tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37484368002365285192024-03-05T03:10:59.189-08:00This is the LifeLivin the Adventure One Day at a TimeAngiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-75285194759333833972012-01-09T18:00:00.000-08:002012-01-09T18:56:46.164-08:00Bringin in the New Year with class<div align="center"><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div><div>Well, I can't say I've always had the best New Year's Eves. The topper was the millennium New Year's ('99-2000) when my cousin paid me $75 big ones to watch his two girls instead of going to the bash of the century with my entire 9th grade world. The night ended with one girl having pink eye, the other having a fever, and me running around the front yard at midnight banging a pot and a lid by myself while the wee ones stood on the porch looking at me groggily and confused with a pot in each hand. Not my finest hour.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>This year, however, turned that frown right upside down. There were no fancy parties, dress-up clothes, or Martinelli's.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>But there was a fort. </div><div>And there were hobbits.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Not only did Robbie and I build our own shelter in my family room, we stocked it with pillows and blankets galore, a never-ending supply of orange juice, and snuggled up for a full-blown Lord of the Rings Marathon!! Can you imagine a better way to spend New Year's? I dare you to try.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695827511025249506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3XP1gnV54dSOUBizFWHwGDkrSYH2-duGivnQSi2LK7G5bjW-p1JmYDvzTAORdHDqvQkOFPX_r1q2ORdnXajtIcWeE8vX4adQWnoToN7QLsr8TwyQwqa142J0d5UHnLJ3qdT4kqJRE14Q/s320/IMG_2325%255B1%255D" /></div><div> Building the fort. Tricksy business but well worth it in the end.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695829710384841538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz3gv4NrqJWmXhXxdDHofWq5M5rzJkvnwQr1rh-FKId_4APoTegQTDmgxQkDQpqUd0IA8NkH_xSSAVlChftN_pO0x_BchXVtvW9Gxjpa34EcC1MF4ORVJ1JOObERECggQ2dOutkseJaGM/s320/IMG_2329%255B1%255D" /></div><div> </div><div> If you think the <em>outside </em>looks awesome, just you wait. </div><div> </div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695821457973500242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7e3opl9ntsNkgjAx7yO1vUqZZBQoGfxueuPSmJeiOkLvE8ah3nD5JSQFHktlzGecLcFqa7X-BoFq_uCnXh8wl10sYRdAYm_sfmi1FpuTfWEPNTuPtYO4IjgdoOEQtSs51_eJFgna6bXI/s320/IMG_2326%255B1%255D" /></div><div> </div><div>There it is! Sooooooooooooooo excited!</div><div> </div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695821463500273746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutOZAAf_y8EYhuNWbz7Qx7mdR10dbO8K_ga3pTMaBalWbvfuomFNc88Jc-J-XFy4Rt614zRmPQBsIJI5jlSSLMhmELmskGklDRYNAMSGzEyy5JUWv99DJqSwtyqWWEboAoFroX9u_21w/s320/IMG_2327%255B1%255D" /></div><div> </div><div> Can you see the anticipation in his eyes?</div><div> </div><div> </div><div> <img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695826891765607042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs4GOTMG2RPQeeG8PPCgUrpQKbt1g8wOhRg26_tEc-jxu9Y6oWRBMVirDZ_w_0ReZJb1QkwwfFpABeuTpdKBSfeYBPb5z03LHUWb6i50zZQEggw915trn-IwTT2VYkZzVNE5eRoKwVSAg/s320/IMG_2334%255B1%255D" /></div><div> We didn't make it through all three. In fact, we really only made it through about one and a half, but we gave it a noble effort. </div><div> </div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5695822512364990162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg80Ew7U1Ff_nW9oXZWUG_XpwziBF71ciqbsg0wo2GuD_HvHadAQwiNCyZL7vKI5A0T1W4Qc471cpWR304V3jM9A5JQBku47D-do7ekkSFwXwFOQDSBpL4sRP2waC969j_nPzTispT13Og/s320/IMG_2335%255B1%255D" />And to top it all off, this guy gave me the best present ever:</div><div> </div><div>My very first New Year's kiss. </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-65882442661743909292011-11-06T20:31:00.000-08:002011-11-06T21:28:22.482-08:00An Experiment in Domesticity"Walk feminine, talk feminine, da-da-da-da-da-da-DA feminine..." or so Disney says. One of those unfortunate but required feminine qualities is that of cooking. I, as many know, have no moves in the kitchen. My diet consists of frozen burritos, Pizza pockets, Mac & Cheese, and anything that can be eaten straight out of the fridge. However, as part of a self-improvement phase I've been trying out recently, I decided to tempt fate and voluntarily hosted a dinner party/girls' night at my new digs (aka parents' basement) in Murray last night with some old roommates. And this was the result:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OfB5oPxU2aUPCqHNgDGSviSjT5fK6Elv8Kz9f-51d-3Lboe94KJCRf_cs3E7jOhkicY9vJ9snXBH2QCq5v9CpBuX4XcxeDIk-3h8Uo0JAXQ1ikIhU7XgLz-ZxSQmZPSf-boeNNHN07o/s1600/IMG_2307%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7OfB5oPxU2aUPCqHNgDGSviSjT5fK6Elv8Kz9f-51d-3Lboe94KJCRf_cs3E7jOhkicY9vJ9snXBH2QCq5v9CpBuX4XcxeDIk-3h8Uo0JAXQ1ikIhU7XgLz-ZxSQmZPSf-boeNNHN07o/s320/IMG_2307%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672111604623216882" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgELAFaKPfTbxtHY5yiU70cKWEKk5U8qpJSyfzLNgpD1_0NXQQORJD9YGbXzgKJBvvdK70pfrkMd3xjMi6Pd9R7c7Aicus49cmpMGoyZ1yGOP3P0dK68FEK0AJRUlzomn6uHCNoKI0CpjY/s1600/IMG_2309%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgELAFaKPfTbxtHY5yiU70cKWEKk5U8qpJSyfzLNgpD1_0NXQQORJD9YGbXzgKJBvvdK70pfrkMd3xjMi6Pd9R7c7Aicus49cmpMGoyZ1yGOP3P0dK68FEK0AJRUlzomn6uHCNoKI0CpjY/s320/IMG_2309%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672111608964247410" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQt5wptlOom_healqjjsEwMf7oep7h2QwfBVyEwlWcyLmC0YcKDxTrBzwDeUlzPqKneAL8mQOK00kX4-LxBcN8SDFw6vKIciRZAz0iPep8YvJJFoDKKnHKb3ng6M6iWhXv0FN-_-KLNk/s1600/IMG_2303%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQt5wptlOom_healqjjsEwMf7oep7h2QwfBVyEwlWcyLmC0YcKDxTrBzwDeUlzPqKneAL8mQOK00kX4-LxBcN8SDFw6vKIciRZAz0iPep8YvJJFoDKKnHKb3ng6M6iWhXv0FN-_-KLNk/s320/IMG_2303%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672111592808565218" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHQR0a-D9OYNOIox7NcRfUGgtC_GBhfjbXRZGoly5QE_frdmNJjtv5jnwWW8J8B6BL2UpDsAKB07gsId5Sn-U3BAoXawF_YxlKdnD-xuurr9M81KmCS3dp71wJF42BXMYTWiQik2xUwM/s1600/IMG_2302%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYHQR0a-D9OYNOIox7NcRfUGgtC_GBhfjbXRZGoly5QE_frdmNJjtv5jnwWW8J8B6BL2UpDsAKB07gsId5Sn-U3BAoXawF_YxlKdnD-xuurr9M81KmCS3dp71wJF42BXMYTWiQik2xUwM/s320/IMG_2302%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672111592283530594" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXvhFZDHc7Zm4XmEPSmwM5xuPYRQsrRsVVGYo6UowMtQNFaWYTX-ycfezIgHwBrmrsbMQixi8IaVhG6eNw7jE3nV3Cppg8D4FF8BKUFVlcr33S3Ybz5zJJObgnS1J6UwDTqDUcpz6CasU/s1600/IMG_2311%255B1%255D"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXvhFZDHc7Zm4XmEPSmwM5xuPYRQsrRsVVGYo6UowMtQNFaWYTX-ycfezIgHwBrmrsbMQixi8IaVhG6eNw7jE3nV3Cppg8D4FF8BKUFVlcr33S3Ybz5zJJObgnS1J6UwDTqDUcpz6CasU/s320/IMG_2311%255B1%255D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5672111619656537906" border="0" /></a><br />I didn't poison anyone! In fact, it actually tasted halfway decent! This is a very big moment in my "growing up" process. It turns out, I CAN follow a recipe and not make a disaster of everything.<br /><br />Win.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-65522253261576804332011-08-16T01:33:00.000-07:002011-08-16T01:44:08.027-07:00simple blissAfter work today, Robbie came up to Murray and I took him to O Falafel to give him a little taste of Jerusalem because I still miss it so much sometimes it hurts. He loved it (or so he tells me). Win.
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<br />We then headed over to Sugarhouse park and laid in the grass during the golden hour listening to a gospel choir perform, talking, laughing, lovin, and havin our "souls marinate in spirituality." Heaven. Mondays in the Park are my new favorite thing.
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<br />We finished out the night with Arctic Circle shakes and the Adjustment Bureau. Before watching I warned him he better not fall asleep because we have been waiting a long time to see this movie! Well shortly after my warning that an unspeakable evil will be unleashed if he were to doze, I fell asleep, of course. Story of my life. And he didn't even rub it in my face. What a gem. What a day.
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<br />So simple, but SO good. I love my life.
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<br />Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-18578099661786545162011-08-07T07:43:00.000-07:002011-08-07T07:44:20.297-07:00YessssssssssssssssJust got paid.<br /><br />Jobs are awesome.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-53637768828855112852011-07-21T17:15:00.001-07:002011-07-21T18:42:29.336-07:00Leaving NeverlandWell peeps, it's real.<br /><br />I am officially a down-town-walkin', lunch-break-takin', computer-systems-learnin', water-cooler-chattin', cubicle-sittin', health-benefits-gettin', commutin', post-graduate workin' woman! (If you followed that, WOW, I am impressed)<br /><br />I am very happy to have some direction in my life and am SOOOOO grateful to have a job. But for the sake of being honest, I will tell you I have some mixed emotions about this whole "working" business. I mean, giving up the days of gettin' my swim on at the pool whenever I want was a big blow. Bigger than I was prepared for. For some self-expression, I'm gonna take you through the annals of my mind and tell you why I'm SO excited to have this job as well as tell you what I miss about the pre-job simple life.<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">Why my job is awesome:</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><ul><br /><li>I am still working with kids the age I love, in the field of education, without having to prepare lessons for HOURS every night. (I really do want to teach later on, but that whole lesson-planning thing flat-out bites).<br /></li><br /><li>I'm doing something worthwhile. The kids I get to work with are all in need of some intervention. They have all dropped out of high school for various reasons and the program I work for gives them the chance to get their diploma and get their lives back on track. I have already been SO inspired by some of their stories.<br /></li><br /><li>The people in my office are awesome. awesome and quirky. Just the way I like 'em.<br /></li><br /><li>We had an office birthday party today in the breakroom. with cake. by the water cooler. I felt like I was watching it happen on TV.<br /></li><br /><li>I work down-town and it makes me feel real classy. I can take my sack lunch and go eat in Gallivan center plaza, walking amongst the business men in their collared shirts and ties, and I think to myself..."Whoa...I am one of you."<br /></li><br /><li>I have two, count them TWO, screens for my computer. Sometimes I just sit for a second and watch the mouse move back and forth between the two screens because it blows my mind.<br /></li><br /><li>I get a salary. Weird. I can FINALLY start paying back those student loans and maaaaaybe even eventuallyyyyyy <span style="font-size:78%;">get a new car. </span><span style="font-size:100%;">WHAT?! No! Never! Gladice I would never!</span><br /></li><br /><li>Later on, I am told I will have a lot of flexibility with the job. I will probably even be able to work from home two days a week. Yessss<br /></li><br /><li>Everyone that works for this awesome company is there because they genuinely want the kids to succeed. That is their top priority. It's really refreshing to see humanity at work.<br /></li></ul><br /><p><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Things I miss about the simple life:</span></strong><br /></p><br /><ul><br /><li>As previously stated, going to the pool whenever I want.<br /></li><br /><li>My morning routine of sleeping in, reading, working out, and thinking, "So...what do I want to do with myself today?!"<br /></li><br /><li>The choice to go on a morning hike (although this summer I never, not once, took advantage of this blessing despite my many failed attempts). But still, having the choice was nice.<br /></li><br /><li>Not having a bed time. When you have the morning routine stated above, why do you need to be well-rested? I'll tell you. You don't. It's awesome.<br /></li><br /><li>Not only do I work 8 hours each day, but I drive anywhere from 2-3 because I am currently living in Provo, working in downtown Salt Lake. The commute sometimes is only an hour but SOMETIMES it's not, which makes me want to roll all my windows up so no one can hear me and scream at the top of my lungs. But I don't do that, because it's too hot to roll the windows up and Gladice doesn't have air conditioning.<br /></li><br /><li>I can't just go on vacation whenever I want anymore. I have a specified number of "Personal Time Off" days (foreign concept) and have to request them well in advance. Sadly, when you first start a job, you have even less freedom, which means that of all the following activities happening within the next two months (a friend's wedding, my graduation, Havasupai with friends, camping trip also with friends, Lake Powell with the fam, California with my girls, Lagoon with my big family, Seven Peaks with my sisters, and so on and so on) I can't do them all. In fact, I can't do most of them. Whaaaaaaaaa.....?</li></ul><br /><p>Looking at this list now that I've compiled it, I realize that I sound more like a child than a 26-year old. But alas, I am young at heart and will always pine for the freedom I once had. Is that selfish?</p><br /><p>BUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT with that said, I have to say the pro's outweigh the con's. As much as I hate to admit it, it's time to be an adult. And it actually feels kind of good. Being productive, earning a living, it really feels...refreshing. All this time, my dad was right. Who woulda thought?</p><br /><p>So now that you have seen into the deep caverns of my mind, I will tell you how grateful I am to have this job. I will love what I will be doing each day. There are some sacrifices but when you put it into perspective, what meaningful, enriched life was spent by the side of a pool? </p>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-71446378149600433262011-05-23T13:46:00.000-07:002011-05-23T13:55:10.462-07:00So American.The other day my mom and I were out shopping when my dad called saying he wanted us to stop for some Taco Bell tacos on the way home. We went through the drive-thru and my mom saw this deal: 12 tacos for only $10. Mind you, I wasn't hungry, nor was she. But still, this deal screamed out to her. Our dialogue went something like this:<br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">"Look babe, maybe we should get this deal. 12 tacos for only 10 bucks."</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"Mom, I don't think Dad needs 12 tacos."</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">"Well, yeah but he'll probably want like three, plus maybe one for me and one for you."</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000099;">"We're not really hungry."</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;">"Yeah, but we might want just one. So if we get those five it's gonna be around 5 bucks anyway. We might as well get the deal."</span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"></span><br />I paused for a second, thought through that, and replied,<br /><span style="color:#000099;">"Yep. Let's pay twice as much to get WAY more than we need. We are so American."</span>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-6947466986445499672011-05-16T18:28:00.000-07:002011-05-16T18:31:10.243-07:00Love is......when you find someone that makes you feel like driving around lost for three hours due to making 16 wrong turns was the time of your life.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-60264757732898979862011-03-12T05:42:00.001-08:002011-03-12T06:05:23.150-08:00DC TimesHey folks!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I know it's been awhile and I have lots and lots to catch you up on. Unfortunately this is gonna be a quick one, hopefully followed by a longer one sometime soon. And it's not even about school (though I do have some really funny stories to add to the list).<br /><br />What I DO want to share happened about a month ago when this guy....<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv0wcFy4aZrxOg84QwgdkqU9enmnOQx0HXvSYIBVlf8hP8DgehIht7OS1zRCglVUvNNXKfqiF3wwfcvntFCp1QO-O8nuu-NJImLGJ7_rD2To3-82J4buqiwM9JMrcX98udnuC5GP_ldsk/s1600/IMG_1343%255B1%255D.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv0wcFy4aZrxOg84QwgdkqU9enmnOQx0HXvSYIBVlf8hP8DgehIht7OS1zRCglVUvNNXKfqiF3wwfcvntFCp1QO-O8nuu-NJImLGJ7_rD2To3-82J4buqiwM9JMrcX98udnuC5GP_ldsk/s320/IMG_1343%255B1%255D.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5583190969094829138" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">...came to visit. It was a dream and the best three and a half days I could have asked for. The tragedy is that the above picture was one of only three pictures that were taken THE ENTIRE WEEKEND! What is wrong with me?! Never again will I let so many photo opps pass me by. Anyways, despite not having photographic evidence of the weekend, it was a blast (you'll just have to trust me). We went all over and saw everything we could fit in. Memorials and museums to your heart's content. We even ate Ethiopian food which was an interesting and (dare I say) delicious experience. The whole weekend was so good and just what I needed.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Now just five semanas before it happens again!<br /></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-72942386102885537922011-02-06T05:11:00.000-08:002011-02-06T05:47:46.417-08:00To Be The ExceptionSomething happened when we first arrived here in DC that I've been thinking a lot about lately. It wasn't anything really big, but something that still made me take a minute and think. We were going on tours of all the schools we were going to be working with. At one point we went on a tour of Duke Ellington High School (a performing arts school) where they had just performed the show Dream Girls. On a wall near the front of the school was a big sign that said,<div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> "What's Your Dream?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">The kids had written all kinds of answers on pieces of paper and stuck them up to the wall. Most were fairly detailed and lengthy. Some talked about graduation, some about which college they wanted to go to, some mentioned Broadway. But there was one that stuck out to me. All it said was, </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"To Be The Exception."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">I've been thinking a lot about that lately. On several levels. First, on the kids' level. For many of them, academic success IS being the exception. At my school, so many of my kids have rough home lives and parents that are not involved in the least. For them to rise above that is to be the exception. For us, it was expected to do well in school. For many of them, it's not. I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I guess just to say that I never realized how much harder it must be for them to try when they know that if they fail, no one will care. It makes me realize how little patience I've had with some of them since I got here, even when I tried not to let it show. My mindset wasn't in the right place. More than someone constantly getting after them or disciplining them, they need someone to show that they care if they succeed. It's a trickier road and may take awhile to earn that trust, but that's going to motivate them to be the exception way more than being yelled at all the time. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">This phrase also made me think of how often I push myself to be the exception. I feel like I've lived an okay life. But is that because the path to do so was laid out right in front of me? In what areas of my life do I push myself to go beyond what's expected of me and really stretch myself to become the exception? It also made me wonder who in my life has worked to become the exception. My dad is one of those. Growing up, he was surrounded by a very different lifestyle than the one he chooses to live now. And I'll never be able to show enough gratitude for that. My brother-in-law is also the exception. He rose above what teachers initially saw in him to show them how dedicated he was to his future. He is, without a doubt, the most dedicated student I have ever seen and will be a phenomenal doctor because of it. Florina, my Romanian sister, is the exception. Despite her family's struggles, she did her best to make something of herself and now uses that to help her family. She is one of the most selfless people I know. The list goes on and on. Every day, people rise above expectations to become something better. So I guess what I want to say is just that I'm grateful for those people in my life. They inspire me to be something better than what I am. They make me want to be the exception. </div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-22418121649424909062011-01-26T14:26:00.000-08:002011-01-27T08:31:53.156-08:00It's about time!<p>Well folks, it's real! I'm here. In DC. Teaching. We have had a whirlwind of a time since we've been here. We've been in the schools for 2 1/2 weeks and I have new funny stories to share every single day from our kids, our teachers, our administrators, you name it. Here is a little sampling of some of my most unforgettable moments in the classroom thus far. Mind you, this is just a small portion of what we have experienced up til now, but there are some gems. </p><br /><ul><br /><li>Our mentor teacher's name is Ms. Wickersham, but the kids all know her as "MIZ WIKASHAM!" and let me tell you, this woman has ATTITUDE. It must be something that just comes eventually when you teach in this setting but this white, middle-aged woman can keep up with the best of our thugs and divas. Today, after confronting one student about not coming in at lunch to work on her project like she was supposed to, Ms. Wickersham received attitude and a pretty dramatic eye roll from said student. She went after her, backed her (literally) into a corner, and said, "Erica, when are you gonna learn. I am older than you, bigger than you, uglier than you, and yes, I WILL jack you up!" Yes, that is a direct quote. Of course, there is always a very subtle tone of joking when things like this are said but still, these kids know not to cross the line with Miz Wikasham.<br /></li><li>On our first day, we were standing outside the classroom talking to Ms. Wickersham when another student, Lali, yelled from the back of the classroom, "Who are THEY?!" obviously talking about the two new white girls speaking to their teacher. Ms. Wickersham didn't even miss a beat before yelling, "Oh I KNOW you did not just say 'who are <em>they</em>!'" Seeing her mistake, Lali swallowed her attitude and in her sweetest voice, replied, "I mean, who are those pretty ladies Miz Wikasham?"<br /></li><li>When Josh, one of our craziest kids, couldn't remember my name one of our first mornings there, he just looked at me confused for a minute and said, "Miz Puchi...? Cabuchi...? Oh I know, Miz Cheeto!" Needless to say, I gave up on the kids trying to learn Ms. Trujillo. I am now Miz T. Although Josh still calls me Miz Cheeto.<br /></li><li>One day one of our girls came in after school to work on a project involving Shiva, one of the Hindu deities. Her task was to think of popular song titles that illustrate the traits of this particular deity. From across the room she shouted out, "Isn't that da one dat's half man half woman?" When I said yes, she said, "Well, I'm gonna pick dat one song by Katy Perry. You know, dat one dat's like 'ya hot then yo cold, ya yes then yo no. It works because Shiva, she don know what ta do wit he'self!"</li><br /><li>While having a class discussion on Buddhism which was in <em>no way</em> related to sexual intimacy, one girl asked, "What if you a Buddhist and ya have sex a lot? Is that bad?" When Ms. Wickersham said, "Yes, Domonique, that's bad," Dom replied, "But what if ya not married?"</li><br /><li>One day two kids were running down the hall being completely out of control (which in this school is UNACCEPTABLE) and Courtney, my roommate that I team-teach with in Ms. Wickersham's classroom, ended up catching them both by the arm and dragging them back to the teacher that would discipline them. One of our boys witnessed the catch and said, "Man, Miz Hruby, you're startin' ta get the hang a' this teacher thing."</li><br /><li>One of the things I think I'm going to learn before I leave this place is how to be stern with the kids when I need to. In all my teaching experience up til now, I always really wanted the kids to like me. I still do, naturally, but I am also learning that if the kids call me mean every once in awhile, that's more of a compliment than an insult. It means that I'm pushing them past where they want to be and that I'm choosing to care about that more than being liked by them. My roommate mastered this right away in our classroom but it's taken me a few weeks to be able to push past that need to be liked. It's a work in progress but I'm learning. The other day I told Rashaad with a little attitude of my own that if he'd stop talking during warm-up, he'd actually understand what was going on in class. His response was, "Man, i thoughtchoo wa' da nice one." Win. </li><br /><li>Just a few days later, the kids were working on projects using laptops in the classroom. One boy, Jason, was using his computer to play games, take pictures, change his password a kajillion times, <em>anything</em> other than what he was supposed to be doing. I'd already gotten after him a few times with no results. I finally came and stood right behind him and stayed there, arms folded, looking at him. Feeling extremely uncomfortable, he kept telling me to go away. When I gave no response but to look at him with the look, he decided to be clever and funny, changing his password one final time to "ihatethewomanstandingbehindme" which he said out loud to the kids around him. A few of them snickered nervously and looked at me, maybe wondering if I was going to break. I stayed there and said, "so be it." Jason's next move was pulling up his project to work on it. </li></ul><p></p><ul><li>For the most part, the kids have a LOT of attitude with each other but give us very little of the nasty stuff. But man is it funny to watch them interact. One dirty look requires an entire body roll to get the full effect. Sometimes I don't even understand the slang they use with each other. </li><br /><li>As far as other adults in the school go, we have some winners. Ms. Hernandez is the guidance counselor for the seventh grade and she may be the sweetest creature I have ever met. She is probably 4'10" and 100 lbs. soaking wet. She's Hispanic with a thick little accent and she loves chatting with us. The other day, she told us, "Oh, I tried to make a joke today to da keedz, and I thought it would be so funny. They were doing make-up work and I said, ' It's make-up time, but not like estee lauder!' But no one laughed! I should have said Bonnebelle or something. Oh well, next time I guess." And then she just laughed and walked out. Haha, love her. </li><br /><li>Among the adults in the school, we also have the scariest vice principal known to man. He is a middle-aged black man with a BOOMING voice. He is so nice to us and the rest of the faculty but he is the kids' worst nightmare. For some of them, he may be the only person in their life that they are truly scared of. This is just one of the several instances I have heard him giving a whooping to a badly-behaved kid. From what I can remember, it went something like this: "Now WHY were you outside?! Boy, you LOOK at me when I'm talkin to you! You go downstairs and you think of a good answer to that question. You just wasted a minute and 27 seconds of my life that I am never gonna get back." After the boy leaves, he turns to Ms. Wickersham and says (still fairly loudly and within earshot of the kid) "I thought you said he was smart." </li></ul><p>Well, that's probably about enough for now. Man, these kids are HILARIOUS. Every day in our classroom is a new adventure. I love every single second of it. </p>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-5372607970055018972010-12-07T14:50:00.000-08:002010-12-07T14:59:18.936-08:00failure?So...life is still really awesome but....<br /><br />I AM READY TO BE DONE WITH SCHOOL!<br /><br />I can't take it anymore. Seven more days and I feel like I am losing steam exponentially each day. And what stinks about that is that these classes are not just typical, 500-people, freshman level classes that I don't care about. These classes are important! They are supposed to be training me to become a teacher. But because I have lost momentum and am beginning to feel like I am failing at school, I am beginning to feel like I will fail at teaching too. I know this sounds really dramatic and I'm sure they are not inseparably linked, but I really need to find my chi. Because if you fail at a "teaching class," isn't that a bad sign for when you actually start teaching?<br /><br />There is hope. I will endure. I will find a way.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-78007724106200749532010-12-04T11:55:00.001-08:002010-12-04T11:56:01.989-08:00FYILife is perfect and I am happier than ever.<br /><br />:)Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-74405384675983209192010-11-18T08:33:00.000-08:002010-11-18T08:35:37.498-08:00Maybe it's timeDear Self,<br /><br />It is time to change your ways. It is not normal to think to yourself, "Okay, it's midnight. That means I still have 8 hours to work on this paper before I have to turn it in in the morning."<br /><br />You need to sleep.<br /><br />Love,<br /><br />MeAngiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-59161635297894604192010-11-10T22:58:00.001-08:002010-11-11T09:28:33.285-08:00narcoleptic?<strong><span style="color:#000000;">4:38pm</span></strong> - Arrive at library to finish last 12 pages of paper<br /><br /><strong><span style="color:#000000;">7:45pm</span></strong> - Take dinner break and buy 3 cookies to get through the long night<br /><br /><strong>10:10pm</strong> - Start getting sleepy from lack of previous night's sleep.<br /><br /><strong>10:15pm</strong> - Lay head down on arm and fall asleep for 15 minutes.<br /><br /><strong>10:30pm</strong> - Wake up from arm-sleep, work a teeny, go down aisle to find book<br /><br /><strong>10:40pm</strong> - While flipping through book, get sleepy again<br /><br /><strong>10:45pm</strong> - Lay down IN THE AISLE and fall asleep because you're shameless and have no control. This time it's 40 minutes<br /><br /><strong>11:25pm</strong> - Get woken up by the vacuum guy. Stand up awkwardly and pretend like you weren't sleeping even though you both know you were. Go back to table.<br /><br /><strong>11:30pm</strong> - Get sleepy again and succumb to arm-sleep once more.<br /><br /><strong>11:40pm</strong> - Wake up from arm-sleep and decide maybe it's time to walk home.<br /><br /><strong>11:55pm</strong> - Arrive home and spend all night on the couch in and out of sleep while writing said paper.<br /><br /><br />I think maybe I have a problem...Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-39930428060568073822010-11-08T14:23:00.000-08:002010-11-08T14:35:03.780-08:00You have to tell us what happened!I've already had the best moment of my week and it's only MONDAY! As you can probably guess, this best moment has nothing to do with the paper I have to finish today, and EVERYTHING to do with teaching (okay, you may not have guessed that last part based on recent emotional breakdowns I've had, but bear with me).<br /><br />Today, I was teaching my crazies again in the ESL class. We ran out of time and I was telling them about the issue of slavery in writing the constitution. The BEST part was when I told them we didn't have time to finish and they had to put their binders away. Seriously, 4 or 5 of my CRAZIEST kids got all worried and said, "Wait! You have to tell us what happened! What did they decide?!"<br /><br />Wha...?! They wanted to learn for the sake of learning? It wasn't to get a treat or a prize or anything? Yes. They just wanted to learn. I realized right then that that is a moment I will live for as a teacher. I told them that if they hurried back to their seats before the bell rang I would tell them. All the kids ran back to their desks and were SILENT so I would finish the story.<br /><br />Awesome.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-16770770178085156782010-11-03T21:05:00.000-07:002010-11-03T22:30:14.608-07:00From the Lowest of Lows to the Highest of Highs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVlE-2wBTlWZ4aoArpB3_sNZLtYfRhyphenhyphenqaF4t50OGI8quzUJVdrxBZcfB1KlFfx2wH0B8NOpDTfyvoIg8BD3vokqp8QDCSZXm0OK2JGE1Y9lzyef3Fu-3ijOZJvAcODxFYDw19ghnobxw/s1600/frustrated3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535558527328673794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 238px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVlE-2wBTlWZ4aoArpB3_sNZLtYfRhyphenhyphenqaF4t50OGI8quzUJVdrxBZcfB1KlFfx2wH0B8NOpDTfyvoIg8BD3vokqp8QDCSZXm0OK2JGE1Y9lzyef3Fu-3ijOZJvAcODxFYDw19ghnobxw/s320/frustrated3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div>So I had an interesting experience this week. I have previously mentioned various teaching experiences I have had and how excited they have made me to be a real full-time teacher. Especially in a middle school. For some strange reason that is incomprehensible to my friends and family, I feel like my place is among the 13-year olds. (similar maturity levels you ask?....perhaps)<br /><br />Well, this week I discovered that teaching is not all sunshine and roses.<br /><br />For the past month, I've been working with a middle school ESL class and to put it lightly, they are THE MOST OUT-OF-CONTROL CLASS I've ever seen. Cute kids, but seriously crazy. Their teacher's style of discipline was very different from any I've ever been taught, and from what I could tell was not very effective. So on Monday I had the opportunity to teach them for the first time. And despite the very clear warning signs that I had been given, I was under the impression that they would never be a problem for <em>me. I</em> would surely be able to handle them with a healthy little dose of TLC. After all, they had shown during the previous month that they liked me and gave me high-fives whenever they came into their classroom and saw me there. That's a recipe for a healthy teaching environment, right?<br /><br />No. No. No. It was one of the hardest days I've ever had. Just an hour and a half with those kids and I was at my wit's end with how to deal with them. They yelled, chatted, were constantly up out of their seats, never listened, were never on task, complained, you name it. I came home that day more depressed than ever. I was blindsided. By 13-year olds. I never even saw it coming. I cried a little, said a prayer, cried a little more, called my dad. For the first time since choosing my major, I started to wonder if this is something I'm really cut out for. What if I was just a horrible teacher and I just never had enough experience in the classroom to realize it? The moment that day that had broken my heart was when one little girl, who had previously been my biggest fan, threw her head back at one point and said (rather loudly), "I would rather be ANYWHERE but here!" Okay, how do you not take that personally? I word-vomited all this onto my poor father, who lovingly replied, "Ang, you're going to be fine. It was one day. To be honest, I don't know why you ever wanted to be in a middle school anyway." Then my heart sunk as I realized, maybe they were all right. All those people who told me it's crazy to want to teach kids in middle school full-time. What if I should really be in a high school?! It's too late!! I'm already set up to teach in a junior high in DC!! What if I die?!?! Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />Luckily, as outlined by the title of this post things got better. 1000X better. Today, Wednesday, I had the chance to teach my beloved crazies again. And something magical happened.<br /><br />They listened.<br /><br />I don't know what did the trick. Whether it was the new seating arrangement, the new rules, the different activity for the lesson, or all three. But for some reason, we connected today. They weren't out-of-control, in fact they were the most in-control I've ever seen them. In the beginning they complained of course, but by the end of the lesson my biggest complainers, "the divas" as I like to call them, were more into the lesson than anyone. They were shouting at the other kids to go faster! To say their part right! They were running to accomplish their task! It was AWESOME. Not only did they have fun and get really into the lesson, but they LEARNED it. At the end of class I wanted to see how effective it had been so I was throwing out questions fast,<br /><br />"What was our first form of government after the Revolutionary War?"<br />"Why didn't it work?"<br />"What year was the constitution written?"<br />"What was Shay's Rebellion?"<br />"Why was it important?"<br /><br />They knew every. single. one.<br /><br />They got it! They understood the history behind the lesson. And they knew it well! I was thrilled. And then, to top it all off, my biggest fan little girl ran up to me after class and said, "Are you gonna be our teacher for the whole term?!" When I told her I'm just teaching her class for this week, she let out a big, sad groan and said, "No! Teach us all the time!"<br /><br />I almost cried again. Not really, but it would have been appropriate.</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535558970767705202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8gyGYfZgEg3SHef_G7YtAOL-cTmTH8Wm_61P0fx7pnmuIzuvPDul6FR8wRTxdiVhXKVn2sIvRVrxGbpf6aD6HfsYjHMH9drBM0KSD3MwKHNuSqCJud_zY6x53nczRWhPVqDApYU6rl_M/s320/13-things-teacher-wont-tell-you-13-af.jpg" border="0" /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-12303135726755993922010-10-26T08:11:00.000-07:002010-10-26T08:24:32.896-07:00...all i can do is keep breathing....Ingrid's words have never felt more appropriate. Yes, it's been awhile. Yes, I'm sorry. Yes, all those fears and anxieties I wrote about two months ago are coming true. Both the good and the bad. sfjaoiwjdef!<br /><br />To say life is busy is an understatement. I frantically run from class to work to classroom observations to work to class to home where I pull out my computer and do my homeworks until the wee hours of the morning. Monday through Thursday I generally get about 3-4 hours of sleep and then try to catch up on the weekends, except I have to go back to work and the cursed homework that just won't let me be. And sometimes I just want to scream AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />And then I remember something really great. Something amazing. Ready? This is the last of it. This is the end. And I'm going out strong. And sometimes it sucks. But in the end, it will ALL be worth it. Do you want to know why? Because come January 1st, I'm moving to<br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>WASHINGTON D.C.!!!!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#ff0000;"></span></strong> </div><div align="left"><span style="color:#000000;">Yep, I know. Worth it, right? I'm SO excited! We finally had a meeting last week where they told us that we will all be accepted to do our student teaching in the nation's capital. Really? I get to teach American history in the heart of America? Yes please. </span></div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">So in those moments when I'm stressed out of my mind and my eyeballs feel like they're going to explode from lack of sleep, I just have to remember that it will all be worth it. And then I find my motivation again. </div><div align="center"> </div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-40249223923661155812010-08-31T14:17:00.001-07:002010-08-31T14:53:19.044-07:00The Home Stretch...Well, let's set the record straight. The rumors are true. My last semester on BYU campus has commenced. I've been to almost every class once and have started mapping out what this semester is going to look like. As it turns out, I'm having some emotions about it. So, without further ado and in no particular order, here they are:<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc0000;">Anxiety</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">about writing a 25-page research paper for my History 490 class (Senior thesis...ugh...). I'm sure I'll probably be complaining about this throughout the course of the semester so allow me to apologize in advance. Sorry. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#993399;">Hesitation</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">about having the same teacher for two really hard history classes. With just one class, I can sometimes fool them. With two right in a row, he's bound to figure out I don't know how to write a research paper.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#3333ff;">Excitement</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">that I get to study a lot about Italy this semester. Right now all I know is Venice and Pizza. This may lead to a mandatory educational journey to that beautiful land sometime soon to <em>really</em> make sure I've got it all down...<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#009900;">Anticipation</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">for the day I get to start teaching in a real classroom. We begin our practicum in 6 weeks (observing and teaching in a classroom setting) to prepare us for our student teaching which is only FOUR SHORT MONTHS AWAY! Seriously, in preparation for our practicum our teacher today was discussing why history matters and how we can show that to our students and my heart just started pounding with excitement. I'm scared, but I really can't wait!<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#cc33cc;">Nervous Joy</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">at the thought of doing that student teaching in Washington D.C! I started filling out the application today and it's going to take a big leap of faith if it's what I really decide to do. But if I do...wow.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff6600;">Fear</span> <span style="font-size:85%;">when I think about how I'm going to be able to find the time to observe SEVENTY-FIVE HOURS in a classroom with ESL students (while also taking 19 credit hours and working 20 hours a week).<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">This last one might be the most surprising of all...<br /></span><br /><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Sadness</span> </span><span style="font-size:85%;">that it's ending and <span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;">Gratitude</span> that it happened. You'd think after 6 years of FULL-TIME school here (not counting the mission) I'd be ready to leave. Truthfully, parts of me are but I was looking today through a bunch of classes that I still really want to take that I'll never be able to. I've had access to hundreds of amazing classes taught by masters in the subject area. Even after the amazing experiences I've had, I still feel like I've missed out on so many more fascinating classes I could have taken. Weird? Yes. Unexpected? Yes.</span><br /><br />So there you have it. I can honestly say that my outlook on this semester has made me both more EXCITED and more TERRIFIED than any that have come before.<br /><br />Bring it on.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-64801120628722808882010-07-11T14:56:00.000-07:002010-07-11T19:12:40.564-07:00Flying High<div align="center"> <span style="color:#000000;">1 airplane + 1 parachute + 1 instructor + 13,000 feet = The best, most exhilarating experience of my life!</span> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><span style="color:#000000;">On Saturday at noon I jumped out of a plane for my very first (but hopefully not last) time and it was </span></div><div align="center"><br /> </div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;color:#ff0000;"><strong>AWESOME!!!</strong></span><br /></div><p align="center">I might use that word a lot in this post but it's hard to find another to adequately describe how it felt. I suppose the best way to explain it would be through pictures. I have added a few visual aids for your enjoyment (I had to pay the big bucks for these pictures so I better put them to good use). Please do not feel guilty for laughing when you see how gomer-ish we looked. I think they dress us like that for their own entertainment value. Can't say I blame them. We laughed. A lot.<br /></p><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492772762361211362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6ofQ23YaBf7YwIeLxW6aF4mEigHxEcI5FELrgDEuBwCQLX9d2Fjl8Xx0ddRBseonD2Pu_tlF04DNohKGS7OfCZeBDfKlhXoIvs-AK5raWAr_aW4LnKyidvgEOVek7xKQR2uT1gchnadM/s320/SL372414.JPG" border="0" /> </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><em>Gettin' all suited up. The jumpsuit was almost the greatest part second only to...</em><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492773509084390162" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYye5Gjo-gMAa2A8YCtAMPi7CVV36KkWvXz0Zjyh2Zh-FYKMrr03KQofG634lrAFQbXdCU1iTpLXOGxM3ZYoAzzaT0PrvC6jkvq-ZjYRsRbXr1R_WUcsDocuoPrVBYukTR46oSm9DvbUQ/s320/SL372422.JPG" border="0" /> <em>...these super awesome coneheads we got to wear. Mine matched my jumpsuit. </em><em>Very retro. Very cool. </em><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492778102118395266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG2YaoPXS_hF10WKXsjqBF7oHTny-4E3QsQjQglPffMK9ysw4A4pugZQvWS0Xpwf6qq46ZJAsvzXfYDjxI85YOXpiyFI1coUpJ4sduJZH1gaqgrmlZ9v4LV-q7WRRUsC9bOFVZyIFh4Yk/s320/SL372420.JPG" border="0" /> </div><div align="center"><em>Almost the whole crew that went. From left to right Alex Jepsen, McKinley something, Jake Later, me, Steve Middleton, Robbie Irion, Richard something, Chantyl, Chalice, and Rachael (This picture is missing Courtney, Kristin, and Chantyl's brother....Josh...?)</em></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492773481125166370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwNTzg98PSPosf4_i8n3_duyN-0QIujjMdjTpKp4lQWieBLYjfmJjXURmXfBEp04aHwFuBLI3VTP6qiMYAdkt_DIZ0v5A3yqylSqYGvW-0EeOzC9CpPX6HvUIcCPeH4jydywqoZUsV6o/s320/SL372421.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><em>Our plane: Chalice, Chantyl, me, Richard and Rachael. Before the big drop. </em><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492773472508596050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2um6cOQIEt71PWrXYmLx_z9vWSPZbV5LJkuyIJCnPKGVTZUBQt0dv9g-HWjJV8gjfiNZiyNOHw3aL4ZBKG0CjzJBmybUcd_fZ7UfFdl_gY4fjjc1IE9Ap6BSI1pQQXmMCLZpJVZ2lazI/s320/SL372424.JPG" border="0" /> </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><em>Our best terrified faces...or excruciating pain faces in Alex's case. At this point the terror was just pretend. We were tough. </em></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492831946129323954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQdZE9xIe-sMzRnxSCRX5u6CaAqC13UDA-1dNcVrnVAIIPikYOsemOUqFzYHSWs7nPS8IPnRPKDySvBIPIIUgR_KekOjzjjFYlRkP-zfcRy3vKTl6hlQDKtMRidJ1cYhDaxa4JaAYZXQM/s320/SL372425.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> <em>Are you ready yet?</em><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492826442086708930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6TeqStBJxkFZV2gA0XzIbNILpXLZSf5ZRcHb-ySp_rEdaqU8udb6SeYqOYeyhVWRjkDfjhe3pr05wd-Z28VgWuirraLGWekXgnJuxB3ebIM-kutbginJMzkqqRUO83iS_m5wSkiTrQIM/s320/IMG_1527.JPG" border="0" /><br /><em>In the plane! </em><em>This expression is 100% genuine "Holy-crap-what-the-heck-am-I-doing?!?!?!"</em> </p><br /><p align="center"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492774895899286770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdTj6_imPfihOuQUNgOHNbEQh_RVU-Dp6j2I5C5LGRekOXAMRSUvt9NtFL3vkFjsjJmYcQGpFtWnFVEP6raVuaj59xN9sLoVjRMyNx9ZEgUdHiZfR3DL5G2cjbUqjiobkvxgL-V0ksj8/s320/IMG_1539.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div align="center"><em>My first view of what they were telling me to jump into. It was right about here that the panic started setting in. </em><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492774904034205762" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguRnYEvSOtyaGpglgMZLIr3XXm6t5VaWFR0xfZqFwqQriz6ufWnUMLreZFJVGRLKFA2z7KHMv1SxrL4WvO8kPBY2hWfr5Y4d6FZkbU8cuv4ZF_ni-dmu1r5f1jHCEj2hBrpMnEMZ9sT9I/s320/IMG_1542.JPG" border="0" /> </div><br /><div align="center"><em>Falling out. Panic. Terror. Excitement. Adrenaline. Ahhhhhhhhh!</em></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492774915350335938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRh-Ra_Ol18MrWGtUnuvBDBUSdMzTSVCxq5sASuzs-graTnW4lzSV9XHb3au25I8_P-KNJujXIFt_e0RuykcuPA2DKiXcVzUDm7yYjHTEZv2nf8AJl67-jYkX6e7GWHUvNmMQ9cOrZOls/s320/IMG_1543.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div align="center"><em>There is no possible way to know what this moment feels like until you experience it. </em><em>Sheer terror. </em><br /><br /></div><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492774927300295826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSCRjFyem4FEMBjTBYQcZzhq779hXG4G5C-sItyX7wzJcR-PGDPMBVlJOXcXwYALPgwJvimSWrG-ENsYO4B05tSZrH1PiJY6t__RBtYpgJRHmae7j89JrNLWyR7XSbLwD4rh0pNKhpsvE/s320/IMG_1544.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div align="center"><em>Flipping.... </em></div><div align="center"><em><br /></em><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492834766610131410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsRPY5637jl-3TRk2g-7cliwsk6BMdRwd9qw1x_u0HSY4Zquhnw-J4Mn-Zwhw32i5EKbm3WkiDP-p4r7zs4uaBzQQx8DA0iqQsX9yso4ePLlRQBNncDiVUJyAwjFHIs0wrmgZN77FiwNY/s320/IMG_1545.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center"><em>Falling...</em> </p><p align="center"><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492833905556665410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4F0EFRBOxmi2IX3HeUFUL67ol1NQiWdQc9_oe2ggaEqkkD5eecRYdz98X_rQhd1Cr0OBpjoxT8DFYVos7LFJhumyEjtyGMR4m7YtVTDmJvkx3fSzmqtF0BBNeLCQyh35R2bMBRmV3SIo/s320/IMG_1546.JPG" border="0" /><br /><em>Diving....</em><br /></p><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492776072084909666" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvWxMh7L7s6mrF-KU56IHLjNlAPZuppxyJeGLCpaH1voB4hKlibll0JpBRDK_jCApO3kuSnAHgCO4tGO7CypLoW01xviYMjXVFMBIsPKfaiADvUGAUziectLYM66ihPdP1gA4dIz-lO1s/s320/IMG_1547.JPG" border="0" /> <em>FLYING!!!</em><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJ8SVT0VIVGIfu9PTL-pmQQvGyL2qe5BAdcb5qbXgZRNxTVijGwOcBZy3CC9upPOkYV8qZwwwY48LH6GMVJbKmKqm4foaJYYJv47akmV5AtFe-d1XpeJS_zH2x8W2QdNmzJGNlkeSdmg/s1600/IMG_1580.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492777143759948962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglJ8SVT0VIVGIfu9PTL-pmQQvGyL2qe5BAdcb5qbXgZRNxTVijGwOcBZy3CC9upPOkYV8qZwwwY48LH6GMVJbKmKqm4foaJYYJv47akmV5AtFe-d1XpeJS_zH2x8W2QdNmzJGNlkeSdmg/s320/IMG_1580.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em>Unbelievable feeling</em></div><br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492776076747395570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDKSHQzQjCQnAataNouFjFAigRzG_5FCC4drziQ7cjBEK21g7VDcuxCbJ2W1INBJLEVtpPD6AIYUj1aXqEb3R2GNEMEJzPGZwzVtNjWb4NOr8CG9LReW516cH_0rRxWWjNKi2-Emqvz9E/s320/IMG_1558.JPG" border="0" /><em>All the fear was gone, replaced by pure joy</em></div><br /><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CYJLpifu-fz0uwemeyzS8fcybzC-fgj9F8-ijg3Y9zAEXIvu9MKcDpYHOyZXmUo_Z766mnLWc7f3rwin6Z6zvNGQO8vUSsz6XOM8P_iNHs4J7u7lIdI_kcnByeBjimZENSYHVT_Vp7U/s1600/IMG_1577.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492776094236533698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_CYJLpifu-fz0uwemeyzS8fcybzC-fgj9F8-ijg3Y9zAEXIvu9MKcDpYHOyZXmUo_Z766mnLWc7f3rwin6Z6zvNGQO8vUSsz6XOM8P_iNHs4J7u7lIdI_kcnByeBjimZENSYHVT_Vp7U/s320/IMG_1577.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em>WooooooooooooooooHooooooooooooo!!!<br /></em></div><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHb_O01Hhq56IYgyASbtGXD2cKR7gmQg1OD0KCnwB_1StOMktx4wOMz9ak8jEaEw08dEwUa3JFbf1VY8XtfY_lJGq9zeNYszMUUiAByeZmP4lnA1sA0bQeRan1_NG_grZj7jpajicmUSY/s1600/IMG_1574.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492776086000695426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHb_O01Hhq56IYgyASbtGXD2cKR7gmQg1OD0KCnwB_1StOMktx4wOMz9ak8jEaEw08dEwUa3JFbf1VY8XtfY_lJGq9zeNYszMUUiAByeZmP4lnA1sA0bQeRan1_NG_grZj7jpajicmUSY/s320/IMG_1574.JPG" border="0" /></a> <em>I wanted this part to last forever!</em><br /><br /><div><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492777149743231426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcNSo6adVU1Gb9_QwtYxVUEYd0uEp99b7JVFE6ZOVXLf7z4aWIs6xRC5uu3g1Qcd1bXXdMXW3oLxH513WRg0-jk66InzJCTDkfJLXewE2KvXtvXC5b0tqyRnOmAFp34XOO49xN_5OBABw/s320/IMG_1583.JPG" border="0" /> <em>That's us!</em> </div><div><br /><br /><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492777160147075250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCbk8vAF3BeZRLnniFgqJTVcrJU37cxh3IdphNkLJScyMKqnIY-6DF3Txg_7fgMLwkK03JvOhADwVeP3w9mquNPLk797pKoY8hL2_cCRmATr6gERgM8Gj-uRZ0234jqqDgKRTDADb6Cgk/s320/IMG_1591.JPG" border="0" /> <em>Coming in for a landing, pretty much just sat down right on this big gravel pit. </em></div><br /><br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492777168193078018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0tkUkEEb76qHr_2_k1bmDQa2Xa0Z0RWiFP06bV-XKrY_817liaTD0qas79bKpDG9tUU0cq1QSWZg4DsazNKop0ZocBchpD2WtFGDxJsEjkmzBbm2NifHK6ossrzOEG5WRJ6Nw9djcu-w/s320/SL372435.JPG" border="0" /> <em>I just kept screaming over and over, "That was AWESOME!!"</em><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492777176260850306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw-IDI0adajF6BhKuwNW1J8alkfmVqKAPIov3183AIVgBuzUnJC1dluPY5RA6hUbNPhJ8sZ8sK-cf03GerjqlYSg1dbfjB4PK8eE_-ecBN__JDrE25y3aj1mfGK_hzw6UamainxyufusU/s320/SL372436.JPG" border="0" /> <em>Quick pic after my jump before the boys went</em><br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492780940706911858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1PMdidieBVC_ZG5b5hilSdy1iOXBvptnwcABe0PrZaKY_aS3XX7JwH3Rr0RR6_amJ4nxQ_1hrnU9rwp5EL3fXbl7O3v4gVqESmXfuFlPF7J_I-ql-LVDuyKqCuALevhZ-C9EZ3jMaL0k/s320/SL372438.JPG" border="0" /> <em>Best day ever. </em><br /><br /><br />Let's go again. </div></div></div></div></div><br /></div>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-21960211377966076762010-07-11T14:54:00.000-07:002010-07-11T14:56:29.417-07:00What do you do when...you get 6,000 comments on your blog in Chinese? I am at a loss.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-79124439242977095302010-06-01T22:42:00.000-07:002010-06-03T07:45:38.088-07:00Let Freedom RingClasses=done<br /><br />Happiness=skyrocketed<br /><br />Why is it that when you don't <em>have</em> to read you suddenly have a HUGE desire to? I mean like lay in the hammock all day and read your life away? I am here to tell you that it's one of the greatest feelings in the world.<br /><br />Due to my spring term classes having come to an end, the past few days have found me with an abundant amount of free time and<br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;">I LOVE IT!!!!</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:180%;"></span><br /> </div><div align="left">I already started three books and am loving each of them.<br /></div><div align="left">Sunday afternoon was spent on a blanket on my front lawn with The Peacegiver.<br /></div><div align="left">Monday morning introduced me to the seventh Harry Potter (which I still have never read).<br /></div><div align="left">And today during my lunch break at work, I started Les Miserables. You'd think that the obsession I've had with the story since I was eight years old would have led me to read it before now but surprisingly it's never happened. However, let me say that it jumps right into grabbing your emotions from the start. It's slightly embarrassing to sit in a fairly empty campus food court BY YOURSELF with a book and have to wipe your eyes because you can't see through your tears. Ahhhh....such a good story.</div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left">So on that note, there are a lot of books on my summer reading list. I know I probably won't get to all the ones I want, but these are some of my top choices for the next few months. </div><ul><li><div align="left">Three Cups of Tea</div></li><li><div align="left">The Book Thief</div></li><li><div align="left">Hunger Games</div></li><li><div align="left">Catching Fire (the sequel)</div></li><li><div align="left">Rough Stone Rolling</div></li><li><div align="left">Kite Runner</div></li><li><div align="left">The Sweetness of the Bottom of the Pie</div></li><li><div align="left">The Great and Terrible Series</div></li><li><div align="left">Into Thin Air</div></li><li><div align="left">Undaunted Courage</div></li><li><div align="left">1776</div></li><li><div align="left">Killer Angels</div></li><li><div align="left">The Alchemist</div></li><li><div align="left">To Kill a Mockingbird</div></li><li><div align="left">A Tale of Two Cities</div></li><li><div align="left">The Power of One</div></li><li><div align="left">Mere Christianity</div></li><li><div align="left">The Life of Pi</div></li><li><div align="left">Uncle Tom's Cabin</div></li><li><div align="left">Man's Search for Meaning<br /></div></li></ul><p align="left">What about you? Any recommendations? What are some of your favorite reads?</p><p align="left"> </p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478555655544432882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVFOAaNh69_C_ijCEh6HICRXOfzjeb_2xBrIDI-PmHqFKdHUXFabwR4Z8U4WktP2hv8egcZFdUEAQNH0057Wpjix6Jl53VFBWixqhv5Alv2mceGpX73RX2B_fFDe83ZD0pflSS8b2weQ/s320/100_2073.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center"> </p>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-79336676398917830522010-05-05T20:21:00.000-07:002010-05-05T20:24:13.261-07:00Really?I like people. In fact, I really like people. But sometimes I just have to wonder. Like when I'm sitting at the library surrounded by dozens of empty desks and tables and then a stranger comes and sits right next to me. Literally right next to me, so that our chairs are touching. It's especially mind-boggling when that same person does it two days in a row.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-59793683327028275382010-04-13T18:10:00.001-07:002010-04-13T18:14:40.791-07:00Words of WisdomA friend of mine posted this on her facebook status and I liked it so much that I decided to share it with you. Enjoy.<br /><br />“Instead of studying for finals, what about just going to the Bahamas and catching some rays? Maybe you’ll flunk, but you might have flunked anyway; that’s my point.”<br /><br />— Jack HandyAngiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-46077926509308156382010-03-22T15:35:00.001-07:002010-03-22T16:25:42.682-07:00The problem with my brain...<div align="center">This is what happens when I try to write a 12-page paper for my history class:<br /></div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUeM8w4hIIss7LpxCGzhjJH5vf5m3OWHO5C2VV3-O6uqT9kLQm1_m0EmU50dl7gZ9a0eyfzAhAKy-kKQWxUxZMNr4AXq10qT3pF2p68VVEwVwj0R1C6QfpanUnA7H5OuDhvcU8tWIkWw/s1600-h/Thinking_42_tnb.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451590592432439858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoUeM8w4hIIss7LpxCGzhjJH5vf5m3OWHO5C2VV3-O6uqT9kLQm1_m0EmU50dl7gZ9a0eyfzAhAKy-kKQWxUxZMNr4AXq10qT3pF2p68VVEwVwj0R1C6QfpanUnA7H5OuDhvcU8tWIkWw/s320/Thinking_42_tnb.png" border="0" /></a></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center">This is what happens when I let my mind wander away from thinking about my 12-page paper and ponder on ideas of what I want to do with my life:<br /></div><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451590660341698082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 319px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 295px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvekdEGNwjLtyiDi-AKfJZGKKIC1nK9ZNmbsNTUz8Dc7Av241q8AK8KUl0TvbtAvZ7U8f0KUoDfKc2QW77tRXzRiMLYaLdm02zrHvpiie41MHx2mzCaDFW6iHKEqSXV25kOqT-yNZbpw/s320/Can't_stop_thinking_cartoon.gif" border="0" />Problematic? Perhaps. </p><p>Every once in awhile I get inspired with an insane amount of things I decide I have to do. Coincidentally, this usually tends to occur right about when I'm supposed to be focusing on something else (say for example....homework....?). It's when I get my best ideas about the path my life is taking. Let me fill you in on what the past two days of the attempt (and avoidance) of writing this paper has brought into my mind. Here is my <span style="font-size:78%;">(tentative) </span>three-year plan:</p><ul><li>Stick it out in Provo until December. This will be the longest I have stayed in one place since I was in high school. It's a big deal. I'm planning on having my first summer in Provo which I've heard is a party. I personally feel dedicated to making that rumor true and already have several ideas in the works <span style="font-size:78%;">(while also working a lot a lot and making money I promise Dad!)</span></li></ul><p><span style="font-size:78%;"></span></p><ul><li>Begin my student teaching in January, but not just anywhere. No no, not just anywhere. In the city I've been dying to travel to for the last five years of my life....drumroll please......Washington D.C! It will be fabulous. BYU has an option giving teaching majors an alternative to student teaching in the too-highly-saturated-teaching-field-of-Provo. You can opt instead to teach in D.C. or Houston, Texas. With all due respect to all the Texans out there, I can't think of any other place I'd rather be than D.C. My plan is to stay until April when I will come home for.......</li></ul><p></p><ul><li>COLLEGE GRADUATION!!! I know, you thought it wasn't gonna happen right? Sometimes I wondered myself if this seemingly eternal schooling would ever end. But there is a light at the end of my 8-year tunnel. Faint, still distant, but it's there. In April 2011 I will officially be a college graduate in History Teaching with a TESOL minor. </li></ul><p></p><ul><li>Next, (this is the new exciting part which I may have forgotten to mention to my family just yet) I'm hoping to be a part of HELP International. It's this awesome humanitarian group that I've been learning a lot about lately. They have programs in six different countries and their projects are really beneficial to the communities they serve. I could tell you all about everything I've been learning but it might just be easier (and more eye-pleasing) to check out the details for yourself <a href="http://www.help-international.org/">http://www.help-international.org/</a></li></ul><p></p><ul><li>After I get home from wherever I end up going during that summer, I will need to start making money, being a college grad and all with student loans to pay back. But here's what I'm thinking just to mix things up a little. I will start teaching as planned. However, not history just yet, but English! (as a second language). I've been learning lately of a lot of really cool programs overseas where governments will pay for your flight, housing, PLUS pay you monthly wage to come teach English in public schools. So I'd still get to teach the age that I love if I can find a job in a secondary school somewhere. And I figure, I'm still using my college education since TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) is my minor. I don't really know how long I'd stay, maybe a five or six months, maybe a year. It just depends on what happens between now and then. </li></ul><p></p><ul><li>Finally, after returning home from this golden opportunity, I will dive into teaching my favorite subject: history. Who knows where. Somewhere exciting though. But still in the states because U.S. History is my favorite and I don't see a lot of international opportunities to teach it. </li></ul><p>So there you have it. That's the tentative plan. I realize that it sounds crazy, I'm not so naive as to think that I can pull it all off easy-peasy. I also realize that what I want could easily change with each new day I have. But I have a pretty strong will (some might call it stubborn), and I know that if life continues to lead me in the direction I'm going now, this is all possible. </p><p>And that is exciting. </p><p>And if somehow life leads me down a different path that is even better, well, that is even more exciting. </p>Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3748436800236528519.post-45007816551801193892010-02-23T22:22:00.000-08:002010-02-23T22:35:22.719-08:00Why?It's 11:22 pm. I am at the library. I have a list as big as China of stuff I have to get done before Thursday morning at 11:00 so I can go to Disneyland. And I CAN'T MAKE MYSELF WORK ANYMORE!<br /><br />Nevermind the seven page research paper I have to write. Nevermind the two ugly midterms I have to study for. Nevermind the technology teacher tests I have to take. Here I sit. Blogging.<br /><br />Is there something wrong with me?<br /><br />This must be why people shouldn't take 8 years to get through college.Angiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09900033822728234152noreply@blogger.com2