The Length of Time

   It's been two weeks since I left.  It has to have been.  No, it's been five days.  I can't say I'll ever understand the length of time.  When I stepped off that coach five days ago, exhausted from traveling and anxious to see my new home, I instantly warped to a time zone where each minute was an hour, each hour a day.  It's been five days since I arrived at Capernwray Hall, but so many more in adventures.
   So I live in a castle.  A full-out, stone-walled, wall-papered, decorative-ceiling castle.  The place is incredible.  It's also very clean, the one advantage to having chores every day.  We have a separate dining hall, and a conference center where lectures are held.  At first, it is difficult to navigate the twisting hallways and random staircases, but by this point, I've got it pretty well underway.  Though I've had ample time for it to sink in I still look at the exterior of my home from time to time and think, "Wow, I live in a flippin' castle!" 
    I already have the greatest friends.  Everyone here is friendly and open, there's never a fear when you plop down next to someone new, or ask someone his/her name for the seventh time.  The vibes are great here :)  We have lectures six times a day... yes, six.  It's a lot of note-taking and after getting five and a half hours of sleep it seems even longer, but the information is great.  The schedule is sinking in here and soon, I believe, most everyone will be comfortable living and working like this is their real home. 
    For now that's enough, after all, fifteen hours have past since I started writing this post!  ;)  Toodles 'til next time. 

Tadah - for Those Not Fluent in British: Good Bye

     The day has come.  I leave for England in just over nine hours.  My suitcases are stuffed, my paperwork complete and my nerves on end.  I think I'm set!!  I'm incredibly excited for this yet really nervous and completely unsure of myself.  I am pretty much a wreck.  On the plus side, I'm gonna look cute in England I can just feel it ;)
     I've said nearly all my good byes.  Of course they are never easy, but so far none of them have been too upsetting.  The knowledge that I'll be back in three months is doing the trick.  My friends and family are all prepared to see me go; I've been especially annoying lately to prove how nice it will be to have me gone :D See, that is how loving of a friend I am.
     Alright, I thought this would be a long post but in truth, I don't have much to say.  I'll keep everyone updated as I go!  Wish me luck!!!!

You call them Coworkers I call them Family

       I walked into Cinder's on Kensington for the second time in my life 18 months ago.  The first had been for lunch with my mother, but this was different.  I asked for an application and returned to hand it in.  I was interviewed by an extremely passionate, somewhat intimidating woman whom I've since come to know as the most committed and hard-working boss I can imagine.
      I began as a hostess, seating customers and taking carry-out orders.  After months of asking to serve, my boss finally gave it a shot:)  I learned each day what it meant to truly wait on customers and attend their every need: to suck it up when customers frustrated me and to please every person who sat in my section.
     My incredible family of coworkers guided me through each moment, joking, instructing, advising, and poking fun. They celebrated with me and laughed as I circled the restaurant dancing and singing.  They understood when I made mistakes, and cared enough to forget them.  Finally, they sent me off with best wishes, and the blessing only family can give.
     Cinder's family, you have supported me, grown me, laughed with (and at) me, sung with me (even when you didn't want to,) believed in me, encouraged me and loved me.  I love you all!  Keep the customers happy when I'm gone and remember to work together :D  I'll see y'all soon.

But how will you chew?

     This viable question was raised from my very concerned eight-year-old sister just hours after my wisdom teeth were removed.  She looked up at my swollen face with concern in her eyes and asked.  I told her I already had plenty of teeth for chewing, and besides, the teeth she held in her hand - of course I had kept them - weren't even visible when they were taken out.  They had never served a purpose for me and my tiny mouth.
     I'd woken that morning in the comfort of my bed, wondering what the surgery would be like.  I was apprehensive and a little excited.  Ok, I'll admit right now that I'm not exactly your average Joe.  Who, after all, is excited to get four embedded molars cut and pushed out of her jaw?  I had a different perspective however, because I was determined that I wouldn't be put out during the surgery.   The nurses seemed a little apprehensive when I informed them of this, but they couldn't exactly argue.
     So I stayed awake for the surgery.  It was quite the interesting experience.  I could feel everything they were doing right up until the tooth came out - as far as pressure goes anyways, the pain was numbed out by the ten shots I'd taken to the mouth.  It was kind of neat to experience the surgery, see the reflection in the Doctor's glasses as he cut open my mouth.  He talked me through everything he was doing and while I was a bit distracted, it was still educational.
     Everything after the surgery seemed to go fine.  I took very little pain medication, but when I couldn't sleep I ended up popping a pill (part Advil, part Vicodin) and dozing off.  The next day was a disaster though.  I couldn't keep anything in me, not water, not food.  I threw up at least ten times and my stomach became my enemy.  The pain in my mouth was nothing compared with the dizziness of my head and stomach.  I suffered through the day and most of the night, finally relinquishing my effort to abstain from water as I took an ibuprofen and fell to a restless sleep.
     After being without Vicodin for a full day, my stomach is better.  My mouth is still swollen and I'm not without pain, but anything is better than the havoc the Vicodin wreaked on my digestive system.  I'm trying to rest - rather unsuccessfully - and hoping I'll get better before I work tomorrow.  All in all, it was quite the first surgery.  Let's hope I don't have to go through any others in my lifetime.  And for the reassurance of my lovely sister, I will live to chew again :D

That College Grind...

    It's here.  The time of college applications.  The endless string of online information, questions, essays, work experience, extra curricular activities and financial information.  The hours of sitting in front of a computer screen mindlessly filling out information.   Worse, the hours spent sitting in front of a computer screen racking your brain for unique topics and interesting hooks... anything that'll set you apart from the crowd.  Just in case I haven't made this clear enough: I am NOT having fun.
    If I had the choice to, I would sit down in front of every school I'm applying to and tell them why I'm different.  I would bring my transcript and test scores and I would talk.  I'm very good at talking :D  Unfortunately, even if I do schedule an interview I have to fill out the application anyways.  So here I am.  I am in the process of applying to some of the countries most prestigious Ivy-league schools for free.  I found this amazing program for low-income families that allows students who've done well academically to apply for full-ride scholarships to extremely nice schools.  I am very excited - about the prospect of going to an Ivy-league of course, not applying to one.  It's been an interesting process but I'm almost there.  I only the have the one thing left to do, the most dreaded part... the essays.
    How can a paper possibly do a person justice?  How can I describe all that I am, all that I have come through, accomplished, and long for in 800 words?  Let me just tell you, I am stumped.  Because not only do I have to do that, I have to show how everything I've done, accomplished, and all that I long for is DIFFERENT from what every other college applicant has done and longs for.  It's a tricky piece of writing this college essay.  So I'm using all of you as practice... sorry about that.  I need some way to get back in the hang of writing, even informally.
   This little venting session has been good for me.   I think I might be able to get an alright first draft going that after ten different versions and edits could be something great.  Thanks for the help!

Sloth

   We have an impeccable ability here in America.  We can waste time like it's air.  Pointless habits and addictions encompass our lives.  Laziness grips us tightly.  I, unfortunately, am no exception.  Well at least not as of late.  Usually I have more drive, more motivation.  I accomplish things quickly and move on to the next task.  That me has left.  I am stuck with an unproductive sloth and I have been for the last month.  It's driving me crazy.
    So this is my first move.  Today was the first truly productive day I've had in weeks.  I ran, showered, wrote college application material, worked and now... now I am doing the hardest of all - I'm blogging.  Don't ask me why I find it so hard to blog.  It truly does require a substantial amount of effort.  I can't say I'm fond of things that require a substantial amount of effort... yet here we are.
    Here is one broke, tired, lazy, college girl who is pledging to keep in contact more consistently.  Maybe tomorrow I'll even share a little about my college application stresses.  Who knows?  I'm full of surprises. 
     *I did manage to get senior pictures finally taken in the last month - much to my mother's delight - so I will share a few with you.  If you don't like them, pretend you do :D*

Ede Ou?

    One morning the girls of the trip were woken at 5:40 am.  I won't get into the specific alarm but let's just say it was positively annoying so early in the morning.  Anna - our leader - threatened playing Taylor Swift if we wouldn't get out of bed and so we all grudgingly awoke.  The goal, though we hadn't known it until that morning - was to wake up and follow the life of a woman who worked at the compound.  The workers begin at six, and so did we.  Dishes were the first step.  Scrubbing, rinsing, drying.  All in all not too bad of a job, even at six in the morning.  Next we did laundry.  This was a bit more of a challenge.  The Haitian women have a very strategic system for cleaning their clothing.. one that involves a specific type of scrubbing and a great deal of soap.  Needless to say by the time they finished showing me how to do it and correcting my mistake, my knuckles were raw from the scrubbing.  We finished all of the laundry though and then cooked breakfast. 
     We also did chores like sweeping, mopping, and general tidying.  We hung the clothes on lines to dry.  We cleaned after lunch and stayed up late that night doing dishes.  I began to wonder when - if ever - the Haitian people sleep.  Following them around for a day was a rude awakening.  They work hard... not so hard that they can't ever rest, but harder than we're used to in America.  I get home from an eight hour shift at work and I'm pooped, even yet I've got a substantial amount of money in my pocket.  In Haiti, the women work that hard just to keep their homes in order.  Even yet they insist on joking and playing while they work.  Their humor always made me smile. 
     So after that day I made it a habit to frequently approach them and ask "Ede ou?" ... Help you?  They often laughed me off, knowing how little I would be capable of helping with, but just as often they would nod and give me something to do.  It felt good to know that I was contributing.  Since returning to America I've tried to keep that attitude.  While people rarely slave all day just to tidy their homes, there are definitely ways that we can help those around us.  Whether it be at work, school, home, or the grocery store, an attitude to help will always find opportunity.  Try it out for a day.  Look for places to help and things to do everywhere you go... with everyone you meet.  If anything it will make you grateful for all the ways you don't need help.  We have a lot in America; the great thing is that the more you have, the more you can give.