A Year To Live

I've been thinking about this upcoming year for a while now. Mom and Dad have left for Orlando and it's just me in the house, so I've had a lot of time to just sit here and think about things. Life, love, the future, the usual.

But the more I think about leaving for Germany the harder my heart beats and I become tense and anxious. The one image I have in my head is of just me, walking out of my hostle I'm staying at, and having to navigate the city by myself. Walking around, by myself. Being in a new city and having this wonderful experience at my fingertips. New places, new opportunities...

I have one resolution this year, and I'm happy to say that in the past I've been able to complete most of my resolutions. This one is simple, but important: Live this next year as if it is your last.

Slightly morbid, but imagine what you would do if you only had a year to live. You'd take more chances, do things you've always wanted to do, never let opportunities pass you by just because you were scared of change or uncertainty.

What would you do if you had a year to live?

At the moment I have no idea, but I'll be more aware of my decisions and actions if I keep this in mind. I won't be scared of uncertainty, I won't walk away from good opportunties if they should present themselves. I won't wait for my life to start because I'm going to start it myself.

A year to live. Just one. Make it count.

Because It's Christmas

Because it's Christmas I go along with old traditions that I say I won't be doing with my own family some day, but realize that I'll keep nearly all of them anyway, out of habit.

Because it's Christmas I won't dwell on the fact that I'm no longer surprised by my gifts or the knowledge that the only ones I like were ones I had to ask for.

Because it's Christmas I'll try not to be sad when I think about how little my family knows me and realize it's my fault for that, not theirs.

Because it's Christmas I won't say how much I dislike the presents my sister and brother-in-law got me.

Because it's Christmas I'll try not to dwell on how much my family has become obsessed with Disney and how it's subsequently ruining things for me.

Because it's Christmas I'll call people I haven't talked to in a while and will feel much better for having done so.

Because it's Christmas I will go out of my way to make things easier for my Mom.

Because it's Christmas I am going to make sure that everyone is having a good time, even though I may be not.

Because it's Christmas I think about all my future Christmases and think about how different they will be.

Because it's Christmas I'm going to focus only on the good and ignore all the bad.

Because it's Christmas I'll smile for the camera and try to spend as much time as possible with my family, because I know I'll be gone for longer than they would like.

It's Christmas and I have no idea where I will be in a year, but I hope that wherever I am my family is with me, celebrating.

Tis the Season To Be Jolly

Christmas has felt a bit rushed and forced this year for me. As soon as I got home I started painting the living room, so the tree trimming was pushed off until a couple of days ago. Though I've made biscotti and chocolate chip cookies I have yet to roll out the sugar cookies (even though the dough has been 'firming' since Thursday). The stockings aren't hung with care (they are still in the basement), and the rest of the family is giving themselves paper cuts with all the last-minute wrapping.

If there's two things that my family loves though it's Christmas and Disney. The "Disneyfication" of my house during the Christmas season is everywhere. Prime example: instead of a train around the tree we have a monorail. Oh! And how can I forget the giant blowup "Santa Mickey" on the front lawn. Don't miss out on our Disney Christmas village or the Mickey and Donald nutcrackers on top of the tv. Also, the fact that our tree should be a holiday advert in a Disney catalog should not be overlooked.

Yeah, we're a tad obsessed.

But the most interesting (read: worst) part of the holiday season thus far was the 6 mile trip through Satan's asshole, aka Callaway Gardens. As a kid I loved the Fantasy in Lights show but then suddenly it wasn't so fun anymore. I can't pinpoint when I stopped looking forward to it, but it was around the same time they made the "one-time-through-only" rule. I remember I wanted to kiss whoever came up with that because Dad would always go through at least twice. This year my parents decided it would be wonderful to do the trip on the trolley instead of in the car. Talk about the threshold of hell: 40 degree weather on an open air trolley, excited kids, carol singing, and a creepy narration by guy and his horse Snowflake. You bet your ass I was listening to Daft Punk the entire time.

But I'm trying to make the best of everything and in all actually the holiday has gone pretty well. I convinced my Mom to eat Indian food with me, the living room looks great and the tree is merry, the house smells like oranges and cinnamon, and the amount of holiday movies on tv are hysterical and slightly overwhelming. I don't even care that I've gone to Church twice today (oh, Catholicism) and Mom accidently changed the channel to Kinky Kong instead of King Kong. My family is crazy but then again so am I. It's the holidays so we're allowed to want to kill each other.

The Great Paint and Picture Adventure

After three trips to Lowe's, three different shades of paint, and numerous headaches from the fumes I've finally finished painting the living room.

The first color was too light, the second color too greyish, and the third color just right (but only after much reassurance on my part to Dad). This room is constantly bathed in sunlight and we finally had to go for a color much darker than we would normally pick. It looks great though and the room is no longer this horrible mauve color but "holmes cream" (which is creamy looking but the rest is hard to describe).

So the rest of my day has been spent helping Mom make personalized calendars for both of my grandmas. I did this very same gift Christmas '03 and my family loved it. Dad got quiet and Cheryl and Mom teared up. It took me a while to do though, since I made each month a collage of photos instead of just one or two. Mom is going for the two-a-month job and let me tell you how trippy it is looking through old family photos.

First of all, I'm beginning to realize how absolutely gorgeous my mother was when she was my age. And weirdly enough my father was quite a looker himself. The photos of them in college are the ones that are most striking. Most of the photos of Mom with her college friends laughing and joking around, but I swear that when I look at them I see me with my friends instead. After looking at these I like to think I would have been friends with my Mom, had we been in college at the same time.

But the one that's the most interesting to me is with my parents in the classic "college-esque" pose. My Dad is holding the camera in one hand, his other arm around my Mom and both of them are leaning towards each other and smiling. How many times have I seen people do that at parties and downtown? More than I care to count. But here is my parents, thirty years ago, doing the exact same thing. It's mind boggling, really. I'm learning about these lives they lived before I came into the picture and it's fasinating.



Edit: I just found out that the above-mentioned photo was right after Dad proposed to Mom. "He wanted to remember it forever," she said, "No one else was there to take it." Wow.

Moving Out

My room is almost completely bare. The only things left are my furniture, but I'm leaving those for Juliana to use (the girl taking over my lease). I'll get my bed and such in May most likely, only to be taken back to my parent's house and slept in for a month and then off to summer job again.

It is so sad to see my room in such a blank state. I'm so glad I painted it, or else I would be crying right now. I'm just happy in the knowledge that the color will remain the same, at least for a while.

It's just so...empty. Two years went by very fast and this house holds a lot of great (no, fantastic) memories.

Sigh. I'm debating on leaving Athens tomorrow, though I have plenty of Going Away parties to attend.

I'm not very good at saying good bye. Actually I just don't like it and try to avoid it at all costs, even if it means leaving someone without a proper hug and farewell.

Military Commission Act (aka Goodbye Habeas Corpus)

The Military Commission Act was upheld. Holy shit.

I honestly didn't think it would. I mean, it's such a violation of the Bill of Rights that there was no way it would be okayed by Federal Courts.

But I was wrong. So very very wrong.

We're all going to hell for this. Our country is going to the shitter and no one seems to care about it.

Doesn't anyone understand what this means?! No more Habeus Corpus. No more rights to a fair or speedy trial for ANYONE, including U.S. CITIZENS.

I'm screaming inside, seriously.

For those of you who don't know what the fuck I'm talking about, go to these following sites:

The Military Commission Act itself

MSNBC's Olbermann: Beginning of the end of America

Amnesty International's Thoughts

Wikipedia.org on the Act (for all those lazy to look at legit sources)

Finding a Job, Every Senior's Worst Nightmare

At least, it's a nightmare if you're a liberal arts major.

At the moment my shining glory is coming in the form of a school in Belgium with a program that specifically helps novice teachers in their first year. I'm applying to two of the schools (within the school itself) and I sent in my first application today.

All in all it's an interesting experience, applying for jobs. Now that I'm looking for full time jobs upon graduation there's this air of...well, not desperation, but anxiousness surrounding the process. The more I learn about the school the more I love it, but of course I don't have the expierence international schools are looking for. This one is unique in that they hire first year teachers. If they didn't state that I most likely wouldn't try to apply.

But alas, I'm getting my hopes up. There are no vacancies open at the school, but I'm hoping I'll stand out enough to be put in a safe place for future consideration.



In other news, finals week has proven to be quite boring. I wrote one of my papers and have a final Thursday morning, and then this weekend I'm moving out of the house for good. I'm not looking forward to that last bit, since this place has been my home for two years.

God, I'm going to miss this place. Moving out is going to be hard.

Chile's Gen Pinochet dies at 91

Read the BBC article here.

I wasn't going to comment on the death of this man, but I don't have it in me to keep quiet about this. I can't help but think of Slobadon Miloseciv and his timely (or untimely?) death and the lack of justice that surrounded the loss of this man. I feel the same as I did then for Pinochet's death.

I won't say I'm happy he's dead and that such a man should have died a long time ago. I'm not going to say that, because death it's a thing to be celebrated. But at the same time I in no way feel sorry or saddened by this death. This death, to me, is only about justice.

When Pinochet overthrew a democratically elected man in 1973 and created an environment of fear and oppression he did two things: he "saved" a country from Marxism (in the eyes of many) but he oversaw some of the worst human rights violations the world has ever seen. During his 17 year rule over 3,000 individuals were killed or "disappeared" and never seen or heard from again.

Disappeared. Gone. I've read stories about this, heard accounts, watched videos of mothers crying and screaming for the return of their loved ones. How is it possible to be walking down the street one moment and then be gone the next? You tell your friends you're going out for a bit and then never return. It's those that were "disappeared", not just in Chile but in many Latin American countries, that haunt people to this day. The hope that people have for the return of a loved one...there's nothing like it. It will always remain until closure is given.

But regardless, I hope that Pinochet's death will help the country move toward peace and a reconciliation with the atrocities that have happened in the past years.

Yet how does a country get over something like that? Does it move on? Ignore the stories of torture, disappearances, murders? Or does it address what happened and then move on? Is it even possible? What kind of justice can there be if the man most blamed is gone?

Holiday Parties and German Social Studies

Yesterday's party was a surprising hit, mainly because the other parties we've had at the houses have gone downhill in one way or another. Run out of drinks, people we don't know show up, no one is really mingling, etc. But none of that happened last night and everyone had a great time.

Cam made the comment "your house is very friendly. This is the first party I've been to in a long time where people are talking to each other." I couldn't agree more-- people talked and got to know lots of others. I looked on a lot of my friend's facebook profiles and saw so many "added friends"! It's great to see new people meet and find out they have a lot in common. I love it. There's nothing than a house full of people drinking champagne and listening to holiday music.

This won't be the last Church St. get together though. We've got New Years coming up, and then the Farewell Party a couple of days before I leave for Germany.

And speaking of which, my coordinator emailed me back with the basic format for Social Studies at the school. 9th grade is a basic business class where they set up a mock business, 10th grade studies the migration and workings of the European Parliamentary systems, and 12th grade looks at Socio-Economic concepts and methods. There's a bunch of history thrown in there too (German, European, and World), but all the geography classes are in German so I won't be working with those.

So yes, I feel a little in over my head, but it's nothing I can't work through. I knew sooner or later I'd have to deal with econ, I just had no idea it would be European economics. I'll have more than one cooperating teacher, which is different than how most of my edu peers are doing it. I'm also going to be working with some english classes and I'm really excited about that.

I feel better knowing what I'm getting into and you better believe I'll be spending my winter break getting to know this material.

Researching Life

Because it's finals I'm doing anything but studying. Instead I'm researching schools, looking at certifications, and writing lots of emails.

Emails for said schools, emails for summer jobs, emails to Germany to figure out how my Spring term is going to run. I've been on this role since 4pm and if you were to walk past my room it would seem as if I was bed ridden: under the covers, tea mugs overturned, books strewn about...

The Kite Runner is currently open to chapter twelve and waiting for me. This book is so heartbreakingly sad and amazing that I couldn't fall asleep last night without reading more.

Anyway, I've found a school I am interested in. I've read the website backwards and forwards, even their annual finance report. I really like this school. God, please let this work out.

The Thing About My Folks

I love the way my mother clears her throat. It's been a constant source of comfort for me since I was little and even to this day when I hear it tension melts away from my shoulders. My mother's smell is also one of those things I will never forget and when she was in Oklahoma during Desert Storm (8 months, 3 days) I would spray her perfume on my pillow to calm my five-year-old self. I still love the fact that she's the first up in the morning, usually surrounded my papers and books, working endlessly on her classes. She is the most underappreciate, overworked, and hardworking woman I have ever met. Ever. My mother's work ethic would put anyone to shame. My mother is the third out of six and the most resilent out of everyone, following her older sister into the military in order to pay for her education in nursing. Her nickname at Girl Scout camp was Boots and she's now retired from the Army Reserves after serving 30 years. My mother taught me everything I know about raising a family and preparing the best batch of pancakes. She loves math and would always tell me "it's a game" but I unfortunately never caught on. On Mother's Day while in high school she tried to show me how to play golf and I hit her on her hairline with a golfclub on a back-swing, creating a small gash that bled more than anything I've ever seen. It is the hardest I've ever cried in my entire life. My mother loves the mountains and I think she wishes she still lived in Indiana. She is warm and caring and gives the best hugs. She also always makes sure the house is locked up and ovens off before we leave the house, even if it means driving back to check.


When my father laughs he turns bright red and I think he's going to die from lack of oxygen. It's rare to see him laugh that hard, but when he does you can't help but laugh with him. One of these occassions centered around me asking him to buy a 10lb bag on onions for a school fundraiser and the other was a Dirk Diggler comment that made him laugh so hard the whole family was shocked. He is one of the most determined men I know and has always had strong family values. He wanted to make sure he provided for his family and children in the way his own parents did not and I can say that he officially completed this feat at the age of 50 when he retired from the work force for good. He went to four different colleges and universities for various reasons and at one point only had his books to keep him company. I think this is why my dad isn't the "social butterfly" the three women in his life are, but he's gotten used to it. My father is also one of the most stubborn men I know, an issue that gets in the way of our conversations from time to time. My father is a builder and I would always help him on his projects, though most of the time I couldn't keep up with his engineering mind. He has a strong fondness for anything Christmas and anything Disney. He uses idioms more than a normal person should and at his funeral I will give the eulogy and say "At least it wasn't a poke in the eye with a sharp stick." My father intimidates most of my friends but, like my mother, gives the best hugs and always says "I love you" at the end of a phone conversation.


My parents met in high school. My father was the football manager and my mother in the marching band. Two nerds who met in honors classes became two married nerds who like to go to museums and historic stops along the highway. They have been married for other 30 years and when I asked them what that was like my father answered "comforting." My father is great with computers, something my mother has not caught up with. It is my father who constantly raves about my mother's work ethic and I know that without her he wouldn't be half the man he is today. They both built their first house in Indiana and now that my sister and I are out of the house are much happier and take more trips together. They have the oddest sleeping pattern I have ever seen-- my mother going to sleep at 11pm and waking up at 5am, my father going to sleep at 5am and waking up at 11am. My parents complete each other very well and have great dreams of being doting grandparents. It is impossible to spring something up on them and expect to get away with it-- they are people that deliberate, think, and deliberate some more when it comes to a big decision (like letting the youngest daughter live in Germany for four months). My parents are weird, crazy, and I couldn't ask for a better pair to watch over me.