Mis Escritos Y Pensamientos

Right now, all over Facebook is the newest rage. Essentially someone writes 25 random facts about themselves. In my personal opinion this just goes to show how self-centered our culture has become. Seriously, now we can't just write our thoughts for the world to see, but we have to write about ourselves? Don't get me wrong, I love myself. In fact, I believe that it is quite possible that I could come up with the best "25 Things About Me" ever. Not that I'm conceited or anything, cause I'm not, but if I were, my 25 things would go like this....



1. I am incredibly glad that I pierced my nose. It hurt like crazy, but it was worth it. If I ever get engaged, I will take out the nose ring, because I don't want it to be in my wedding pictures.



2. I have been to four countries outside of the United States. Austria was the shortest visit, Canada was where I heard the most complaining (from my brothers), Romania was the hardest to leave, El Salvador is where I most want to return.



3. I love the Spanish language. Sometimes, my brain randomly thinks phrases in Spanish, por ejemplo, "No se," "Tengo una pregunta," o, "No Queiro."



4. My secret dream is to be a Sous Chef. I know it will never happen, because I would never want to work my way up to the top, but it's fun to pretend and dream.



5. I have a fairly recent addiction to Gilmore Girls, and I like to knit while watching them.



6. I have written over 50,000 words in a month. My novel is yet to be finished, because I am a procrastinator.



7. All as I was growing up, I refused to be a teacher, because that's what my mother did. I wanted to do something "on my own." I am now teaching my third semester of a college class.



8. I have, at one time or another, lived with the three girls that are my closest friends.



9. I want to travel to as many places as possible, and learn as many languages as possible, in order to share God's love.



10. I gave my heart away in the Spring of 2008. God filled me with His love like never before, and I will never be the same again.



11. If God ever allows me to have children, I want them to grow up bilingual.



12. I believe with my whole heart that God will one day have me living in another country, that His name may be glorified. (This could also contribute to the completion of #11.)



13. On the night that Bert and I started dating, we escorted a camp of children into a basement because of a tornado, drove through a storm, I broke my foot, and then we were questioned by a policeman at two in the morning. (It was a semi-emotional night.)



14. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I started calling my brother Keiko when he was little.



15. I want to get my M.A. in English.



16. If I could pick, I would want to have six children one day.



17. I can tell you the exact moment that my eyes were opened to the wonderment of soccer. I was on a bus riding down a dirt road in the middle of Romania, when I saw a bunch of kids in a barren field with a partially round ball, playing the game. That's when it happened.



18. I love Louisa May Alcott. I've read Little Women about 6 times, and wrote a 30 page paper on how her life influenced her writings.



19. I have a grand obsession with kitchenware. I can spend forever in the store looking at appliances, dinning sets, glassware, utensils, etc...I can't wait until I have my own kitchen.



20. A bag of Sterzings, a Pepsi, and a game of cards with Grandma makes me pretty darn happy.



21. I cannot hold up three fingers. My brothers say it's more of a two-and-a-half.



22. When it comes to rules, I like to keep them. It makes me nervous to break rules, or if I think that I might be breaking the rules.



23. At about the age of 11 or 12, there were a few times people came up to me in restaurants and asked if I was Michelle Trachtenberg (Harriet the Spy). I told them no.



24. By the time I was in Second Grade, I had already been to three different schools.



25. Today I saw a bobcat run across the driveway in front of my house.



Interesting, no? You should try it too.

I'm not good with odes, at least, not rhyming ones. So, don't worry, I won't even try. Trust me, you owe me your thanks.

Today is a VERY special day, and I almost missed it. If I had realized what day it was, I my attire would have been assembled completely differently this morning. A time to stop and ponder the questions, "Is all that we see or seem, but a dream within a dream?" Perhaps I would have even have taken time to admire the "ashen and sober sky."

Of course I am speaking of the 200th birthday of Edgar Allan Poe. Yes, it was 200 years ago on this very day, that into the world came one of America's most interesting writers. His birth was probably the same as most others, he was born. His life was, well let's just be honest, too complex and weird, even for soap operas. His death is still shrouded in mystery, but his lines live on. Yes, I know what you're thinking, "Christa, why are you writing about some weird guy who was a psychotic pedophile?" Well, when you put it like that, I do feel a little bad about writing about him, but still, his writings fascinate me.

With such words as
"I was a child and she was a child
in this kingdom by the sea:
but we loved with a love that was more than love,
me and my Annabelle Lee."
people are often disgusted, but you know what goes through my mind?

"Wow, that rhymes really well."

Please refer to the aforementioned fact that I cannot rhyme. I think that I might have a rhyming deficiency, therefore, I am in awe of those who can actually rhyme.I am so enthralled with this dead man and his works, that when I found myself in Baltimore this past summer, I had to visit his house and grave. Well, we drove right by his house, because there was no way I was getting out of my car in that part of town, but his grave was fascinating.



This is me in front of Poe's new grave, while the picture above is his old grave. What you can't tell here is that I am wearing a t-shirt with the poem The Raven. See, I like Poe.

I really can't grasp or convey my fascination with this man, part of it has to do with his strange death. A large part probably has to do with the mysterious man that still comes to his grave. Perhaps this fascination is something fleeting, "only this and nothing more." I guess all I have to say now is to end, and there is no other way to end this blog about Poe than to conclude with his most memorable lines. "Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore.'"

My title is an understatement. It's crazy cold outside, and even though I've said it a million times before, I'll say it again. "I hate winter." Even as I write this, I am told that it feels like -25 degrees outside. Yes, and that's fahrenheit. One of my favorite parts about teaching ESL is to get to the day where we learn about weather. Students from all over the world, but especially those from more tropical locations, are astounded when told that in the winter that it gets below 0 degrees here. They almost pass out when they are told that is 0 degrees Fahrenheit, not celsius. You can see as they begin to try and figure in their head what the temperature would be in celsius, and then watch their eyes as realization sets in. It gets pretty darn cold in Missouri.

I'm trying to think of good benefits of the cold. So far I have....

1. There are no bugs. No normal living creature would come out in this weather.

2. If for some reason your fridge stops working, you can just set everything outside your doorstep.

3. Ice skating is a little easier in the winter than in the summer...at least in some locations.

4. It makes advocates of global warming look like idiots.

So far, that's all I've got. Feel free to list you own ideas on how this freezing weather could be a good thing.

I can think of a bad thing about this cold. I have the coldest room in my house. Last night, I tossed and turned, trying to find some warmth somewhere, as the temperature in my room dipped to a chilly 58 degrees. Not freezing I know, but not the most comfortable sleeping temperature. At least I didn't have to sleep outside.

Well, perhaps it about time that I explain the Spanish titles...

It all started when I was about five years old, well maybe not that far back, but that is how old I was when my mom taught me to count to 15 in Spanish.

See, in High School, my mother insisted that I take a foreign language. Since I despised all things French (except for french fries) Spanish was my only other option. Months of listening to Spanish tapes and repeating the words and phrases was enough for me to officially place the Spanish language on the same list as the French language. I figured that it was pointless and would never use it anyway.

College came, and I realized that the time had come where I would once again have to face the dreaded conjugations and rolling of the "r's". I completed my required two semesters of the class, when, for some reason unbeknownst to myself I signed up for a third semester of Spanish. What I was thinking, I have no idea, and it was a rough class. After leaving the class I remember thinking how pointless it was.

Three months later I found myself at a Subway in El Salvador. All I wanted was a sandwich, and my brain scrambled to try and find the correct words. "Queiro numero cinco, con jamon." (Ok, so ham was not my first choice, but it I didn't know what the other meats were. It's better to be safe than sorry.) "Queires queso?" "Claro."

It was then that I realized how helpful it is, especially when in a foreign country, to know the native language. I soon was reminded of how God has given me the gift of being able to learn a foreign language quickly, especially when immersed in the language. I was sitting in the van, listening to my translator and guide speaking, when I suddenly realized that I understood what they were saying. It was a very exciting time for me.

A year later, I found my love for Spanish had continued to grow and grow. Almost every meal I ate in the caffeteria, I sat with my Spanish, speaking friends. Now, I didn't sit with them just because they spoke Spanish, but it was a small thing that I did enjoy about being around them. My comprehension and vocabulary grew and grew. I started buying books, music, and movies in Spanish. Anything that had Spanish on it, I wanted to try and read. I would drive my brothers loco by changing the tv channel to the Spanish channels.

There's just so much to love about the Spanish language. I find that often, I can express myself better in Spanish, than in English. For instance, in English, if we like a person we use the same word as when we like pizza. "Like" In Spanish, however, if you like pizza, you say, "Me gusta." If I like you, then I would say, "Te Quiero." It expresses it so much better than just comparing me liking you to me liking pizza.

Another example of the beauty of the lanuage can be found in the simple English word "housewife". How do you say "housewife" in Spanish? "Ama de casa" literally translated means, "love of house." Doesn't that sound so much better in Spanish?

Ok, maybe I haven't convinced you yet, and maybe I never will, but I can't help it. Yo tengo espanol in mi corazon y cabeza. No entiendo mucho, o hablo mucho, pero me gusta le lengua.

(I have Spanish in my heart and head. I don't understand or speak very much, but I like the lanuage.)

How God is going to use that exactly, I'm not sure, but He's given me the desire to speak Spanish, for a reason. I can't wait to see what He will do with it.

Lately I've been a little frustrated, because I have not been around Spanish, and I'm finding that I'm quickly forgetting words, and it is rare that I can even understand it when spoken. Maybe that's why the Spanish titles. I don't want to lose what I've learned, so be warned. There are probably many more Spanish things to come.

Today, at work, I had a conversation about eyes. A certain co-worker was telling how everyone in his family had blue eyes, and I mean everyone, ever. When he took home his future wife, who happened to be part Native American, the first thing that his grandmother did was look at her and say, "She doesn't have blue eyes."

The question I've been asked so many times in life is, "What color are your eyes?" To which I chuckle and answer, "Well, they change." It's true, my eyes change colours. Some days they are more green, while others, blue is the colour of choice. As I get older, they don't seem to change color as much as they once did. However, my eyes seem to have a tendency to cause problems at times.

One of the first times it was an issue was in El Salvador. "Me gusta tus ojos!" "Tus ojos son muy bonita!" These sentences would follow me as I walked up and down the sidewalks of the school. Ack, I didn't know how to respond to such proclamations, so I kept walking, with my head down hoping to blend in. I had arrived, happy that I had dark hair, just like everyone else, not even thinking that some of the people I was working with had never seen eyes that weren't brown. Slyly the boys would hold up their camera phones and try to take my picture as I walked by. I was so embarrassed. Another day I was walking by a group of them talking with my translator. He told me, that they had never seen eyes like mine, and proceeded to make me stand there while they just looked, fascinated at my blue/green eyes. I felt like some new kind of animal that had just been discovered, while people fawned over it.

I think that the attention that most surprised me actually occurred later that fall. I was teaching a college class, and in the class were two students from Turkey. As I was lecturing, they were sitting there, speaking in their own language, when suddenly, one of them gets up, walks to the front of the room, and stands there looking at me. I'm a little flustered by this time, but continue to lecture. The student finally turned around and went back to his seat, where he proceeded to continue his conversation with his friend. Then he interrupts the lecture and says to me, "Teacher, what color are your eyes?" Obviously blue/green eyes are not common in Turkey either.

Who knew that the color of eyes could be such a big deal. These situations remind me of a story that I read once about a missionary named Amy Carmichael. She was a missionary to India. A story is told of how, as a child she had brown eyes, but always wanted blue ones. She even prayed and asked God to make her eyes change to beautiful blue ones. Later in life, she had to disguise herself as a native of India, in order to save children. To do so she had to dye her skin dark with coffee. It was then that she realized if God had given her blue eyes, she would never have been able to blend in as a native of the country. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amy_Carmichael

Who knew that the color of one's eyes could be such a big deal? So, tell me...what color are your eyes, or what eye story do you know?

In October, a friend introduced me to a wonderful, horrible thing called "NANOWRIMO." It was new, it was exciting, it was elusive...

NANOWRIMO is the shortened version of the actual title, which is "National Novel Writer's Month." Basically, in November a bunch of crazy people decide to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. For some reason, I decided that this would be something "fun" to do. I had always wanted to write a novel, but figured that it would be one of those things that I would eventually get to. The time had finally come. November 2008 was MY month. Questions began to formulate in my brain and invade my thoughts throughout the day. In my car, at work, or in front of the students teaching, these questions began to flow constantly. I should have known at this time what a life-sucking experience this would be. Still, I was yet to be dissuaded from the task at hand. The questions only became more as November quickly approached.

"What will I write about?"

"How can I 'cheat' and get extra words?"

"Is it NANO -RIE- MO or NANO - REE -MO?"

The first day was a success. Sure I didn't have a plot yet, but that was to be expected. Background is always a great place to start. I wrote almost 2,400 words. I thought that was pretty good, considering that I had to average 1,760 a day to reach my goal. Ah....day one was over, and I was ahead of schedule.

Everything fell apart the second day. No, I was not bitten by some nasty anti-writing bug (trust me, they do exist), writer's block wasn't a problem either. On Day 2 of NANOWRIMO, my grandfather passed away. For the next four days, I didn't write a word, and besides grieving over our loss, I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had already failed in my goal. I was four days behind. That was over 7,000 words.

After much discussion, prayer, and encouragement, especially from my boyfriend, I decided to try and make up lost ground and finish my novel before the dreaded deadline.

Many days, frustrations, and lack of plots later, the end of November arrived. Many times, when asked if I could go do something, my reply was, "I can't. I have to write."

It was horrible, difficult, frustrating, and I loved it. On November 30th, at 2 in the morning (22 hours before the deadline) I hit 50,066 words. The task was completed! I had reached the goal!!!!

Unfortunately, that's only partly true. I reached my word goal by the deadline, but what has that really left me with? It's left me with a 50,000 word story that isn't finished. Yes, it has been over a month since I "finished" NANOWRIMO, and yet, my poor character still don't know what's going to happen to them in the end. My poor editors don't know either. Heck, not even the writer knows what's going to happen to them. It's a sad story. Maybe I should just end the story where it is now. Sure, there would be no great conclusion, but many a great writer has left their readers "hanging". Or, better yet, I could pull a Dickens. Tie everything together and make everyone live happily ever after in the last two pages of the novel.

Whatever happens, I have got to finish it. In fact, if I were to have a New Year's Goal, that's what it would be. I resolve to finish my novel before March! Or at the very latest, I have to finish it by November. NANOWRIMO starts then, and I have to be ready to start on my next novel.

Ok, for you non-Spanish speakers out there...a translation...

This blog is my writings and thoughts, "My Writings and Thoughts" technically. I don't need another blog at all, but I figured, that I had a few extra minutes, so I would see what I could do. Actually, this one will probably be much more random than my other blogs where I try to "monitor" my brain output. I need a place to exercise my writing skills, and for some reason, a Word document is not enough. There is a strange urge inside of me to bare my thoughs, or at least spew random mumblings out into the world. This could be interesting...