Some Chickens That I Used to Know

On this farm, there are chickens.  Most of my experience with chicken, thus far, comes in the form of, well, the fried type.  Never have I been near a live chicken and for good reason.

I learned within the first few days that I’m terrified of birds.  I’ve never really had to deal with any that were alive, so that inexperience turns into fear as I plop food down in their bowl and they crowd around me. 

We have chickens of all ages here, but the feisty ones are right in the middle – similar to humans, I suppose.  Hannah and I have learned that it’s all really about timing when you’re feeding them.  It’s very important to bang on the door or to have the other person hold the food bowl at the other end of the cage so that one person can go in without letting them all out.  This we learned through experience.  I once opened the door and two of them hopped right out of the cage.  Cool, we had to chase them around the goat pen and catch them – with our hands.  Terrifying.

The root of the fear is this: I just don’t know what the appropriate form of punishment is if one of them pecks me.  With a dog, bop it on the nose; with a chicken…ring it’s neck?  No.  There’s nothing.  I feel defenseless, and so I’m scared. 

 Since the discovery of my fear, Hannah has been pushing me to spend more time with them, which I do begrudgingly.  I’m getting better though I would not say that the fear is conquered. 

Chickens are scary.  They are unpredictable and there is very little you can do about it if they choose to peck you – aside from running out of the pen, which is always an option.  That sounds a bit like life.  You never know when it’s going to peck you, and there simply isn’t a form to retaliate against it when it does, so sometimes you go and nurse your wounds, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have to get back in there and feed it again tomorrow.  You can always choose to run out of the pen, but you’re going to have to go back in eventually, and the chickens are still going to be there, squawking at you more loudly than before. 

Being on this farm has been really good for me.  Dealing with these chickens has shown me how to deal with life, and I have learned to appreciate the experience despite the agony with which I hear, “Kirby, can you go check on the chickens again?”     

Really?  Again.  Y así es la vida.

Shortly after writing this blog, I had my first contact with chicken mites - tiny little critters that get on your skin and crawl around and drive you absolutely nuts.  Simply another reason to stay away from chickens.  Amen.

On Staying in a Hostel

Before I start this blog, I want to introduce “my friend” who is with me here.  She insists on me using her name rather than continuing to hide her identity.  This is Hannah.  She’s been one of my best friends ever since I can remember, and she’s primarily to blame for me being in Germany right now.  I’m encouraging her to do a guest blog for me, but as of yet, she isn’t up to the challenge. 

That being said, last weekend, I had to stay in a hostel. 

I say had to, but that isn’t entirely true.  I had other options, but I came on this trip to be independent, so despite the fact that I was somewhat of a nervous wreck about it, I took the plunge and booked a hostel.

At dinner on Thursday, we had several guests, one of which was an American girl – who happened to live in Tennessee, as well…small world – who told us about a nice hostel in Munich.  Hannah and I had been discussing this as my option for the weekend, but I couldn’t get a booking, so I had to search for a new hostel on my own.  Most of them were booked, so I found one with somewhat lower ratings, but I gave it a shot.

I left the farm on Friday and was dropped off at the infamous Pfaffenhausen station – infamous because we have never actually made it there despite it being our destination every Sunday thus far.  I arrived in Munich and headed to my stop.  I knew that I couldn’t check in for a couple of hours, so I took my time wandering around the area to get my bearings.  Eventually, I checked in and put my luggage in the “luggage room” – read: room where everyone freely puts their stuff, not securely by any means – and headed out.  After walking around a bit, I made my way up to my room.  Having no roommates as of yet, I took the opportunity to have a nap only to be awoken by house keeping, gladly, I might add, since the room was kind of a mess. 

Later, I continued my nap and awoke to find two new faces in the room of six beds.  I had already made plans for the night, so I headed out to meet two of my friends.  When I arrived at the hostel early the next morning, all the beds were full – or so I thought – so I knew was in for some introductions when I woke up.  Later in the evening and finally having met everyone, I was comfortable staying there.  I had my own locker where I could keep my valuables, and I felt safe in the room despite not knowing the five other people with whom I was sharing it. 

After sleeping for quite some time and spending some much-needed alone time at the river, I headed back to the hostel.  Two of the roommates were in the room when I arrived, and they asked me to join them for dinner.  A man from India who was living in France, a woman from the U.K. who had been traveling Europe for 2 months, and I headed out to dinner.  I could only laugh at the funny situation – and at the sound of my mother’s worried voice in the back of my head.  We ended the night quite calmly on the roof of the hostel just chatting, joined by two of our other roommates. 

Overall, my first hostel experience was a good one.  While it wasn’t what I expected, I learned a few things that I think will help me the next time around:

1.  Everyone is nervous.  Hostel life isn’t exactly natural, so someone has to break down the barriers and start the initial conversations.  While it is a bit intimidating, cool people stay at hostels, and you will only meet them if you talk to them.

2.  Cleanliness is not next to godliness.  Let’s be real, the hostel wasn’t the cleanest place I’d ever been, but it also wasn’t the dirtiest.  Did I know how many people had slept on the sheets before me?  No, but I was paying a very small amount of money to stay two nights, and I survived.  When traveling, it’s best not to be too picky.

3.  People are very different.  Every time someone travels, it gives the opportunity to get outside of the normal comfort zone.  Is it sometimes uncomfortable?  Yes, but it’s in these uncomfortable times that you learn about yourself and about others and how to accept them.  My discussions this weekend ranged from the importance of graduation parties to drug use in Europe.  While I couldn’t always contribute much to the discussion, I was happy to listen to another point of view and to develop community with people that I may never have spoken to otherwise.

When I was sitting on that roof with four of my five roommates, I felt like I belonged to something.  While we didn’t make up a secret handshake and I’ll probably never see any of them again, there was a feeling of community there that I haven’t experienced here yet.  It was something organic and freeing, something that my trip had been missing. 

So, I’m glad that I did it.  I’m glad that I’ve stayed in a hostel.  Initially, I was - ok I’ll say it - I was scared.  But, now that it’s over, it’s something that I learned from and really enjoyed, and it’s likely something that I’ll do again – sorry, Mom. 

Introspection Numero Uno: On Parenting

Don’t get ahead of me.  I’m not, nor am I soon to be, a parent. 

As a child though, I definitely think that I have an interesting perspective on parenting, and, as mentioned before, I’ve had a lot of time to reflect on the impact my parents have made on me.  Hearing my friend’s own stories and listening to my responses to her questions has only made me realize more how much I’m like my parents.  That’s a scary thing to admit.

As a child (teenager), you spend your days thinking how much better of a parent you could be than the ones that you have.  You dream of the ways that you will be different and list the multitude of ways in which you are ‘unlike’ your own. 

When you become a ‘young adult,’ you tend to stop all that.  New freedoms allow you to be the person that you really are.  As I’ve begun to really discover that person, I hear myself speak sometimes and look around for my parents.  When I realize that they aren’t there, I begrudgingly come to the conclusion that I’m just like them. 

As I told my friend about my family, I recognized a lot of things that I’m proud of – naturally accompanied by some things that I’m not.  It’s the positive aspects that I’ve gained, however, that are my focus.  Here we go:

1.  Perseverance – My parents have had to deal with a lot.  While I won’t publish the details of every scenario, I have come to recognize just how true this is over the past week.  Not once have I seen my parents give up nor have they allowed me to do so.  When I was young, Mom thought that I was destined to become some famous public speaker.  As a result, she put me in just about every speech competition she could find.  I would write out my speech, we would go over it together, and then she would make me stand in the living room in front of her and read it.  While it was expected that I would practice it once or twice, I always dreaded the end and hearing those words come out of her mouth: “Do it again.”  The example seems trivial when writing, but I learned to persevere through that terrible speech about Tigers, not because my mom genuinely wanted to hear it again but because it made me better.  I got trophies out of the deal, and I finally appreciate it: the ability to get through something not so fun to achieve something better.        

2.  Resilience – My parents roll with the punches.  From being laid off, to facing trying family circumstances, to listening to my crazy ideas about life, my parents go with the flow.  Thankfully, I have inherited this ability, and it really has contributed to my current state of being.  I can remember being a child and stressing out about every detail of life.  As I recently wrote, my parents always let me know that “Things always work out.”  I’m thankful that I got this from them. 

3.  Selflessness – I’ve watched my parents give up everything for me.  From working overtime to simply going without, my parents have sacrificed from the very beginning so that I can have whatever it is that I want.  Not once in my life have I felt that I lacked anything, and its because of their selfless nature.  In my relationships, I have noticed that I go all out for those whom I love.  Few times have a denied a friend in need my time or money.  This quality is not mine, however, it came straight out of my parents.

4.  Comedy – All of my friends at college are Facebook friends with my mom.  Why, you ask?  Because they find her hysterical.  As her child, I tend not to, but they tell me that she’s hilarious.  My dad has this ‘something’ that attracts people to him.  I’ve seen this quality travel straight down the line from my grandmother – who knew every person in town and comforted them through grieving – to my father and, finally, to me.  Everyone says it, but we really should have a T.V. show.  Although a lot of the humor is unintentional and is usually lost on most people, it makes for entertaining gatherings.  For example, my sister recently announced that she is having a baby.  She did this using cookies that said, “I’m pregnant” that she gave to family members for Mother’s Day.  Upon opening my mom’s cookie and reading the statement, she responded, “I’m not pregnant!”  Exhibit A.        

5.  Joy – My parents are happy people.  Having dealt with a lot of difficult circumstances, my parents radiate joy.  People tend to love them, and it’s because their very presence is able to cheer them up.  I hope that throughout my life, this is one of the qualities that I hold on to.  Being joyful is hard sometimes, but somehow they manage to do it daily.  I like to think that I’m this way too. 

It’s when you remove yourself that you really appreciate what you have.  Today, I appreciate my parents.  More than they will ever know.  

On Contentment

The last year of my life has, without a doubt, been crazy.

I think I have traveled so much and never stopped moving because I have never found a place of contentment.

All of that changed this semester.  At the end of it, I was completely happy at school, with my friends, absolutely loving the life that God had given me.  Then, it was ripped out from under me as Christmas break arrived.

I went home, not really sure what to expect.  My family and friends there, however, made it the absolute best time I have ever had in Lexington.  With long nights, rekindled friendships, new acquaintances, the return of my very best friend, and some surprise visitors, I loved being at home.  That, too, was ripped out from under me by Costa Rica.

Ever time I have traveled, I have been so eager to leave, to explore, to find something new.  This time, I had everything that I wanted, but I couldn't stay.

That led me to the understanding that contentment should never be based on your surroundings, but rather that it is something internal, independent of external circumstances.

I asked myself, "What is it exactly that I am seeking to be content with?"

The obvious answer was, "My life."

Which led to the next question"  "Of what is my life composed?"

Some deep thinking has enabled me to see that my life travels with me.  It's the memories that I have, the beliefs I posses, the chances that I take, and the relationships that I form.

I have a life at school, one at home, one here in Costa Rica.  I had one in Jordan; I had one in Mexico, in D.C., at camp.  And the important thing is that I was content with each one in that time.

I have found most of all that my life travels with me, and with that, I am very content.

On Running Away

The following blog post was written on August 7, 2011:

A chapter of this blog is in the process of closing.  Although there are some stories yet to come, my time in Jordan has ended.  Undoubtedly, this is a period of my life that I will never forget.  On the flip side, it’s a period of my life of which I didn’t take full advantage, and I’m sad to say that it took until my last day here to realize it. 

Prior to leaving for Amman, I was struggling physically, emotionally, spiritually.  I looked to my time in Jordan as a sort of release, a period where I could flesh these things out away from family, away from friends.  I looked at it as a time where I would uncover a lot of things about myself.  To be cliché, I wanted to use the time to find myself. 

Looking back over the trip, some of this was accomplished and some of it was not.  Did I utilize my trip as a release?  Yes.  But not a release in which I revealed deep-rooted truths.  Instead, I used it as a time in which I could tuck and run from the problems that were facing me.  With the time difference, the lack of internet, the new faces, the new challenges, this was all very easy to do.  In fact, I often forgot that certain problems existed at all.  Goal accomplished?  NO.

Tomorrow, I’ll be returning home, and I’m interested to see how things go.  Will my struggles be awaiting me at the airport with open arms or will they too have taken a sweet vacation?  Guess I’ll just have to wait and see.

I tell you all of this not in order to be dramatic, not to seem like I didn’t enjoy Jordan, but to warn you so that you don’t lose time.  I’m well aware that I’m going to face the same old issues at some point, probably sooner rather than later.  I only wish that I could have dealt with them here and not there. 

It’s time to stop running.  There is no where else to go.  America, I’m coming home.  Ready or not.  

A Lesson In Cross-Cultural Communication

Having been immersed in a culture where very few people speak my language, I have been able to observe so many important lessons in the art of cross-cultural communication.

When two people speak different languages, all you have to rely on is what little you hold in common, accompanied by intermittent gestures.

A couple of lessons:

Listen!  This might be one of the most important things that a person can do, and it's probably the most difficult.  The natural reaction - at least for Americans - is to keep talking, to fill the void of silence.  What we often don't understand is that all this talking does is jumble things up for both speakers.  Furthermore, this can lead to putting words in someone else's mouth, preventing communication.  Take time to listen.  Listen well.  This will make everything smoother.

Empathize.  One of the things that has helped me is to put myself in that person's shoes.  Think about history, about backgrounds, about linguistic influences, and then use those to interpret messages.  For example, Arabic doesn't contain the letter "p."  Knowing this, it's easy for me to interpret when a speaker says "beoble," that he is, in fact, saying "people."  Another example, I was at a cafe the other day, and I asked the man for hummus or bread, or anything to eat.  He said that he didn't have anything, and then he proceeded to continue the conversation in Arabic.  Knowing literally nothing that he was saying, I thought about how giving the Arabic people are, and I was able to surmise that he was asking me if I wanted him to walk down the street to get me food.  A little application of cultural knowledge can give way to linguistic understanding.

Recognize Patterns.  Much like empathizing, certain patterns can be seen in a language, and they can help out a lot.  For example, I have noticed that people here call grocery stores subermarkets.  Not thinking about it, I asked my Iraqi roommate what time the grocery store opened.  He looked at me, confused, and said he didn't know.  This left me really confused because it was such a simple question, and I knew that he knew the answer.  Later, I was able to discover that he didn't even know the word grocery store because everyone here says subermarket.  This also includes acknowledging filler words.  Here, the word "yani" gets said all the time.  There is no definite meaning in most cases.  Just a filler.

Make It Easy.  Don't read incorrectly.  I said make it easy, not dumb it down.  Communication can be achieved with increasing difficulty depending upon the grammatical structures and words employed.  Therefore, it's usually best to communicate in the simplest ways, even though they may not sound as smart or polite.  Don't try to impress, just try to get the point across.

Accept Nuances and Adapt.  Sometimes there will be words that are misused, phrases that are taken out of context, things that are misunderstood.  Most of the time, it's best to take it for what it's worth and just move on.  Again, the goal is getting the point across, not achieving perfection.

Cross-cultural communication is not easy.  It's messy, and it takes time to get it right.  I'm doing my best here. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

For example, today in class, my classmate was trying to say 'exactly' (bizaBt), and she accidentally said 'naked' (bizaLt).  Hilarity ensued, followed by the other guy in class and myself using bizaLt in our next few example sentences.  The lesson?  Never will I ever forget how to say 'naked' in Arabic.

The Country Music Marathon

Ok, ok, I'll come right out and say it.  I ran the Country Music (Half) Marathon!

I have been training for it for some time, but there is literally nothing that could have prepared me for that day.

Let me start at Friday.  I got up, did some homework, went to class, and then packed my bags to head to Nashville with two of my roommates - one who was also running the half and the other who was gracious enough to come and cheer us on.  We traveled to Nashville and went to the convention center to pick up our bibs and gear.  I have never, ever seen so many people in Nashville.  It was crazy.  We stood in line for probably 30-40 minutes and finally made it to the desk where we got our bibs and t-shirts.  Then, we headed to the expo where there were hundreds of booths set up selling all kinds of running gear and health food.  Naturally, we had to try everything.  Marathon bars, power jelly beans, gummy energy snacks, shots of tomato juice and muscle milk.  Almost everything I put in my mouth was disgusting, but, hey, a runner's gotta do what a runner's gotta do.  I separated from my compadres and headed to my sister's house.  She took me out for pasta (naturally), and then I went home and went to bed.

Saturday, I got up at 4 am, and I scrounged around my sister's house in the dark for some breakfast food.  I wound up with a piece of bread and four strawberries.  I wasn't sure if this would hold me over, but it was all I had.  I headed down to LP Field to park my car and boarded a shuttle headed for Centennial Park.  The range of emotions on that shuttle was incredible.  It ranged from intense focus to anxiety to exhaustion.  When we got to the park, we were shepherded through all of these stations that were handing out free bagels, bananas, water, and other energy drinks - luckily, my food problem was no solved.  Then, I had an hour before the race to scope out the competition, which really meant an hour to watch people.

Finally, I started stretching and then walked down closer to the corrals where I found my roommate - a shocking feat due to the sheer mass of people that was there.  After some talking, we headed to our corrals and got ready for the race to begin.  It was amazing to look back and see all of West End COVERED, I mean COVERED in people.  There were 30,000 participants and probably an equal, if not greater, amount of spectators.

At 7 am, the race began.  I was in about the 8th corral, so I started at around 7:10, and as I crossed the race line, I felt so great.  It was incredible to be so in tune with everyone else who was running and to just feel the excitement of everyone cheering for you.  The first six or so miles went like clockwork.  The best part to me, was finding people to pace myself with.  Call it weird, but I developed some psychological connections with these people, and I now act like we were friends after that good 30 minutes that we were running together.  The sad part, I'll probably never see them again.  Sad.  Also, along the entirety of the course were people cheering for you with signs or water or fruit.  Another favorite part were the kids who would hold out their hands in anticipation of a high-five.

1 hour 55 minutes and 33 seconds later, I crossed the finish line.  It was an amazing feeling to accomplish something that I had been thinking about since last November or before.  Needless to say, running the Country Music Half Marathon was one of the best decisions that I have ever made.  I wanted to do something that was just for me.  Something that I could be proud of on my own, and I did it.  I look at my medal, and I think about the hard work that I did, and I'm proud that I can say how much it means to me.

Was it difficult?  Yes.  Did I have to work for it?  Yes.  Am I in more muscle pain right now than I have ever been in before in my life?  Yes.

Was it worth it?  Absolutely.

Maybe you aren't into running, maybe you aren't into physical activity at all.  Point is, set your heart on something and go for it.  Do something just for you, something that you can be proud of and that you can take full responsibility for.  Sometimes, it's just what you need.

Next year, I'm setting my eyes on the full.  Let's go.

Seasons of Life

All things come in cycles.  Especially the seasons.

First, you have winter.  It's cold and dreary.  You're probably sick at some point even though you got the flu shot and have been eating vitamin C like candy.  Every once and again, you get a good snow day, which a lot of people love - but I hate (hate the snow, love the snow day).  Of course there's the joy of Christmas and all that jazz to brighten this least favorite of the seasons.

Second is spring.  The snow starts to melt and out comes the pollen.  I'm literally allergic to everything, so I'm, once again, sick, but thank God that the sun is out.  You sit outside in your lawn chair (hammock) and soak up all of those rays, probably resulting in a good old sunburn.  It's the best.

Third, we have summer.  Glorious, summer.  No school, no work.  Internships, travel, etc. fill the docket of this wonderful month.  This time around, I'll be headed to the other side of the world to see what they think about this season.  I'll get back to your with those details.

Finally, we have fall, or, as some of you more erudite readers may like to call it, autumn.  The leaves start to change, you pull back out those long sleeve shirts and the like, and there are bonfires. I'm, again, sick because of all the vegetation changes.

What have we learned?

I'm sick literally all the time.

No, what I wanted to provide there was the image that, like the seasons, all things change.  I'll say it again, my life has changed drastically over the past year.  When I started out on this journey though, I had a picture in my head of just what these changes would look like.

Funny thing is, nothing changes in quite the way you think it's going to.  It's so funny how we say, "Oh, I'll do this and then everything will fall into place," or "I'll just make this tiny change, but everything else will remain the same." No. No. No.  Not how it works.  Ever.

In my life, I changed one major thing, and it was like a domino effect.  I have experienced changes in my personality, my desires, my thought-processes, my attitudes, my political affiliations, my ideas about social constructs...literally everything.

A lot of the time, these changes excite me.  Currently though, they overwhelm me.  It's obviously a struggle with contentment, but when everything is changing, can a person be content?

Maybe you've made some changes lately, maybe you are thinking about making some.  Maybe those changes are going your way, maybe they are not.  Either way, it's important to remember that all things come in cycles.

Keep trudging through the snow because, eventually, spring is coming.

Lessons from Korea

The next day in Korea was filled with cultural learning.  We toured a museum, learned to play the drums and do a traditional mask dance, and then we traveled to Korea's very own version of Disneyland.  The park was awesome despite the fact that I was still super sick.  Later that day, while still at the park, it began to snow.  What a crazy Spring Break!

My final day in Korea was spent in closing ceremonies, finishing up some last minute shopping, and going out one last time with some great friends.  This was definitely a trip that I will never forget.

Some things I learned:

1.  Don't be intimidated by people.  We are all human, we all have positive and negative qualities.  Being able to see past those and to love people for who they are is what can set us apart.

2.  Don't exaggerate accomplishments.  You've done something cool?  Great.  It isn't necessary to one-up, just be proud for others.

3.  Embrace new experiences.  Best case scenario: you find something you love.  Worst case: you find something that you don't love, and you're able to definitely say so.

4.  Always, Always, ALWAYS, bring medicine with you during international travel.  Pack a variety.  Sinus, headache, stomach, anything you can find.  Antibiotics are priority, but only if attained legally, of course.

5.  American snacks are also a must.  Don't get me wrong, international cuisine is one of my favorite things, but there is just something about the richness of American food that I was missing.  My peanut butter and crackers worked well, but I would have loved to have packed a few other things.

6.  Jet lag kicks tail.  The past two days, I have literally taken at least two naps.  My time clock is still backwards, and it doesn't seem to be evening out at all.  It doesn't help that I have three tests this week.  Ah, c'est la vie.

Being in Korea, I didn't only learn about Asian culture.  I learned to appreciate and embrace all that we have here in America.  Yes, Asia was incredible, but I'm pretty fond of the good, old USA. 

I had an amazing time, but I'm glad to be back. 

Korean Adventures and Pork Dumplings

Last Wednesday, I left Union and headed toward Nashville.  That night, I went to bed eager to wake up a short two hours later and board a plane for Dallas, Texas.  In Dallas, I would meet up with several other college students who were participating in the CIEE South Korea Scholarship Program.  Now, this was first trip outside of the United States, and I had no idea what to expect.  Now that I've been here for a few days, I have few insights to offer accompanied by some stories of the goings-on of the program.  Let's jump in.

First day consisted of getting to know people.  Asking and being asked the same five awkward questions is terrible except that you meet really cool people.  This group is so diverse both ethnically, academically, and any other -cally you can imagine.  "Where are you from? Oh my gosh, do you know so-and-so. No? Ok. What's your major? Oh do you speak foreign languages?  You do?  Awesome me too." Everyone here is incredible.  Really.

Next, Korean language lessons, which in reality means that we covered the alphabet and learned to say "Hello"and "Thank you."  Needless to say, it's been difficult attempting to make it around the city.  Lots of body language is used.  I have also learned that saying things in an Asian accent is surprisingly effective.  Politically correct?  Probably not, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

Along with seeing the city, we have had tons of lectures on relations between Korea (both North and South) and everyone else you can imagine.  It's really interesting to see the perspective of another nation.  Their idea of the Korean War was completely different from my visions of what happened, so it was really cool to hear their side of the story.

That brings me to today.  We went to visit the Demilitarized Zone.  I linked it the Wiki just in case you want to learn more.  Basically, it serves as a buffer between North and South Korea.  There are so many strict rules and procedures for being here.  You have to follow a dress code and there are certain areas in which you aren't allowed to take photographs.  It's crazy.  Through this visit, I technically stepped foot in North Korea.  Again, crazy.



Later that night, Taekwondo lessons.  That's right I can both speak Korean and do some sick martial arts.  Neither of those is true.

The next day, we traveled to a city south of Seoul for a little excursion.  We saw a traditional Korean village, which was interesting, but what was better was the large handful of Korean school girls who were literally crying over all of the American boys.  I felt like a celebrity as they begged all of us to take pictures with them.  Talking to them was really cool.  Naturally, their English was far better than any of my Korean.  Sad.

Now, on to the pork dumplings.  Monday night, I went out to dinner with a friend's mom who lives in the city.  She took me to this little restaurant, which she had never been to either.  We ordered in our broken Korean and were looking forward to the large amount of pork dumplings we were about to consume - one of the coolest things to me about Korean food is that they share everything, so it's easy to order in groups.  I ate, and it was wonderful.  I then went home, said goodbye to my friends mom, and all but stumbled to my room. I fell asleep for a few hours, and then I woke up as I was running to the bathroom.  I proceeded to puke my guts up for about the next fifteen minutes.  Needless to say, I will never again eat a pork dumpling.  Korean food is great...the first time.  It is currently Wednesday, and I'm still not at 100%.  Gross.

Though the trip isn't yet over, I have had an incredible time.  The people I'm spending this week with are all insanely intelligent, and they are definitely all going places.  I'm really honored to be among them.  I'm so thankful for this opportunity to have experienced a culture that is so different from my own.  It's exactly what I needed for this spring break.  Two more short days here, and then it's back to the United States.

Spectacular, Spectacular

Maybe I'm obsessed with the movie Moulin Rouge, maybe I am not.

Hint: I am!

First of all, let's talk about Nicole Kidman AND Ewan McGregor...in the same place...at the same time...singing.  That alone sets a high bar for this movie.  Any film in which these two appear, I will watch, also love.

Speaking of love, the picture of love offered by this movie is out of control.  Sure, there is questionable material, the girl is a can-can dancer after all, but the love offered by this young, Bohemian man sweeps her off her feet.  Insane.  

*Spoiler Alert*

Thirdly, tragedy.  I love a good tragedy.  That may seem weird at first, but here's the deal, things never work out the way you expect them to.  Sometimes, it's good to watch a movie where the people don't end up 'happily ever after' because, quite frankly, nothing in life is ever totally 'happy ever after.'

Now, let me say this, this movie was not at all what I expected.  There are times when you may feel like you are on an acid trip, but that's part of the fun, right?  Right.

On to the sentimental. 

 "The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return..."

What an incredible gem.  I like to focus on the last part of it.  We have to learn to be loved, not just to love.  This is probably where I struggle the most.  I am fine with showing others that I love them, but sometimes, it's just hard to allow others to love me because that forces me to really open up, to allow them to sacrifice, and to chance not only being hurt but hurting them, even if just by accident.

Because of this simple fact, I often push people away and just never allow them to get too close.

It's hard because I want to be in control.  Being loved involves letting go and letting someone else control for a minute.  Am I willing to let this happen?  Am I willing to let someone love me?  

What a revolutionary concept.

So, here's a new resolution.  Learn to be loved.

"Some people want to fill the world with silly love songs.  

Well what's wrong with that?  I'd like to know."

    

"We could be heroes, just for one day."

Exposure

Let's skip the charades.  You're seeing right through me anyway.

Can we just speak plain?  We're playing for the same team.
But I'm the one that's acting like I'm so strong.
You're the one that's acting like nothing's wrong. - "Skip the Charades" by Cold War Kids

Lately, I have been irritable, ultra-sensitive, a monster.  

It often hasn't been fair and hasn't been at all properly directed.  I'm working on it.  Trying to pull through it.  

I was the wild card, you were the safe bet.

I've been broken open.

I have been broken open,

Was a perfect gentleman.

Now I'm smashing champagne, tying cans

Feel like celebrating.

It feels so strange to feel good,

And when I was the fire you were wood.

So when I was petrified,

You understood.

I have been broken open.

This was not my master plan.

I was comfortable watching from the stands.

I've been broken open.

All my edges are exposed.

I was once content alone.

Now you brought the one that I call home.

I've been broken open.  - "Broken Open" by Cold War Kids

 The original intent of this blog post was quite different.  Luckily, I was saved by having breakfast with a very dear friend of mine.  Through that chat, I uncovered a lot of deep-rooted issues that I've been successfully hiding since August.  Lesson learned: The truth will come out peacefully if you let it, or the truth will come out kicking and screaming if you don't...either way, it's coming out.

They say the hardest part of any problem is admitting that you actually have a problem.  Here it is, I admit it: I'm struggling.  Sometimes I'm lonely, insecure, upset, and I just need to be uplifted.  Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn't.  

What I learned through this week, however, is that I have been seeking that uplifting from all of the wrong places.  I filled a huge void with things that slowly began to disappear.  When that happened, I expected far too much from someone who is far too small to fill what I needed.

Growth hurts, but it's generally the pain that teaches the lessons.  I know I did the right thing this summer, and though I didn't expect this or see it coming in any way, I'm just now dealing with a lot of the decisions that I made.  Relationships leave holes, scars, voids.  If they didn't, they wouldn't hurt.  As I said before, I did a great job of filling that void when I got home.  I had new relationships, new experiences, new travels, everything was so...new.  That newness eventually wore off, but I couldn't figure out what had changed so much, why I was so upset all the time.  It was because my void had emptied.  

That realization was a breakthrough for me.  Now I know that my void is empty, but I also know that the void has to be filled, and it will be in time.  This time around, I'm going to be more conscious of what fills it.  I want to fill my life with things that are solid, with things that matter, most importantly, with me and with my God.


I hope that if you have an empty void, you'll consider what you're filling it with.  


Thanks for sticking with me.      

Doors, windows, and getting through them.

I hate clichés.  All of them.

"Whenever God closes a door, He always opens a window."

This one might be my least favorite.

Alright, I get the idea.  When opportunities don't work out, the world isn't over.  You aren't stuck in this limbo of a room that has four walls and no escape.  I would even go as far to say that, in the end, you will be happier with the outcome and the journey that occurs as a result of these 'failures.'

When you're walking along though, it isn't the end of the journey that you can see.  You see what's around you.  What's behind you.  But you can't see into the future...what you will feel like when this all over...what you look back and think about the circumstances...what you laugh about, cry about, regret.

Who's to say that you are supposed to forget about that door that you've been looking at for months?  What about all the work you did, all the heart you put in?  Can't you just mourn that for a while, instead of being told to go check out the nearest window?

We need definitions.

Door: any gateway marking an entrance or exit from one place or state to another.

Window: an opening in the wall of a building for the admission of air or light.

These two things do not even serve the same purpose.  A door provides entrance into a new place.  A window let's in some air, some light, and, on the worst of days, bugs.  Who wants that?

Lately, it seems as though doors have been closing right and left, and I've been told more times than I can count to go looking for a window.

The problem is that I'm trying to get to a new place.  I know what the view looks like from here. I've felt the breezes, and I've dealt with the bugs.  A window isn't serving any purpose for me.  I'm on the lookout for something a little bigger, a little better.

Cliché: a trite, stereotyped expression; a sentence or phrase, usually expressing a popular or common thought or idea that has lost originality, ingenuity, and impact by long overuse. 

I hate clichés, and, most importantly, who wants to crawl through a window anyway?


So, for now, I'm not okay with just looking for a window.  I'm holding out for a door.  I know that my God is not teasing me with light and air in the stead of an entrance.  


“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. Or which one of you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!" - Matthew 7:7-11 


There's a door out there, and I'm going to keep searching until I find it.


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