Happily Ever After

I went to my friend's grandparent's village for their anniversary over the weekend. It was awesome to meet a couple that had been together 60 years. I want that kind of marriage, the one that lasts forever. Yep, I'm one of those girls who is obsessed with having my fairytale ending. And, I am convinced that I will get it. Like I said in an earlier post, I am a princess. Shouldn't all princesses get a perfect prince and a happily ever after? Anyway, I realized it had been a while, and I needed to post something. So, let me know, do you plan on living a fairytale too?

The Life of a Princess

"As you wish...!!!"
So comes the voice of Westley as he rolls down a hill after being pushed by his one true love, Buttercup. This is followed by her realization that the bandit she had just slapped was actually saving her. She then proceeds to tumble down after him. (I was meaning to insert a cute picture from the movie here, but due to some technical difficulties you will  simply have to google images of westley and buttercup.)
This is just one scene of The Princess Bride, one of my all time favorite movies. If you have seen it, then no doubt you share in my love of it, and if you haven't seen it, then you must immediately stop reading this blog and go find a friend who will let you borrow their DVD. At least look for as much of it as you can find on youtube. I gaurantee you will find it filled with swordfights, laugter, true love and other wonderful things.
Maybe it's just me, but I love those princess movies and chick flicks. I am one of those girls who loves to dress up and will wear a dress whenever I get a chance. My quince (fifteenth birthday party) was so great simply because I got to wear a big dress and crown and be called and treated like a princess.

This is for once, my own pictue. :) So, if you click there will be no link to follow.

Yet here comes the even better part: I don't have to pretend. I am a princess.
Possibly you are laughing at me right now, but I can assure you I am serious. My Father is a King. Not just any king, He is the King of Kings. He rules the whole world, and I was adopted into His family and am now His princess.
So, while it is a lot of fun to dress up like a princess and remake the trailer of Princess Bride, I don't have to pretend. I am a princess, and my Father is the King.

Things I learn in Science Class....

Picture this only orange. Except, the drawing looks more like this:

Just not as cute, and with glasses and braces and spikes that are supposed to make it look like a pine cone. 

Now you must be asking what in the world I am talking about. This is what I was eventually turned into in science class today. An orange bear-pine cone. Yeah. I know, weird.

This creature is a mix of "Not the sharpest carrot in the garden," "not the bear with the sharpest teethe," " and something about the least pointy pine cone in the forest".

Sadly, I don't even remember what stupid thing I did to deserve these cruel comments. Plus being told that if I grew a beard I would look like my teacher. And reminded that I had accidentally called myself a guy the day before (although that was not at all what I meant and they all know it!) and a few more insulting comments. 

That mixed with how badly my teeth hurt from the spacers that I got stuck in between them to prepare me for the actual braces on Monday, and not being able to eat breakfast, and being late to school, and getting lunch detention because of being late, and the crazy unnatural cold morning, and the everlasting tortures that come with school- have not exactly given me the best day of my life. Oh well, now is when I listen to my old blog entry and shake away my bad mood and dance in the rain.

By the way, you should be able to click on the pictures to find out where I got them.

Refuge and Pandas

Psalms 46:1 is one of my all time favorite verses. It speaks about God as our refuge, our protector. This verse means so much to me, makes me feel so comforted. Maybe I am a freak, but I do still sleep with a teddy bear. A panda to be exact. A panda I got when I was five, and have had ever since, and his name is Panda. I know, I was a creative little kid. Throughout my life of constant moves and too many houses to count, this panda has been to all my houses. He has laid in my arms in all the beds I've had since I can remember. And it's comforting to carry around something that hasn't left or been taken away.

And, my little panda is not the only one who has accompanied me throughout my life. So has God. He is my refuge, and he hasn't left me and never will. He was here long before my bear, and he will stay here long after the stuffed animal begins to fall apart and be forgotten. My God will never leave. He is my refuge, He is my comforter.

Slavery

So, in history we have reached the section in America's history where slavery was dominant. Honestly, this makes me so mad! How could anyone convince themselves that it was okay to call someone inferior, to treat them as property simply because of their skin? It disgusts me, sickens me, makes me want to punch someone. Instead, I wrote a poem, but this poem doesn't even begin to cover what slavery was like or how I feel about it. Anyway, here it is:

Too many people on too small a ship;
Tears roll like rain at each crack of the whip.
United they wait for false scales to tip,
Desperate they hope that their fortunes will flip.


Day in and day out they stare at the door,
Yet still the master gives one order more-
Forever they’re faced with some other chore;
Always a new owner to struggle for.


And each hard day turns to one more cold night,
And at the end there is no strength to fight.
So they are left only dreams of their flight,
Yet they hold to those dreams with all their might.


Years later their child looks back with despair,
For this “great nation” was built on unfair.
So cruel is the world that should have stopped there
With the first captured slave’s desolate prayer.

I'm From

I’m from everywhere and from nowhere. I’m from the smell of vanilla pines, the vibrant blues of the sky, the minty aroma of sage in the air, the crunch of fallen pine cones, the blur of a crow darting between the trees, the deer in the backyard, the beautiful tree house, the itchy hayrides through camp, the sparkling of the river swimming past. I’m from the humidity of a rainforest, the dripping of rain drops, the chirping of frogs and bird, the motionless “killer sloth”, the huge butterfly pavilions, the sandy beaches, the turtles being hatched, the waves against my feet, the sand castles, the sounds of a quiet hotel. I’m from the bustling city with too many people and too much noise, the car rides made up of a series of stop and go, the yelling of whichever parent had to drive that day, the constant grey and brown sky, the noise of talking and honking and barking dogs that never went away. I’m from the little house under the power lines that looked out over the old town, the humming of electricity soaring above our heads, the pigs in the backyard, the sheep being herded past our gate each morning, the brightly coloured piñatas, the half hour taxi rides to school every day, the countless dogs that died of rat poison. I’m from the tiring walks to and from school, the apartment we somehow fit into, the pool I never used, the neon green of my soccer shirt, the pain of being hit in the face with a ball, the joy of reaching the top of our three flights of stairs and flopping down onto the couch or my bed. I’m from the land that is unbelievably green half the year and completely dead the rest, the birds that fly around in front of my window, the house that’s bigger than any we’ve ever had, the tourist attractions I see every day, the cacti and palm trees, the slight humidity I no longer feel.

I’m from burning up to freezing. I’m from the days when the only way to keep from melting is by standing barefoot on tile floors in front of a fan blowing full blast wearing only shorts and a tank top and drinking cold coke with ice in it. I’m from the agony of walking home after school when with each step I feel my skin falling off behind me in huge drops of sweat. I’m from trying to answer a test when all I can think is how much I need a chunk of ice. I’m from pulling on layers of clothes that have all come from who knows where and preparing to go meet the snow. I’m from snowball fights and failed attempts at building snowmen. I’m from red noses and aching ears. I’m from gloves and hats that never stay on. I’m from sledding down a hill and the long walk back up. I’m from sitting inside bundled up in blankets in front of the fire drinking hot chocolate to try and warm up.

I’m from all my favourite foods from all over the world. I’m from tacos Al’ Pastor, which are supposed to be made from pork. I’m from the tanginess of licking lemon off my fingers after preparing my food. I’m from the bubbles fighting their way down my throat as I take a big swish of real coke from a glass bottle. I’m from enchiladas and tortas and mole and rice and tortillas and albondigas and Styrofoam plates. I’m from long tables and people eating with their fingers. I’m from everyone at church stuffing themselves with pasta and soup and chicharrones. I’m from jamaica and chapulines and tlayudas. I’m from Taco Bell, which is not Mexican. I’m from Wendy’s and Fazolis and Casa Bonita and buffets and best of all, Dairy Queen. I’m from casseroles with who knows what stuffed inside. I’m from amazing thanksgiving dinners, with too much turkey and mashed potatoes and cranberries and sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. I’m from hot dogs and hamburgers and sloppy Joes and steaks and barbeques. I’m from ice-cream, lots of ice-cream and dessert and junk. I’m from Mexican food in the US and American food in Mexico.

I’m from being the best English student in a class meant for Mexicans to being the best Spanish student in a class meant for Americans. I’m from the struggle of trying to speak a language I don’t understand. I’m from “Abre mis ojos oh Cristo,” the first Spanish song I learned. I’m from good old chilango slang such as naco and simon and camara. I’m from improving my accent until I was told I had none. I’m from wondering what it meant when my classmates called me chismosa. I’m from going back to a world of English, where I miss the smooth musical notes of the Spanish vowels. I’m from accidentally speaking Spanish when I am with a group of Americans. I’m from days of translating and the sore throat that follows. I’m from that lovely mix that comes out when I’m with fellow missionary friends, the beautiful Spanglish. I’m from laughing as others try to figure out what language I’m speaking.

I’m from the contrast of two very different worlds. I’m from living next to neighbours who had nothing and yet were filled with generosity. I’m from giving blankets out to homeless people on Christmas. I’m from sitting in a village where the family might not even get enough to eat, yet they urge me to take another tortilla and to drink more coke and coffee. I’m from a church of people who have too much for their own good. I’m from walking through a four story house with hidden secret passages and a bedroom as big as my house. I’m from seeing people with body guards and two year olds with i-pads. I’m from hearing the word “poor” used in the wrong places, because I know what poverty looks like. I’m from somewhere between the two, sometimes feeling ridiculously rich and spoiled compared to those around me, and sometimes feeling as though I have nothing.

I’m from crushing tears and levitating joy. I’m from those nights spent with my face buried in my striped blue pillow trying to smother the water pouring from my closed eyes. I’m from throwing stuffed animals across the room. I’m from furiously scribbling my feelings onto a piece of paper that will probably never be read. I’m from holding my ears to block out the sound of yelling and arguing. I’m from that mixture of relief and not being done yet when I start to calm down and smile again. I’m from days with friends when I can’t stop laughing. I’m from jumping up and down with excitement. I’m from searching for words better than ecstatic to describe how I feel. I’m from cheeks that are so sore and exhausted from too much smiling.
I’m from seeing so many different levels of religion. I’m from sitting in a youth group in the states and seeing kids sitting in the back passing notes and not even pretending to pay attention. I’m from that girl at school who openly admits to cutting and drugs and sneaking out of the house and many boyfriends, and then told me one day she was a Christian. I’m from not being allowed to say “Merry Christmas”, because it’s too religious and might offend all those atheists at my school. I’m from going to a school with eighty kids in my grade, and maybe fifteen in youth group. I’m from being in a youth group where everyone sat as far forward as possible, and Wednesdays were the highlight of everyone’s week. I’m from music where we all sang our loudest and lifted our hands and clapped. I’m from a school with twenty-five kids in high school, and thirty-five kids in youth group. I’m from a school where we have chapel on Fridays and get candy for bringing our Bibles and wearing ties. I’m from memorizing the first four chapters of Romans for extra-credit. I’m from a school where Jesus reigns.

I’m from the earthly doubts that sometimes fill my mind and from the conviction and certainty of my Lord. I’m from sitting on my bed reading the Old Testament and struggling because I don’t understand how God could kill so many people. I’m from speechlessly listening as my classmates argue over what the Bible might mean. I’m from those glorious moments when it makes sense, and I know what I believe. I’m from sitting on a rock watching a lizard do push ups while I realize that only God could ever have created this. I’m from tears of joy falling down my cheeks at camp as I once again feel my Saviour’s love. I’m from knowing that all these things I don’t understand are understood by Him, and that’s all that matters. I’m from my King. 

Penguins and the effects of global warming

Boom! Kapao!
Explosions everywhere! The world is exploding! How much longer until all is lost? Is there no hope at all?

So, maybe I'm getting a little carried away here. Maybe the world is not going to suddenly erupt into violent flames that will destroy all life on Earth. Except, of course, for the fat penguins who are going to take over the universe sometime in the near future.

But, you never know. As we speak, there could be a dramatic growth of fat penguins all over the South Pole. There could be a strangely smart penguin who is plotting revenge on the world right now. Revenge for what? For global warming, which could be causing all the ice to melt.

When it does, the penguins will swim across the oceans to every continent, starting with Australia. They will slowly find ways to destroy the human population, pulverize all plant life and mantain only a huge aquarium with their favorite fish.

When all has been killed, the penguins will commandeer a few rockets, space shuttles, space ships and UFOs. They will shoot off into space, leaving a few kamikaze penguins to set off the nuclear bombs and such that will successfully bring the whole planet to ruins.

Probably, this will never happen. But you never know. It could happen. It could already have begun.

Will you survive?

Game over. You did not survive.

These weren't the exact words, but I got a similar message after taking this Hunger Games test. For those of you who haven't heard about this book, you should read it. Well, read all three of them, actually. But, anyway, I did not survive the Hunger Games, according to this test. Why not? Because I am way too unagressive.

I spent the last ten minutes of science class listening to five guys talk about different types of guns. Exciting, huh? Not really, I honestly have no interest in firearms. Which is one of the reasons I would be one of the first to die in the infamous Hunger Games.

But, would I want to survive? Ignoring all the consequences the victor tributes in the book face, what would it be like to be a survivor? To know that 23 other kids died so that you could be the one to live. But is it really living if you have to drown out the memory of the people you helped murder?

And besides, I have to ask. Do you really just want to survive? Is surviving enough? In my opinion, I would much rather live. Really live. Taking every moment and living it to the fullest. I do not want to be a survivor.

What about you, will you survive?

Sleep

I love sleep. Seriously. I do.

I mean, my self prescribed bedtime is around 9. And yet, it isn't early enough. I wake up at 6, or between 7 and 8 on weekends. Still, I need all those 9 to 10 hours of sleep. Really I do. I mean, if you don't sleep you can't have weird dreams about standing in really tall grass or killing people.

Another benefit of sleep is laying in my wonderful bed covered with blankets with a fan blowing into my face. I could sleep forever.

Why am I writing about sleep? Possibly because my last class was biology, and I was half asleep for half the class. I think the teacher was talking about land fills while I listened to the darkness behind my closed eyes. But then again, as I was really only listening for the sound of my name, I can't be completely sure.

Anyway, as the week continues to drag on, I encourage you all to sleep- at least for a little bit. Maybe you will suddenly realize you love it just as much as me. ;)

Days

And so, with this yet another day goes by. Well, it isn't actually gone yet, but the school part is. What an exciting life I live, filled with the joys of tests. Which, by the way, I got a 56%, and that is considered good. Needless to say it's a hard class.

Anyway, I would like to let you know, if any of you care, I am doing much better. Seriously, you need to realize how nice it is to be able to breathe without making a concious effort at all times. So, stupid asthma, you have been temporarily defeated.

I believe I have no new updates... but I must leave now to go write a story about an elevator. I promised a friend that it WAS possible to write a good story written in first person from the point of view of an elevator. I now need to go prove my point.

Mad at Blog

So, I can't comment on any blogs. I don't know why. Everytime I click on "view blog" or type the title of a blog into the search bar, I get logged out of my account. And it bugs me. :(
Anyone have any ideas of why my computer hates me so much?
I really want to be able to you know, comment....

Sick Days

Five hours. Do you realize how long that is? Especially for a fifteen year old girl who is sitting in the hospital breathing in gasses that hold medicine that is supposed to cure her and make her feel better. However, obviosuly the medicine isn't as good as they say. Otherwise, I would have gotten away with one dose, not five. But instead I sat and sat and sat, breathing and watching smoke rise up from the little mask on my face (and by the way, I still have lines on my face from where the mask pressed against my face).

Even with Suzanne Collins' book the Hunger Games, I was ridiculously bored. I finished the second book, read a couple chapters of the third. I even stopped between books to guess what would happen in the next book before I began reading.

So, now I am home again, and my breathing is still not 100% normal, although at this point I don't even remember what normal is. And I am bored, again. And no, I will not continue reading because, even though I was not reading the whole five hours, three or so hours is still a long time to read. And frankly, I'm sick of reading. And I don't want to do any of the homework that is heaped in a pile beside my bed. I mean, I know I would normally be sitting in history class right now. But since I'm not, it seems perfectly ridiculous to even consider reading the history chapter (which should have been finished yesterday).

Instead, I'll find some other way of entertaining myself before finally giving in to the dreaded school. Although, I remain convinced that school would have been better than sitting in a hospital trying to remember how to breathe.

Hearts

I was looking at a friend's pictures, and she had a bunch of hearts. You know, those heart shaped rocks and pickles and leaves? She even found one of a heart shaped spot in an aspen (my favorite kind of tree, by the way) and it was so pretty.

And I realized, God really does show His love for us in all His creation. I mean, go to Google images and type in hearts in nature or something similar. Sure, some of the pictures are photoshopped, but it's still pretty awesome.

We live in a world of love. When Jesus said the greatest commands were to love God and love your neighbor (Matthew 22:34-40), he wasn't kidding. Love is everywhere. take a minute to think about how much Jesus loves you. How much he did for you. And then, realize we are supposed to go and love others with this same love.

Viva Mexico

Happy Birthday Mexico! 201 years old. I felt very Mexican over the weekend, getting all decked out in green, white and red. then, listening to the national anthem and hearing praise songs. then the Grito. And even though I wasn't thinking about Mexico's Independence at the time, it was still cool to be there. to hear the names of those heroes being called out. to see the fireworks and watch the confetti. to feel like a part of Mexico, even if it is a very insignificant part. I felt proud to be part Mexican. Proud to be an MK. Even if it means going to places I don't want to go and forcing myself to eat soup that tastes nasty! Anyway, VIVA MEXICO!!

Brains

Maybe my mind looks a little bit like this right now. Hectic, crazy, out of control. But, at the same time there's an element of beauty. A promise of something better. And, below the storm, the houses are safe. Free from the impending danger. It's gorgeous, really. In fact, I think the tornado just completes it, makes the scene final and perfect. Of course, the tornado is there. Ready to turn around just a tiny bit and crush the cute little town. This picture is still pretty.

 My mind looks not so nice. It's harder to find the beauty here in the depths of my brain. Think of the tornado. Just the tornado. No rainbows or houses or green grass. Just a big tornado. It's harder to find the beauty here. Especially if you're the one that's stuck anywhere near this storm. And yes, my mind does feel like this. There is a mass of thoughts bundling up inside of me. So many thoughts that I'm afraid they are going to start a rebellion. Join together and form a tornado. And then, well, I'm history. Either that or I can just go along. Let the winds of my ideas pick me up and take me with them. It would be nice to see where I end up. 

Barbie

Yeah, I know this isn't a real barbie, but you get my point, right?

I don't know about you, but when I hear the word Barbie I think fake. Plastic. I think of the "popular" girls in movies who have no identity. Everything they do is fake, is meant simply for pleasing others, or not.
Recently a guy at school called me Barbie. If it hadn't been this guy, who I knew was just saying it because that's the sort of things he does.. I would have been offended. After all, I'm not fake, am I?
Except, when I think about it, aren't all people guilty of fakeness. I mean, honestly, can you say you've never smiled when you didn't want to? Hasn't everyone put on a mask, to hide how they're really feeling? Or, when someone asks "how are you" your answer has been "fine" at least once. And we all know what fine means.
I'm not saying this is a bad thing. But, there has to be an element of honesty. You can't always hide behind your facade of happiness or indifference.
As a Christian, my identity is found in Jesus. By hiding my true character, I am hiding God's character. And that is a bad thing. So, just think about it. Maybe there is a time not to blurt out how you feel and what you're thinking. But there is a time to be real, honest. A time when you should be a person, not a barbie.

Life as an MK

1. Your life story uses the phrase "Then we went to..." five times.  (Ok, so way more than five. More like ten times I think.
2. You think in grams, meters, and liters. ( Duh! Who doesn't?)
3. You don't know where home is.
4. Strangers say they can remember you when you were "this tall." (So annoying!)
5. "Where are you from?" has more than one reasonable answer.
6. You sort your friends by continent. (Not continent, but country, and state.)
7. The nationals say, "Oh, I knew an American once..." and then ask if you know him or her. (It got us out of a ticket once...)
8. Someone bring up the name of a team, and you get the sport wrong.
9. You believe vehemently that football is played with a round, spotted ball. (Yep.)
10. Fitting 15 or more people in a car seems normal to you. (In fact, fitting less than that sometimes feels weird.)
11. You haggle with the checkout clerk for a lower price.
12. Your wardrobe can only handle two seasons: wet and dry. (Yeah, winter, summer, spring, fall, non existent here.)
13. The same individual also has to explain that red lights mean stop *all* the time, without exception, and you must stay stopped *until* they turn green, whether or not there is cross-traffic. ...and you still don't understand why.
14. When you can't get past "Oh, say can you see..." in the national anthem, and you have to watch to see what hand to use. ( And I only remember this because of Jose can you see...)
15. You go to a church you have never been in before and find your picture on their bulletin board.  (Or people I'm sure I've never seen before know everything about me.)

Okay, so I got these from: here. I saw a lot more, and I'm sure I could come up with plenty of my own. Still, these ones stood out because they are either true or mostly true. It doesn't always seem so obvious how different Mexico and the USA are. But, when you think about it... Well, they are quite different. By the way, the stuff in parenthesis is my own words. Hope this made you laugh. :)

Omnisocialists

"I'm an omnisocialist." This comment came from a classmate today during science class. You may be thinking, "What in the world is an omnisocialist?" Well... I'm not sure exactly, in fact, I don't think my friend knew either. At least not completely. It was the product of several things: 1: our teacher saying he was antisocial when he was young and 2: a lesson about herbivores, omnivores and carnivores. What this friend was trying to get at was saying he can be antisocial and likes time to himself, but he is also the life of the party kinda guy.
This comment made me wonder. I remember being to the point of tears this summer because almost all my friends were gone and I needed company. I also remember many times when I wanted nothing more than to be completely alone.
So, does this make me an omnisocialist, too? I guess so. :)
I'm also wondering now, are some people herbisocialists and carnisocialist? If so, what do those mean? Carnisocialist makes me think of socialist eating people... And herbisocialist just sounds weird. Anyway, just thought I'd put that out there for you to think about. Enjoy, and of course, comment.

Rainy Days

No, I did not take this picture. I got it from here. So, if you like this, the credit does not go to me.

In my opinion, everyone has rainy days. No one has a perfect life with no sad, depressing days. Sometimes these days are more common than others. There comes a point when everyone just wants to curl up in a little ball and cry. Am I right? If not, sorry... I can't always be right.
Anyway, what am I trying to say here? No, I am not just giving you random facts of life that you can't do anything about. In reality, I am convincing myself. After having more than one of these rainy days in a row, I've had enough. Too much disappointment is bad for you.
Then I realized something. Yes, it is a fact that you will have bad days. But no, it is not true that there's nothing you can do. You can do something about the rain. Sadly, you can't just miraculously make the rain go away forever- but you can be like this girl in the picture and you can throw away your umbrella (which probably doesn't really work anyway) and you can dance in the rain. Overused phrase? Maybe, but that doesn't mean it isn't true. Seriously, you need to dance. Enjoy life. Sing, smile, life live to the fullest. But above all, when it rains, drop the umbrella and dance!