Grown Up Goggles

I did what I told myself I wouldn’t do.


Of course, this is part of being human. How many thousands of people tell themselves that they’re going to lay off the cookies around holiday season, only to realize they’ve gained 10 pounds by New Years? How many people vow never to smoke, and then yet end up doing so anyway? Having expectations for ourselves is part of the human condition. Some people have too many, some people don’t have enough. Either way, we are all guilty of not meeting some of the ones that we set.

I guess in the grand scheme of things, it’s not too bad. It’s not like anyone got hurt. I just haven’t updated this puppy in a long time.
It’s not that I’ve stopped writing. I haven’t. I just haven’t published any of it. It seems too fragile, too cloudy and wispy. Essentially what I’m saying is that there’s no meat to anything that comes forth from my fingers anymore. Living a life where everyday you know that you are making a difference in the peoples lives around you, and coming back and sinking yourself in the isolated, crazy-hopping fastness of the American lifestyle: if makes life feel not as purposeful and thoughts not as…meaty.
I’m in the process of rediscovering the small joys in life, however insignificant they might be. It sounds strange, but I feel like I’ve lost my perspective. That’s like saying “I think I’ve lost my fingerprint” Isn’t a perspective something that is completely and uniquely your own? Well mine is missing. It used to be kinda quirky, somewhat insightful, and usually childlike in nature. Upon re-entry to life in the states, I feel like someone has hot-glued on some “grown-up goggles” to my face (no, no, no, not beer goggles…those are different).

Bills, rent, weekly grocery shopping, meal planning, two part-time jobs, full time grad school, exercise, general wellness?!?! what is this life?


Maybe they’ll crack.
Maybe I’ll sweat enough for the hot glue to lose its stickiness.
Or maybe someone or something will come along and just rip them off my face.

Dear Pappy...

I'm a teacher now. I told my students about you today. I passed around this picture of that time you and Grandma came to visit for my high school graduation. They all said that you look like a very friendly man. I told them about your love of gardening, and that you were a coal miner. They really identified with that as many of their parents are coal miners too. I told them about the peppers in your garden and all the vegetables and how we would pick them and eat them. I told them about how you built the house that you spent so many years of life in; they couldn't believe it. I also told them about how you would always take us to McDonald's, and how we would always come home from your house with a Beanie Baby, even though they were the stupidest things ever. I think you would really like my students. I know that they would adore you. Sometimes I daydream about what it would be like if you walked through the door while I was teaching someday. You'd probably have your picture taken more than you could handle, but I'm sure you would distribute the greatest free hugs they would ever receive in their lifetime.

I remember how you fell in love with Messiah the first time you came out to visit me. You were super impressed with the brickwork along the walkway. You, of all people, would know how that's done. You were genuinely impressed with the place and genuinely happy for me and I knew then and there that I was going to be ok: it had Pappy-approval.

Sometimes, it makes me really sad to think that my whole experience with China happened after you left. I never got to run it by you {although now that I think about it, you probably would have killed me} or share with you how much China means to me. I'm a really different person than who you last remember me as. I recognize now that I had so much to learn from you. I kinda blew that opportunity, I guess. I always did enjoy talking to you, more so I enjoyed listening to you. You just knew everything. Those early mornings at the breakfast table I'd watch you get fired up about politics or the latest happenings in town, and I knew that people should never mess with you. You're tough, Pap. I know we'd be great friends.

You would never admit this, but you're a hero. In fact, if I told you that you were a hero you'd probably tell me to "keep my trap shut" and punch my arm in the kindest and most loving way possible.

I still think about the last conversation we ever had. Granted, you were in a hospital bed, and I was on the other side of the state curled up in a fluffy chair. I think about that conversation every now and then, and you'd probably roll your eyes at me from all the drama that's ensued from that. You were never really one for drama, quite the king of keeping things real; it's a gift that you had. I'm growing into that, too. Maybe it's a genetic that just needs time to reveal itself. I want you to know that I'll never forget the last words that you said to me, and if anyone tries to mess with your granddaughter I'm pretty sure you'll come haunt them from the grave. I wouldn't put it past you. And I would hope that that threat would scare the shit out of whoever they are, because they don't know who they're dealing with.

Every once and awhile I write you a letter, just to let you know what's happening in my life [as if you don't know]. I know you'll never get them, but it makes me feel less crazy than just talking to you.

Just so you know, Grandma is still madly and deeply in love with you. We're taking care of her as best we can, but you seem to be the only thing in this world that truly made her happy. I guess it goes to show what and awesome and respected man you were. You two lovebirds…

I just wanted to remind you that I love you and I always will. 
There will never be another man like you in my life.

Always,

your Kayla Marie

Electrifying

Contrary to popular belief, I actually do have a little spare time on my hands while being in China. So I have this love of reading. My Kindle has been one of the greatest investments I ever made for myself for being abroad, and for my life. I'm currently in the process of reading a book entitled "Barefoot Church". I recommend it. I recommend reading Shane Claiborne's "Irresistible Revolutions" first, then read "Barefoot Church". You may not agree with all the points made, but it will certainly give you a lot to chew on.
I could go on and on about reading, but I won't. I just love it. I also have this love of being creative. The cool thing about blogging is that they incorporate both. Reading the writing of others inspires creativity, and admiring others creativity spurs on more creativity and all-around goodness. So I've spent some time recently browsing blogs and the writings of others, those who are my age, those who are in different areas of life, in different areas of the world. I couldn't help but notice a few things.

1: there is such a huge emphasis on possessions, things that people want that are on a "wish list" for the future or things [physical things] their lives will be incomplete without.
2: there is such a huge emphasis on self-empowerment and self-promotion.
3: there is such a huge emphasis on dating, finding true love, and giving anyone and everything a try.

1: I think the reality of how different my life is just hit. In fact, looking at these blogs and looking at these themes makes me nothing but sad. It makes me want to grab people by the shoulders and shake them in the most kind and loving way, awaking them to a greater reality and richness to life. Really? A wish list for the top ten purses you hope to own some day? This is what consumes your mind and your thoughts? I have a friend who is currently working in Palestine, witnessing modern-day Apartheid first hand. I guarantee you that purses are the last thing on her mind.
I understand that people have different values. Even here, on team, it's evident that we each have different priorities and values in our lives, which when working together compliment each other well. There is a richness in living life with people who are willing to give up everything they have for serving others. Yes, we have possessions and things to get by, we certainly do not go without, but people always come first. Our wish lists consist of opportunities to have significant conversations with students

2: In all honesty, I haven't been in a Barnes & Noble in 9 months, but I know that if you do go there it's clear to see that a primary focus of publishing companies is to feed into the narcissism of society and the betterment of self.  Again, I think about this and it makes me nothing but sad.  Who are you trying to impress? I would so much rather be looked upon with favor by the homeless population than any boss I ever work for. True greatness comes from humbling yourself but that idea and mindset is so against the norm of what we're told to believe it makes no logical sense. Society is telling and people are believing that they are the only ones who can help themselves. I know I would be laughed at if I piped up to say "that's not true", but the reality is that they probably wouldn't even hear me because their heads are too deep in the get-yourself-ready-for-a-boyfriend-without-needing-botox books. Unfortunately so many of them (mostly women) are trying to to prepare themselves for #3.

3: I don't really want to touch this one because I still have so many questions and moments of simply shaking my head, but I feel like I have to, so I'll be as brief as possible. How is that society has twisted our thinking to believe that you're not successful if you're single? How is it that in order to be deemed as worthy of having something to say, you must have a significant other in order for your voice to be heard? Most importantly, where is this pressure coming from? I'm not a hippie [although i do love me a good tie-dye shirt], but I proudly proclaim "let go and live". I simply cannot understand why so many women and men for that matter are simply consumed with finding a partner in order to fulfill their place in the world. The truth is that you still have a place in this world without that significant, so use the place that you have!  Sorry, that's my two second rant.

Culture shock is going to be electrifying.
Oh society, I have a bone to pick with you when I come back.

Long Story Short

My original thought:
"Surely I can have one blog that is devoted to purely China, and one blog that is about being a young adult."

That's just the issue. I cannot simply be "China" and be a "young adult" as two separate things. I originally thought that China would be an adventure, and though it certainly is that, it is not just a stand-alone adventure. It is an intricate and meaningful part of the story of this young adult. It will forever continue to be a a crucial chapter, causing significant turnings in the story of "life". To separate the two would be a complete disservice to both, creating a catch-22 of sorts. Neither story would be completely satisfied without the other. The person in China and the young adult need each other to best serve and interact with the surrounding people, both in China and in America. Now looking in hindsight, i realize the ridiculousness of the original thought as I truly had no idea how these 11 months would be changing me and my story.

Speaking of story, I recently read a phenomenal book that I highly recommend everyone to read. Pronto. You see there is this famous author named Donald Miller who wrote a famous book. People then wanted to make a movie out of it so as they are going through the movie-making process, he writes another book about the things he learns along the way. It's really quite intriguing and he does a fabulous job at articulating parts of humanity that we all intrinsically know, but have never spoken. The book is called "A Million Miles In A Thousand Years". It's a quick read, it'll probably take you four hours total. Just a chapter a night [well, you'll want to read more than one at a time…].

It's got me thinking a lot about story, which seems to be a major concept of life in this semester. You see, we're building a curriculum based off of story, teaching second language learners to tell their story, incorporate story in their everyday lives, and recognize the story of others. The theme of each class is illustrated in another story, usually [well, always] a parable from the books of Matthew, Mark, or Luke. It's been a fabulous opportunity for me as a teacher to re-evaluate these stories and tell them in my own way, and it's served as a wonderful teaching tool in class to have students engaging with language they rarely use.

Anyways, you'll be hearing more about that at another time I'm sure. Long story short (haha), read the book and tell me what you think!

Dream Story: Romance & Escalators

So a friend of mine has some occasional blog entries with dreams that she has had. Literal dreams. Very rarely do I remember my dreams, but I told myself, “Self, if you happen to remember one, write it down.”

It was a weird one. But I told myself I would.  So that’s what I’m doing.

I was going to teach my pronunciation and phonetics course. In my hands I carried a lesson plan and a romance novel. I had an entire lesson planned, talking about vowel sounds, the international phonetic alphabet, and activities for them to do. I got to class and instead chose to read to them from the romance novel [mind you, I’ve never read a romance novel in my life…]. The class began with them fully engaged, but as fifteen, thirty, forty minutes passed they lost interest, throwing paper planes and texting on their phones. Even though I was aware of this I didn’t stop them or try to get their attention… I just kept reading. The bell sounded for a 5-minute break and something snapped in me, remembering the original lesson plan that was prepared.

“Class”, I said, “use this 5 minutes to prepare. When I come back, you’re going to have a little quiz”. And with that I darted out of the room.

I “remembered” that I had left their quizzes and their homework on my desk in the office. I was running down the hall to grab it, but my legs were an extra twenty pounds heavier. No matter how long of strides that I took, I couldn’t seem to reach the office. I tried to take a different route. I hung right. Instead of the corridor that is usually there, I entered a shopping mall, complete with people of all ethnicities, ages, and languages. I had to get to the office. I rounded corners, dodging babies in strollers and people with bulging bags.

I came to an escalator. Something in me told me that what I really wanted was so close. Something familiar and something that I needed was nearby. I quickly glanced all around, frantic, and hoping to find it. I wasn’t satisfied. In a panic I hopped on the escalator going down. I rode it for a long long time. Getting impatient, I began charging down, hopping over babies and diaper bags. I was still in the mall, so I chose an ally of stores to pursue. As I kept looking the crowd became less and less dense. I came upon my team leader, Dan, who was window shopping at what seemed to be a medieval sorcery store [which, if you know Dan, is not surprising at all.]. Panting and weak-legged I asked him in a super desperate manor “Dan, where is God?”

Super casually, Dan pointed upstairs. “Oh Kayla, you just missed Him. If you go up the escalator and hang right, His place is right on the end of the hallway.”

…and then I woke up.

Whats gotten into me?

I told myself i wouldn't do it. I told myself that I wouldn't let a month go by without updating my personal blog. Not while in China, because China is personal.

But I did it. I slipped up. I failed my personal expectations. It wouldn't be the first time.

But then I was looking upon some other writings and things of the like, and I realized that they are more personal in nature. And my mommy always tole me to share. So I figured I would do just that. In case you haven't gotten a chance to read up on what's happening on this side of the world, THIS is my life from January, and THIS is my life from February.

I'll do better next time, I promise.