fall asleep on a blanket under the stars.
55. Shoot a gun.
56. Dedicate a song to someone on the radio.
57. Visit Greece.
58. Take a carriage ride through Central Park on a snowy night.
59. Sing in a Gospel choir.
60. Buy a famous painting.
61. Visit the Greek Isles.
62. Ride a mechanical bull.
63. Fly in a private jet.
64. Watch the Northern Lights.
65. Start my own campfire.
66. Ride the Orient Express.
67. Have a short story published in a magazine.
68. Go on a missions trip.
69. Slow dance in the middle of an empty street, at night.
70. Graduate college with a major and minor.
71. See all of the Cirque du Soleil shows live.
72. Sleep in the cabin of someone's boat.
73. Learn to ride a motorcycle.
74. Fly first class.
75. See the Great Barrier Reef.
76. Sit on a jury.
77. Get married.
78. Read all of Shakespeare's plays.
79. Read Chopin's "The Awakening", and Tolstoy's "Anna Karenina".
80. Write a passionate love letter to my husband.
81. Buy a summer home.
82. Sleep naked.
83. Drive my own hand-car on a railroad.
84. Watch the ball drop from Times Square.
85. See the Great Wall of China.
86. Eat a meal by candelight.
87. See a broadway play in NYC.
88. Fall asleep in a field of wild flowers.
89. Finish an Ayn Rand novel.
90. Get my picture on a Jones Soda bottle.
91. Save my "I love you" for the person I'll marry.
92. Have a living will.
93. Start a conversation with a complete stranger on an elevator.
94. Visit Capri, Italy.
95. Visit Alentejo, Portugal (Marvao Castle).
96. Become a regular somewhere.
97. Visit all of the National Parks.
98.
99.
100.
They are not in order, and there is not one day that goes by in which I don't think about one of these dreams on my list. I'm slowly, but surely, marking them off...and hopefully one day, I can look back at my life and nod with happiness. I may not accomplish them all, or even half of them, but to dream is to live. Without dreams, goals, desires, what is left to live for?
Monday, May 18, 2009
for seeing is feeling
I went to the eye doctor today for my annual check-up. As I waited, I watched this couple who were trying to find a new pair of frames for the wife. They looked as if they were in their fifties/early sixties, and the man wore a cowboy hat. The wife kept glancing over at me to see if I was watching them struggle with uncertainty. I was watching, of course, because what else is there to do in the office? Stare at the doctor's credentials hanging nicely on the wall? Eavesdrop to the receptionists conversations behind closed, translucent windows? I wasn't about to flip through a dull Parenthood magazine. So I watched this couple out of the corner of my eye, listening to the mumble of their bickering and indecision.
"Who wears these?"
"They are so small!"
"Those rims are too thick!"
"Just pick a pair!"
"These don't fit right."
"But you have to get them fitted anyway, so just pick."
"You're not picking for comfort!"
"I'm not?"
...and so the conversation went until one of the doctors called me in.
I rambled off letters and numbers and picked out which circle looked as if it were floating. I always feel so smart when the lady says, "Good job!", and "That's right!". It's as if I keep giving the right answers in class...and it seemingly makes up for the fact that I don't speak my mind in class. At the eye doctor, I feel as though I am never wrong. They pry answers, and every answer I give is, "Great! You got all of them right! Keep up the good work!". I catch every bone they throw, and it's amazing.
So, I am finally able to walk into the eye doctor's actual quarters, and I sit briefly in the chair while he quizzes me with more letters and a few "Better 1, or 2? Better 3, or 4?". My prescription is basically the same, and I move with sweetly dilated eyes out to where the bickering couple once stood to pick out a second pair of frames for the trip.
Isn't it lovely how they make your pupils abnormally large and your vision blurry, and then send you off to pick out new frames that will be seen on your face for long periods of time? I find it very amusing that I can never see clearly what I am purchasing. I ended up with frames that I can only hope are similar to the ones I have now, minus the squareness, plus some rounded edges. I think that they might be cute.
As I stumble out into the blinding sun, I can't help but wonder about the eye doctor. I go to get my eyes checked out, to make sure I can really see. I briefly wonder about people who stumble out into the blinding light from the cardiologist. A person's heart may be working right, and pumping blood like it should, but can it really feel? Just a thought.
"I've been things and seen places." -- Mae West
"Who wears these?"
"They are so small!"
"Those rims are too thick!"
"Just pick a pair!"
"These don't fit right."
"But you have to get them fitted anyway, so just pick."
"You're not picking for comfort!"
"I'm not?"
...and so the conversation went until one of the doctors called me in.
I rambled off letters and numbers and picked out which circle looked as if it were floating. I always feel so smart when the lady says, "Good job!", and "That's right!". It's as if I keep giving the right answers in class...and it seemingly makes up for the fact that I don't speak my mind in class. At the eye doctor, I feel as though I am never wrong. They pry answers, and every answer I give is, "Great! You got all of them right! Keep up the good work!". I catch every bone they throw, and it's amazing.
So, I am finally able to walk into the eye doctor's actual quarters, and I sit briefly in the chair while he quizzes me with more letters and a few "Better 1, or 2? Better 3, or 4?". My prescription is basically the same, and I move with sweetly dilated eyes out to where the bickering couple once stood to pick out a second pair of frames for the trip.
Isn't it lovely how they make your pupils abnormally large and your vision blurry, and then send you off to pick out new frames that will be seen on your face for long periods of time? I find it very amusing that I can never see clearly what I am purchasing. I ended up with frames that I can only hope are similar to the ones I have now, minus the squareness, plus some rounded edges. I think that they might be cute.
As I stumble out into the blinding sun, I can't help but wonder about the eye doctor. I go to get my eyes checked out, to make sure I can really see. I briefly wonder about people who stumble out into the blinding light from the cardiologist. A person's heart may be working right, and pumping blood like it should, but can it really feel? Just a thought.
"I've been things and seen places." -- Mae West
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Windy Black Clouds
I'm sitting outside in my front yard, staring daringly at the storm clouds in the distance. My entire family is outside somewhere...we are that kind of family, I suppose. My mom is gardening and yelling across the road to the neighbors. Aaron is scrubbing car mats. Lacey and Gavin and their friends are "washing" the cars in our driveway. Jack is basking in the semi-sun, being lazy and dog-like. Moni is sitting next to me, chattering away on the phone.
It's beginning to feel like summertime in Huggiesville. I think summertime storms are my favorite. The wind is wicked and blowing my hair in every which direction. There is no order to the clouds, and the black keeps seeping toward the sunlight. It's amazing and mind-blowing and distracting and I love it.
Last night, I went to the drive-in for the first time this summer, and it brought back so many summer memories. We sat in the back of Tyler's truck, curled up in blankets and laughter. We reminisiced and ate food, and I was genuinely happy to be among my friends from home. Funny how I'm always surprised by and never let down by the great times. It was good to catch up. Summer is good for that kind of thing. Relaxing in the back of friends' trucks, and remembering high school times, and watching drive-in movies with everything one could possibly need within reaching distance.
I'm going to savor it and take everything with me when I'm away from the summer I've always been used to. When I'm in foreign lands and around strangers and possible uncomfortable situations, I will close my eyes and go back to my friends' smiles, their laughter, our inside jokes. There is a certain comfort in remembering, and whether we recognize it or not, it's something we always have at our disposal.
We remember. We forget. But mostly I remember what was, what is, what could have been, and I try to live my life accordingly. Summertime storms. Memories.
It's beginning to feel like summertime in Huggiesville. I think summertime storms are my favorite. The wind is wicked and blowing my hair in every which direction. There is no order to the clouds, and the black keeps seeping toward the sunlight. It's amazing and mind-blowing and distracting and I love it.
Last night, I went to the drive-in for the first time this summer, and it brought back so many summer memories. We sat in the back of Tyler's truck, curled up in blankets and laughter. We reminisiced and ate food, and I was genuinely happy to be among my friends from home. Funny how I'm always surprised by and never let down by the great times. It was good to catch up. Summer is good for that kind of thing. Relaxing in the back of friends' trucks, and remembering high school times, and watching drive-in movies with everything one could possibly need within reaching distance.
I'm going to savor it and take everything with me when I'm away from the summer I've always been used to. When I'm in foreign lands and around strangers and possible uncomfortable situations, I will close my eyes and go back to my friends' smiles, their laughter, our inside jokes. There is a certain comfort in remembering, and whether we recognize it or not, it's something we always have at our disposal.
We remember. We forget. But mostly I remember what was, what is, what could have been, and I try to live my life accordingly. Summertime storms. Memories.
Friday, May 15, 2009
To give you an idea...
This is probably going to be one of my favorite rooms in the ship. 
This is the MV Explorer (The cruise ship I'll be living on for 3 months)
This is one of the dining halls!
This is the MV Explorer (The cruise ship I'll be living on for 3 months)"Ha", she smirked. "That's cute".
I have two years of college under my belt, and I've never really been questioned about my major. It's a funny thing, really. Many of my peers who are going for Creative Writing have been interrogated, eye-balled, and smirked at when asked by their family members or friends what they plan on doing with a "Writing" degree. And their eyes flutter, and their foreheads bead with sweat, and they begin to consider their futures. Well? I'm going to be a Writer, they think, level-headed, and open-minded. And the family member or stranger or whomever decides to question their future walks away with a smile playing upon his or her lips.
I've never really been questioned like that. Sure, I've been asked and given a sturdy nod of the head by family members who either don't understand or don't care to know. I've always been supported by those close to me, those who believe in my dreams as much as I do.
The other day, however, I was given the smirk by a parent as I was waiting to pick up my sister and brother from school. The conversation didn't last but five minutes, as I calmly explained that no, I am not a mom and yes, I go to college and oh, I'm studying creative writing. This stout woman did not know me, and didn't pretend as if she did, but I suddenly got the feeling that she didn't approve. She had the audacity to ask what my mom thought of me studying to become a writer, as if I was taking up wicca and holding seances in my dorm room. She said the word writer in the most skeptical, scoff-like way possible, and I almost cringed.
For a brief moment, I thought I was studying something bad. Then I retrieved my words back, and looked her in the eye. "She's very excited for me, and knows that I will succeed in whatever I do with my life."
I probably didn't state my ideas as clearly as that, and it might have come out of my mouth in more of a mumble, but I think I got my point across. The woman pressed her lips together in a short, tight smile and found her kids, whom I inevitably felt sorry for, and prompty walked away.
Writing is not something that I choose to do. There is no guarantee in the working field, and a B.F.A in Creative Writing is not something that tends to make people think I'm incredibly intelligent, like a scientist or doctor. But I fell into writing as a way to relieve the tensions and stressors of everyday life. It's what allows me to dream and travel and get down on paper what is stored up in my heart.
It may not be a reputable career choice, it may have me working odd jobs for the rest of my life, trying to send my work out on the side, and it may have me struggling for money. But to me, those are the perks. Those are the things that make life worth living. And if I do get to live out my dream and see my name on the bindings of hardbacks in Barnes and Noble, then I will smile thoughtfully to myself, and humbly wonder why anyone would have ever doubted me.
There are plenty of times that I will sit and seriously consider what I want for my life; where I want to live, how I will find a job there, when I will actually write something worth sending to publishers and magazines. There are times when I doubt my writing ability, as most writers do, and times when I think I have absolutely no idea what I plan on doing with my degree.
But...that brings me to this summer. I've been contemplating the classes I will be enrolled in on the ship; two non-fiction writing workshops that will prepare me and aid in the writing of memoirs, essays, and the art of reporting. I've always been big into fiction--what could be more fun then making up stories and characters and places and personalities?--and have never really considered anything else. Now that I am signed up to take some nonfiction courses, my interest has been piqued. I believe in Cairo, one of my assignments is to interview a camel "driver". How insane is that? I can picture myself riding into the Sahara on a camel with this man in sandals and a thick accent, who is sweating profusely, trying his best to answer my weird, touristy questions. I certainly wouldn't consider myself a journalist, but this sounds like fun...
So, aside from the smirks, and weird glances, and questions that make me wonder what in the world I am doing with my life, I enjoy writing. That's the bottom line. I enjoy making things up, proofreading, and talking about literature and authors whose names I can't pronouce. I can only hope this summer will enlighten me and push me out of my fiction comfort zone. Bring on the camel drivers, and shopkeepers who don't speak english, and shady people with pasts I can't begin to fathom.
I'll have my notebook and camera ready.
I've never really been questioned like that. Sure, I've been asked and given a sturdy nod of the head by family members who either don't understand or don't care to know. I've always been supported by those close to me, those who believe in my dreams as much as I do.
The other day, however, I was given the smirk by a parent as I was waiting to pick up my sister and brother from school. The conversation didn't last but five minutes, as I calmly explained that no, I am not a mom and yes, I go to college and oh, I'm studying creative writing. This stout woman did not know me, and didn't pretend as if she did, but I suddenly got the feeling that she didn't approve. She had the audacity to ask what my mom thought of me studying to become a writer, as if I was taking up wicca and holding seances in my dorm room. She said the word writer in the most skeptical, scoff-like way possible, and I almost cringed.
For a brief moment, I thought I was studying something bad. Then I retrieved my words back, and looked her in the eye. "She's very excited for me, and knows that I will succeed in whatever I do with my life."
I probably didn't state my ideas as clearly as that, and it might have come out of my mouth in more of a mumble, but I think I got my point across. The woman pressed her lips together in a short, tight smile and found her kids, whom I inevitably felt sorry for, and prompty walked away.
Writing is not something that I choose to do. There is no guarantee in the working field, and a B.F.A in Creative Writing is not something that tends to make people think I'm incredibly intelligent, like a scientist or doctor. But I fell into writing as a way to relieve the tensions and stressors of everyday life. It's what allows me to dream and travel and get down on paper what is stored up in my heart.
It may not be a reputable career choice, it may have me working odd jobs for the rest of my life, trying to send my work out on the side, and it may have me struggling for money. But to me, those are the perks. Those are the things that make life worth living. And if I do get to live out my dream and see my name on the bindings of hardbacks in Barnes and Noble, then I will smile thoughtfully to myself, and humbly wonder why anyone would have ever doubted me.
There are plenty of times that I will sit and seriously consider what I want for my life; where I want to live, how I will find a job there, when I will actually write something worth sending to publishers and magazines. There are times when I doubt my writing ability, as most writers do, and times when I think I have absolutely no idea what I plan on doing with my degree.
But...that brings me to this summer. I've been contemplating the classes I will be enrolled in on the ship; two non-fiction writing workshops that will prepare me and aid in the writing of memoirs, essays, and the art of reporting. I've always been big into fiction--what could be more fun then making up stories and characters and places and personalities?--and have never really considered anything else. Now that I am signed up to take some nonfiction courses, my interest has been piqued. I believe in Cairo, one of my assignments is to interview a camel "driver". How insane is that? I can picture myself riding into the Sahara on a camel with this man in sandals and a thick accent, who is sweating profusely, trying his best to answer my weird, touristy questions. I certainly wouldn't consider myself a journalist, but this sounds like fun...
So, aside from the smirks, and weird glances, and questions that make me wonder what in the world I am doing with my life, I enjoy writing. That's the bottom line. I enjoy making things up, proofreading, and talking about literature and authors whose names I can't pronouce. I can only hope this summer will enlighten me and push me out of my fiction comfort zone. Bring on the camel drivers, and shopkeepers who don't speak english, and shady people with pasts I can't begin to fathom.
I'll have my notebook and camera ready.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Not just Walt Disney can have his dreams come true..
So, this whole study abroad experience began as a joke, as many big ideas in life do. My roommate and I talked about it, wondered, laughed, and thought...well...why not? What if? Maybe we can...
She did much of the research. I was still intent on dreaming, considering my future with the words "Study Abroad" under my belt. And then we applied with curious expectations.
Those weeks were some of the longest weeks I can recall. We...well I, logged on to the Semester at Sea website multiple times a day, and it became this obsession, this bad habit of crossing my fingers and sending a prayer up and waitingwaitingwaiting. If this trip didn't work out, how would my summer shape up, and where would studying abroad fit in my future? It was becoming a dream that I wasn't going to let go, that I needed somehow to make happen. And finally, my prayers were answered, my crossed fingers provided me with raw luck.
Through January, February, March, and April I filled out paperwork, renewed my passport, got shots for diseases like Malaria and Yellow Fever and Influenza. I sent in forms, applied for a really hefty sounding loan, and contacted the financial aid advisors at U. of Virginia. I recieved a nice grant, and chose my classes aboard the ship, and picked out what field studies I plan on doing while we're in the countries.
When I first applied for SAS, commitment and paperwork never really crossed my mind. And you're probably thinking, "How did it not cross your mind?" When I applied, I was already a million miles away, sipping my lemonade with the umbrella sticking quaintly out of the sweating glass. I was already leaned over the bow of the ship watching the dolphins swoop and dive in front of me. I was already unpacked and taking classes and exploring countries that I'd never given any thought to before. When I applied, I just applied. And then I found out what a broad term "applied" really was.
It always felt so far away, though. Something that I was immensely looking forward to, but would never really be a reality. My roommate and I made signs to hang on our bathroom door, happily counting down the months until we would officially be "on a boat!". When we moved out of our dorm room last week, we took down the "2 Months!" sign and realized that we only have another month to wait. Another month of being grounded, living the lives that we would have normally been living under any other circumstances.
Last night was the first time that it actually hit me. It was around midnight, and I was sleepy, and my mind went whirling. It was weird not having my roommate to talk to, but all of a sudden, it was irrevocably, painstakingly real. I lay in bed thinking to myself...I'm doing this. I'm doing this!
I'm no longer counting down months, but weeks. I've been keeping up with other students who have just gotten back from the Spring 2009 voyage a few weeks ago, and learning about their experiences, their "coming home" days...I cannot possibly fathom what this trip will do, who this trip will make me, when I return. What does seeing the world do to a person? It cultures them...it changes them...it makes them aware, and alert, and passionate about something, everything.
And I am so, so ready to be that person. I'm so ready.
“Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travelers don’t know where they’re going.” - Paul Theroux
She did much of the research. I was still intent on dreaming, considering my future with the words "Study Abroad" under my belt. And then we applied with curious expectations.
Those weeks were some of the longest weeks I can recall. We...well I, logged on to the Semester at Sea website multiple times a day, and it became this obsession, this bad habit of crossing my fingers and sending a prayer up and waitingwaitingwaiting. If this trip didn't work out, how would my summer shape up, and where would studying abroad fit in my future? It was becoming a dream that I wasn't going to let go, that I needed somehow to make happen. And finally, my prayers were answered, my crossed fingers provided me with raw luck.
Through January, February, March, and April I filled out paperwork, renewed my passport, got shots for diseases like Malaria and Yellow Fever and Influenza. I sent in forms, applied for a really hefty sounding loan, and contacted the financial aid advisors at U. of Virginia. I recieved a nice grant, and chose my classes aboard the ship, and picked out what field studies I plan on doing while we're in the countries.
When I first applied for SAS, commitment and paperwork never really crossed my mind. And you're probably thinking, "How did it not cross your mind?" When I applied, I was already a million miles away, sipping my lemonade with the umbrella sticking quaintly out of the sweating glass. I was already leaned over the bow of the ship watching the dolphins swoop and dive in front of me. I was already unpacked and taking classes and exploring countries that I'd never given any thought to before. When I applied, I just applied. And then I found out what a broad term "applied" really was.
It always felt so far away, though. Something that I was immensely looking forward to, but would never really be a reality. My roommate and I made signs to hang on our bathroom door, happily counting down the months until we would officially be "on a boat!". When we moved out of our dorm room last week, we took down the "2 Months!" sign and realized that we only have another month to wait. Another month of being grounded, living the lives that we would have normally been living under any other circumstances.
Last night was the first time that it actually hit me. It was around midnight, and I was sleepy, and my mind went whirling. It was weird not having my roommate to talk to, but all of a sudden, it was irrevocably, painstakingly real. I lay in bed thinking to myself...I'm doing this. I'm doing this!
I'm no longer counting down months, but weeks. I've been keeping up with other students who have just gotten back from the Spring 2009 voyage a few weeks ago, and learning about their experiences, their "coming home" days...I cannot possibly fathom what this trip will do, who this trip will make me, when I return. What does seeing the world do to a person? It cultures them...it changes them...it makes them aware, and alert, and passionate about something, everything.
And I am so, so ready to be that person. I'm so ready.
“Tourists don’t know where they’ve been, travelers don’t know where they’re going.” - Paul Theroux
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Logistics and Statistics
On June 16th, 2009 I will be leaving from Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada to embark on the journey that will probably change my life. I will be gone for a lovely total of 67 days, and am taking 9 transferable credits of classes while aboard the ship. The ports (in order) include Cadiz, Spain; Civitavecchia/ Naples, Italy; Dubrovnik, Croatia; Piraeus (Athens), Greece; Istanbul, Turkey; Varna, Bulgaria; Alexandria (Cairo), Egypt; Casablanca, Morocco; Norfolk, VA, USA.
I cannot put into words how enthralled, exhilarated, and free I feel just thinking about all of these places, some of which I can't even pronounce. But isn't that the beauty of it? Isn't that the point?
When I return, I hope to be cultured. Not in the way that people who move to another state say they are "cultured", but truly, unforgivingly cultured. I want to be informed. I want to be able to pronouce the cities in which I will be traveling. I want to learn about the people, the language, the art, the music, and the history. I want to meet the poor and visit the sick, and listen to their stories, their lives. I want to dance barefoot in the desert and jump off cliffs into waters so clear that I might catch my own reflection on the way down. I want to ride a camel, and hike a volcano, and sing lovesongs in a gondola. I want to eat foods that look and taste indescribable. I have so many ambitions and hopes and fears...but most of all...
I want to appreciate other cultures. I want to gain a sense of awareness, and live by that awareness until the day I die. If I can't appreciate my surroundings and the people who build their cultures around their own unique values and morals, then I'm no traveler, and hardly a person, at all.
Here are some fun facts about Semester at Sea. Indulge yourself.
-The MV Explorer (the ship) is the fastest passenger ship of its kind in the world.
-We will be traveling with about 450 other students (and everyone will probably know each other really well within the first week).
-There is an 8,000 volume library on board the ship. I think my heart melted a little.
-Some of the guest speakers that have enlightened the students aboard the Explorer include Indira Gandhi (Indian Prime Minister), Fidel Castro (Cuban President), Mother Teresa (Nobel Laureate), SHRM King Mohamed VI (King of Morocco), Nelson Mandela (First President of South Africa, Nobel Laureate), and Arthur C. Clark (Author of 2001: A Space Odyssey).
To leave you with a nice little quote: “I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.” - Susan Sontag
I cannot put into words how enthralled, exhilarated, and free I feel just thinking about all of these places, some of which I can't even pronounce. But isn't that the beauty of it? Isn't that the point?
When I return, I hope to be cultured. Not in the way that people who move to another state say they are "cultured", but truly, unforgivingly cultured. I want to be informed. I want to be able to pronouce the cities in which I will be traveling. I want to learn about the people, the language, the art, the music, and the history. I want to meet the poor and visit the sick, and listen to their stories, their lives. I want to dance barefoot in the desert and jump off cliffs into waters so clear that I might catch my own reflection on the way down. I want to ride a camel, and hike a volcano, and sing lovesongs in a gondola. I want to eat foods that look and taste indescribable. I have so many ambitions and hopes and fears...but most of all...
I want to appreciate other cultures. I want to gain a sense of awareness, and live by that awareness until the day I die. If I can't appreciate my surroundings and the people who build their cultures around their own unique values and morals, then I'm no traveler, and hardly a person, at all.
Here are some fun facts about Semester at Sea. Indulge yourself.
-The MV Explorer (the ship) is the fastest passenger ship of its kind in the world.
-We will be traveling with about 450 other students (and everyone will probably know each other really well within the first week).
-There is an 8,000 volume library on board the ship. I think my heart melted a little.
-Some of the guest speakers that have enlightened the students aboard the Explorer include Indira Gandhi (Indian Prime Minister), Fidel Castro (Cuban President), Mother Teresa (Nobel Laureate), SHRM King Mohamed VI (King of Morocco), Nelson Mandela (First President of South Africa, Nobel Laureate), and Arthur C. Clark (Author of 2001: A Space Odyssey).
To leave you with a nice little quote: “I haven’t been everywhere, but it’s on my list.” - Susan Sontag
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