Back to the Basics

I have been a volunteer leader at Falls Church High School for the past three and a half years. In that time I have met girls that were freshman in high school when I was a freshman in college. Now we are both seniors. There have been many sweet moments of real life that I have been able to be a part of in these girls lives. This year I have watched them walk across fields and courts for their senior nights. Time has gone by so quickly and these girls have grown and I have grown and our friendships have grown.

I had so many expectations this year about the dynamics of my friendships with my high school friends. All volunteer leaders want to be rock stars and help change lives and be there for significant moments in their friends lives. This year that has been harder for me. I am not there as much as I want to be. So in the moments when I am able to sit with one of my high school friends, I feel a lot of pressure to make those moments powerful and impactful. I put pressure on myself to continually reach out and overdose on my presence at the school or via text, tweet, insta's, etc. And it has not gone so well.

Over and over again I try to be Jesus to these friends. I try to love them like Jesus loves them. But I fail. Because I am not Jesus. Jesus is Jesus. "I am I am." And my high school friends don't need me to be Jesus, they need Jesus.

I worry and stress over whether or not I am loving enough for my high school friends to feel they can be open with me. I worry and stress whether or not I am letting them know that I care enough. I worry and stress over whether or not my high school friends feel like I have forgotten them. I worry and stress that the precious time I have with them, I am wasting.

I pray that they will forgive me for not being Jesus.

So it's time to go back to the basics. This semester, and this past week specifically, I have realized that I need to go back to the beginning. The beginning of creation - what was my life originally created to be? and the beginning of my friendships with these girls. I do not have overwhelming wisdom to give. I can not fix lives.

But I can be a friend.

Last night, I went to go hang out at a place where two of these high school friends work. When they closed, we stacked chairs. Then we ate gelatto. This was such a sweet interaction because I had no agenda. Because I didn't try to make my interactions this huge deal. Because I went back to the basics. Hanging out with these two, I realized, these high school friends are actually my friends and I am their friend. It was so simple and so sweet. So casual.

There is no formula for being a leader. There is no handbook on how to make deep meaningful friendships (there probably is) but the fact remains that these friendships are natural and different from person to person. Sometimes just hanging out and eating gelatto is as sweet as holding a friend when they are crying.

I am thankful that this is a time when I am re-learning what friendship is. I am thankful that my high school friends are teaching me. And I am thankful that "We know what real love is because Jesus gave up His life for us. So we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters." 1 John 3:16

Tonight is Hard.

Tonight is hard.

Sitting upstairs, listening to my parents arguing downstairs. Knowing that everything in our family is changing. Feeling that my family is literally ripping me apart and tearing me down, while my family is the thing that I love the most.

Then seeing the FCPS Confessions twitter accounts where students are named and shamed. Where secrets are revealed with the intent to hurt. Something so full of hurt and pain. People versus people. Just a few weeks ago am FCPS student committed suicide. Last year so many suicides. So much pain. So much hurt. So much loneliness.

And I am overcome and hurt. How can our world be so cruel. How can these students who I care so deeply about be such jerks. How can my parents no longer be who I need them to be? Why does it feel like my life is so hard and there are so many hoops to jump through? Where is the happiness?

And while I read through the tweets, I felt so much desperation. What can I do to fix all this hurt? And while I listened to the hushed arguments of my parents I desperately tried to think of the words that I could say to both of my parents in consolation.

And I realized, this is all so out of my hands, so out of my league. I can literally do nothing.

Because I cannot forgive the sins of these kids or my parents, I cannot take away the pain, I can not sacrifice to make it better. Because I need that forgiveness just as much as these kids. Because I feel the same pain.

Because Jesus is the one, oh the sweet ONE who cares so deeply about me, about FCPS, about my parents. And I am learning that none of this pain and hurt could ever make sense without the knowledge that there is someone, Jesus, who died for me and for those that hurt me and for those that I love and are in pain; REGARDLESS of anything and everything I have ever done or said, regardless of anything anyone has ever done. Because otherwise we are all so eternally lost in this ugly world of cruel words and pain.

And as I was having a freak out/panic attack/questioning literally everything I skimmed Hebrews 10. And verse 17 said, "Their sins and lawless acts I will remember no more." Jesus truly does make beautiful things out of us. For how can we be loved through all these mistakes, through all this pain. It does not make sense. But it is true.

And in my pain, this is what I am clinging so desperately to, to Jesus, to his love for me. I am loved. Even when it feels like the world, my world is spinning so rapidly out of control. This love will always be true when nothing else remains the same.

And I am okay. And I am loved. And I am in pain. And I hurt. I am all of these things at once.

My Life as a College Senior.

So today marks the end of my second week as a senior in college. The final year of my undergraduate career. I'm just going to jump right into how my time before embarking on adulthood has played out.

I would describe my first few days as a college senior as something akin to a middle school girl experience all over again. I started my first day of class off by walking around campus wondering where my class was and how to get from one side of campus to the other. Mind you, this is my fourth year at this school. I lived on campus for three years. Still, no clue how to get from the library to Enterprise, no clue where Enterprise is at, no clue if that is even a real building.

At multiple events and multiple times I was asked if I was a freshman. Not that there is much age difference between a freshman and myself, it's just that, that means that I seem new and shiny and there is something weird about people thinking that I am when in reality I am old and haggardly.

Also, I am in a class with all freshman. It's French 115. And I am the dumbest one in that class. So yup.

On Tuesday, the second day of class, I convinced myself that I did not have class and skipped it. I later realized, I had had class and I was an idiot.

Finally, to round up my experience as a middle school girl in a college senior's body, comes the most embarrassing moment thus far. Boys feel free to read no longer. My first week in school also happened to be the week I was on my period. Yup. So because typical symptoms of the beautiful flowering of my womanhood I bled through my shorts. Holla. The best/worst (definitely worst) was the fact that I went to college young life that night and got called up for a skit. Thankfully, everyone got to witness this.

So what I have come to learn is the following: age does not mean I am smarter, it seems to mean the opposite; I will never know how to get around campus; I should probably look at my schedule for classes sometime; and I will have the same accidents I had in middle school

I could not have started this year off in a more humbling way. So let's see where it goes from here.

ha. ha. ha.

Help. Help. Help. How do I do all the homework I have to do? My motivation is gone. It is all away. Never here to stay. Living my life like it is summer and I have no more homework assignments, while all those assignments sit in my lap waiting to be completed. Makes me feel like I'm going to be defeated. Help. Help. Help. Help me find the muster to complete this cluster of work to be done before I can enjoy the sun. I know I just have to grit my teeth and bear it, make it through the next three days, but my mind is all a haze. Ugh. Just thinking of all the fun things I have planned for the rest of this season, shouldn't that be reason enough, knowing the work will lead to pleasing? Anyway. I'm off to write these two papers and study for this exam. Will my brain melt? Probably. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Living a Bucket List Life

One thing I have not gotten around to doing, because it would require work - a bucket list.

However, that has not stopped me from living a bucket list kind of life. This year I have been white water rafting, spent a night in West Virginia and dun dun dun - went skydiving. Probs one of the most common bucket list life items. 

This whole adventure started with a conversation that Jen and I had saying that we should really go skydiving. 

This is Jen. Super Friendly. 

This is how Jen and I do things. We say we really want to do something and talk about how awesome it would be and how much we really, really, really want to do it, and then we wait for it to fall in our laps without putting in any effort. Luckily, this plan worked flawlessly this time. 

One day, as I was looking through the groupon deals, there happened to be one for skydiving. So a phone call to Jen later, and our tickets were bought. 

Here's another thing about Jen and I, once we spend money on something, we are committed to it. No backing out. 

After quickly checking with our friends to see if anyone else wanted to join, and all of them essentially stating that they preferred living, we were well on our way to willingly jumping out of a plane. ha. ha. ha. 

Three weeks ago Jen called D.C. Skydiving center and reserved our spots. ha. ha. ha. 

Here is a screenshot of our initial feelings about skydiving. 

We were so optimistic. 

Please ignore the fact that I spelled butterflies, butterflys.

Flash forward to the week before skydiving. Monday, April 22, 2013. We watch this video. 

Ha. Ha. Ha. 

Thursday, April 25, 2013. I feel like I'm going to throw up. The whole day. Probably more because of school and life stress, but I'm willing to attribute this feeling to skydiving. 

Friday, April 26, 2013, I tell my group that they shouldn't count on me getting my work done because I will probably die. I decide not to do homework, because, hey I'm jumping out of a plane. This is nutz. Dance the night away. Can't sleep, too nervous. Text Jen telling her I can't sleep, too nervous. Shower, Watch this video again

Saturday, April 27, 2013. It is the day. Go to Jen's house. Drive to the chiropractor. Jen goes to the chiropractor. I sit in the car. Cry, cry. Go to a bookstore. Can't focus. Too nervous. Go to panera. Want food. I eat wondering what it will be like to throw the food up in a few hours. 

We drive to the place, realize we are going to be an hour early, so we stop, have 7-11 slurpees and take a little bit of time to enjoy the weather. Then we continue to drive. As we approach the place, I yell and Jen stops the car as we see skydivers floating down from the sky. 

With excitement we walk through the fields into the skydiving place. We stand in line and watch a video with a long bearded man saying that we may die and will never be able to sue lol. Then we sign six pages stating that we are never, ever, ever allowed to sue them. Lol again.

Once we signed the papers we took a quick five minute course in skydiving. Essentially, hold on and then spread your arms out. After our extensive training, Jen and I were ready to take the sky.

As we were waiting for our harnesses, we witnessed an argument between our instructor and some fellow sky divers. This was all very reassuring and encouraging. One on one the instructors were nice, helpful, and funny. And we all know humor is the most important factor of all.

The terrifying fear that I had felt left the moment we arrived at the place. Probably because my mind no longer had time to create terrifying scenarios, probably because it was finally real and that was something I could hold on to.

So from the moment we stood in line to check in, I began to feel more comfortable. Not excited, not worried, not terrified, comfortable. As I was walking toward the plane, this turned into an event that was happening, the build up led to this moment, and the moment was here and now it was more typical than atypical. So while sitting on the plane and watching the world become small and visible, I was calm. The view was beautiful, the world was below me for my viewing.

I hear Jen's yells and screams. The door to the airplane opens. I watch as Jen spills over the side of the plane. And through this all, the butterflies that were in my stomach the week before are gone. I scoot my body (with the attached instructor) to the edge of the open door. First my legs dangle out, then we are standing on nothing, on air, as the instructor holds onto the doorframe of the plane. He asks if I am ready, and with a sense of calm I throw up a thumbs up. Then he lets go of the doorframe. We are parallel to the ground, the wind is overwhelming. I let out a yelp, because that is the moment that skydiving became real. Facing the open fields and perfectly cut out subdivisions is when I realized this was happening, I was no longer holding on to anything, this was a completely new experience, something I had never come remotely close to before. So in that brief moment I felt, not terror, but not comfort. I felt newness. Something I had never experienced before.

So after getting that yell out of my system, I relaxed and tried to comprehend the fact that I could see Washington D.C., Manassas, and Warrenton all at the same time with my own eyes. I tried to comprehend the fact that I could view the roads we had just traveled on, the backyards of people who lived complex lives. And that view made me realize, how small it all is, how little. What a weird thought that when I am on the ground, everything is so big and overwhelming and important. Viewing it all from above made it seem like time was standing still, like nothing was really occurring. Surreal.

Anyway the week leading up to this experience was stressful because the idea of jumping out of a plane is crazy. However, the actual experience was a moment to slow my life down, to remove myself from all the stress and anxiety and deadlines. It was a phenomenal experience and I wish I could accurately use words to depict the serenity and newness of the experience.

Here are some images of the view and Jen.

West Virginia Camping. Guns and Fireworks.

Over Columbus day weekend, two of my friends and I went camping. The location - wild and wonderful West Virginia.

Not sure what is more wild, West Virginia, or Lauren. 

The whole adventure started off with a travel voucher. After working at a desk job all summer, I was feeling a tad dissatisfied with the lack of adventure I had provided for myself that summer. So when I saw a discount for a New & Gauley River Adventures two-night camping and white water rafting, it seemed to be just the thing to spice things up a little.

So I did what any adrenaline seeking, confident adventurer would do, I asked my friends to please buy this voucher with me because I wouldn't do it alone.

After hearing yes's from a few, I decided to jump right in, shirk my newly found boring desk job personality and seek out some rapids to raft.

Fast forward a few weeks. I find out none of my friends bought the voucher and I can't return it. So after being ditched by those jerks, I decided that I was going to be committed to going, after all there was no reason I couldn't be the adventurous heroine of my life.

Fast forward a week or two. I realized the fear of dying in bear attack alone was greater than my zeal for adventure. So I asked my former roommate and friend, Jen Yoo, to accompany me.

Reassuring. 

After making a call to New & Gauley River Adventures to make a reservation I discovered that the camping people were lenient on who pitches a tent on their property. And I also found out that the voucher I bought was for West Virginia. Not Virginia. Surprise.

So Lauren was invited because all of our roommates had weekend plans except for her.

So my camping team was assembled.

What could go wrong with these two by my side?

The departure date was set for Friday after everyone got off work.

After work that Friday, I rush back to my apartment to quickly pack. It was at that moment that I realized how cold it was going to be that weekend, how ill-prepared I was, how I didn't have appropriate clothing for white water rafting, and, finally, how I wasn't sure what food to cook that weekend.

Along with the fear of starvation and hypothermia came the realization that I didn't know how to get to New & Gauley River Adventures. That last thing could easily be solved. I quickly rushed to my computer and printed out mapquest directions.

Upon printing these directions I received a new surprise to the already surprise filled trip - this place was five hours away. Originally I had thought that it would take no more than three hours to get there.

So instead of calling the trip off Jen and I decided to move on forward, without telling Lauren how long it would take to arrive to our destination.

Two hours into our trip we stopped at Cookout in Harrisonburg, VA to have dinner with some friends. That is when we broke the news to Lauren that we still had three hours to drive instead of one! Surprise! Best camping trip ever! She handled it really well, even though she has still not forgiven us.

We arrive to the place around 1 a.m. after driving through a ghost town from a horror movie.

We quickly make note of the welcome sign advertising fine burritos, the many many cars, and many many tents and realize that we are not going to be alone on this trip like we had originally thought. Bear attacks would not be a relevant fear that weekend.

Thank goodness we found a place that sold fine burritos. 

 We park the car and get out to gather our bearings. We are looking around, trying to soak it all in. Within the first minute out of the car we hear a gun shot and a person yelling, "Shoot, I've been shot!" That is when we knew that that was going to be the general theme of our whole weekend. Gunshots and crazy characters.

With a little bit of uncertainty, we walked around to find the prime place to pitch a tent. We found a spot between three trees and right next to the bar and restaurant, which was another part of camping we did not expect.

Little did we know we were breaking the rules.

What are they going to do? Tow us?

That night the bar, seen in the background of the picture, yes it's an outdoor bar, played music well into the morning, like 4:00 a.m. Then, at approximately 3:30 a.m. there were more gunshots and fireworks and a voice yelling, "wake up campers!" In that moment I was so certain I was going to die.

Luckily, we survived through the night and Jen made us breakfast.

The headlamp is a fashion accessory. 

Once we had eaten breakfast, Jen and Lauren escorted me to my solo white water rafting trip, because all my friends ditched me.

I was feeling pretty nervous about the whole experience until I found out I rent a wet suit. With the rental wet suit, I began to regain some of my confidence.

Jen made fun of me while I put the wet suit on. 

That newly gained confidence soon eroded after I had put on my wet suit and Jen and Lauren left me alone. All the rafters gathered at the bottom of the stairs and attendance was taken. Attendance went a little like this:

"McDonald, party of 8?" "Smith, party of 2?" "Martinez, party of one? One really? No one else is with you? And your helmet is on backwards."

So after being shamed for being alone and for putting my helment on backwards, I was starting to slightly question this adventure I had chosen to embark on.

Then came the safety talk. One of the instructors outlined all of the ways we would die. Getting stuck under the raft, being sucked under rocks that were undercut, falling out of the boat and into more rapids. I forgot to listen to the how to survive those situations part because I was overwhelmed by the fact that I was going to die.

The moment I realized I maybe wouldn't survive white water rafting. 

A forty-five minute bus ride up the side of mountain later, we were at our location. I was in a raft with two married couples. Being a fifth wheel quickly became one of my stronger qualities.

Some other people that went on this trip: a bachelor party (this party also shot guns until 4:00 a.m.), three french guys, two couples (whom I was with), and male members of a family.

After going over the first rapid, and crying inwardly a little, I realized that I probably wouldn't die and decided to relax and enjoy the trip.

Our raft guide was named Skip. He has been guiding rafts for 35 years, essentially since the commencement of the the industry. He was a true West Virginia character, with a long ponytail, an earring and wool socks. On our trip he told us stories about moonshine and the best practices for soaking fruit in moonshine. He pointed out different areas and told us the history behind them, even though most times he made it up. He let us do things that other raft guides don't do because they are younger and care more about the lives of their rafters.

Overall, the white water rafting experiences was one of the best of my life. It was a huge accomplishment and I still can't believe I went through some of the rapids I went through.

The reward for the rafters making it out alive was a beer for all. No worries, I did not partake in this tradition. However, I did enjoy the game they played on the way back - taking a drink every time they saw a trailer.

I returned to the Fine Burrito camping place extremely cold and accomplished.

While I was out adventuring, Jen and Lauren took a walk, played some cards, took some naps, and ate multiple meals.

100th meal of the day.

The walk. 

Some Karate Kid exercises. 

A camping site Jen and Lauren found. Dresser and all. 

After their walk and my white water rafting, we decided to head over to the bar and restaurant to finally try some of the fine burritos. We ate the burritos so fast we didn't get pictures. My burrito had sweet potatoes in it, definitely a new experience. A fine one.

Luckily, there is a picture of this. 

After finishing our dinner and bonding with some fellow diners over a fumble in a football game, we went back to the tent and tried to get warm.

Fire in a tent is always a good idea, right?

We found out Lauren was going to have a new baby nephew, we talked about the movie Pitch Perfect and Jen told us bedtime scary stories.

We tried to sleep. There many gunshots, fireworks, and drunken shouts. Then the bar decided to play some comedy show tracks. Quality bedtime serenity.

The next morning we woke up, said good bye to our neighbors, and put away our little tent.

Our show-off neighbors, who needs tents that big?

Our two person tent, where three people slept. 

Where our tent used to be. 

An awesome campfire someone had made. 

Good times were had in the tent. 

In all our glory. 

Then to finish is it up, we had a breathtaking drive home with the beautiful West Virginia scenery. Jen took a picture of literally everything, the Pizza Hut, the gas stations, trees, trees, and more trees.

Most times the pictures Jen took weren't all that focused. 

And, as if things couldn't get better, we encountered and photographed a motorcycle gang on our way home.

As a group.

And individually. 

They can use the HOV lane.

He was cold. 

It was a phenomenal weekend. We learned very little about camping, but we enjoyed the gunshots, fireworks, and stories. Thanks for the experience West Virginia.

Twas the night before my internship...

So tomorrow I end my winter break and head back to the ever friendly northern portion of the Commonwealth of Virginia. I've dreaded a lot of things in my life, but this one has a particular unsettling feeling. It's a premonition that it's going to be a little rocky. But these feelings aren't coming out of no where. Let me tell you a little story of how it all started.

So last year I was in this program called Cornerstones. It was promoted as a first year experience which promoted hands on teaching and learning and small class sizes. Sounds ideal right? Well it wasn't. We took field trips to the woods to sketch what we saw. And one of my teachers told the class there was feces in tap water. There were no tests and almost all assignments were group projects. We also had reflection papers for literally every single thing that we did in that class. You showed up to class? Write a reflection paper on your experience. You read a one page article on global warming? Write a five page reflection. You took a field trip to a farm and took a hay ride? Write a reflective memoir. So you get the gist, it's basically like middle school but you pay thousands of dollars for it. And not middle school like the academic part, but middle school when everyone is trying to figure out who they are and going through puberty at the same time. So I guess you could say that Cornerstones was like going through puberty.

From the Mason website. None of this happened in real life.

What Cornerstones was really like. 

Anyway, I promptly dropped out of the program after my first year experience was over. I mean who wants to go through puberty more than two times? Cornerstones emails students information about the university. (Did you like the transition between thoughts?) This past semester I received another email from the bleeding hearts that are Cornerstones. It was about an internship. The internship is called the Study of the United States Institute. SUSI. I thought it was pronounced sushi, like the dish, but it's Susie, like the person. The email described SUSI as a program which allowed students from Bolivia, Peru and another country which I can't remember, maybe Paraguay, to come to George Mason and learn about leadership and community development and familiarize themselves with American government. A requirement was that interns and mentors be able to speak fluent spanish.

So maybe it was my latin blood that drew me to this internship. But I filled out the application, I interviewed and I received a position. A little less than a month ago, there was an orientation for this institute. I pictured the orientation going a little bit like this: Hello, this is what the institute aims to do, these are your responsibilities, these are the activities, this is the mission statement of our program, these are the logistics, and this is a schedule.

This is how the orientation went: Sorry I gave you the wrong room number, glad you found the place. The man in charge is running late. Here is a packet, read it in silence while we wait. (20 minutes later) Okay, he's not showing up, let's get started. Here's the schedule, read it in silence. (15 minutes later) Man shows up. "We are going to have to change everything, there need to be major changes, the funding has changed. Change the schedule now. Do we have a 90 person reservation for the last meal? How do you connect to the internet? Let's find an ethernet cord." (30 minutes later) This is main thing we need to discuss, it breaks my heart to have to say this, but it is a rule, I just wish it wasn't this way. You can't fall in love during this internship. Also no alcohol. Meeting over.

So I walked away from this orientation not knowing what the heck SUSI does. And also being told that I can't fall in love. I don't have an issue with that instruction. I do, however, have an issue with the fact that these people think that falling in love is something which undoubtedly happens and needs to be addressed. That's when I realized that this internship was going to be like puberty all over again.

So those are a few of the reasons why I'm dreading the beginning of this internship. Also, I lost the folder they gave me during orientation. Oops. And another also, the people let us know very last minute that we weren't going to be staying at the hotel on campus and that we had to find our own housing. So I am going to be doing a lot of house jumping.

I'm leaving tomorrow morning. There are a few things that I have done to prepare myself for the upcoming weeks.

Stress relief and quiet moments tea, necessary.

I've drank a lot of stress relief tea. And a lot of Cozy Chamomile in hopes my stress toward this internship will be relieved and that I may have quiet moments. Didn't know tea could do this, did ya?

Last supper...at home (not funny right?)

My mom prepared me my final home cooked meal for a while. It's ethnic. My latin blood got me into this, and it'll get me through this. Maybe something I should do tonight is pack. 

Can't wait for the awkwardness and general chaos that will begin tomorrow!