I’ve kept several journals over the past 4 years, but I’ve always ended up burning them because of the “deep, dark secrets” written within their pages. Most of my journals have been the sappy, Dear Diary-type notebooks that always seem to get girls into trouble. Ever since September 13, 2009, I’ve kept a notebook. It’s not a diary, but is instead a blog-type account of my daily life. It’s in a decorated composition notebook that I carry everywhere with me (which means it contains no revealing information, thank goodness), and I love it.
I had a few laughs reading my thoughts, so I figured it would be interesting to share some of the entries I’ve written over the past two months. I’ll share an old entry or two every day. 
September 15, 2009
What a day! I went to EHS today to eat lunch with Narah. Her birthday was last week, so I brought her a sandwich from Subway. I had fun eating with her (and her friend Betsy), but I HATED being back at high school. I swear, the moment I stepped foot into that building, my mood instantly went sour. Just seeing all those kids there and listening to their conversations just frustrated me.
After lunch, I came home for a bit and then left for school. I only had US History today since it’s Tuesday. I was really uncomfortable during the entire class since I had a stuffy and runny nose and had to breathe through my mouth.
Today was the first day of TCBS! It was, as usual, tons of fun, and I really think Athena liked it too. She’s planning on coming all year. YAY!
On the way home, I noticed this really strange, loud ringing sound coming from my car. I’m driving mom’s car until Dad has time to look at mine.
Thank God we have four cars.
September 16, 2009
It’s “cold” today! The last time I looked at a thermometer, the needle was hovering around 60 degrees! Woo hoo!
I’m sitting in the school parking lot right now, waiting until Bio starts at 1. Driving to school in mom’s stick shift car was scary, especially since I’ve been driving my automatic transmission for the past five months. Oh well, I’m just thankful to have a car of my own. AND other cars as backup.
I’m going to start walking sloooowly over to my class…Be back in 90 minutes!
…and I’m back! Biology is my favorite class. I love that i’s just note-taking and doesn’t involve any participation. Plus, it’s really interesting an I have two girls that I sit by and talk to. Next is Freshman Composition, which is an hour and 40 minutes long. After class, I have to run home and get to church for a WAVE leader meeting.
Fun stuff.
I’m back from Amsterdam!
Shortly after I finished that last post, I was finally able to catch some sleep. But it ended up biting me in the behind.
Last night, I figured that I didn’t need to schedule a wake up call for my 8:00 airport pickup because my iPod has an alarm, so I set the alarm on my iPod (which is in Central Time) for midnight, which would be 7 a.m. in Amsterdam. Then I decided that I should give myself a little more than an hour to get ready and eat breakfast in the morning, so I set the alarm for 11:45. When I woke up to my mom screaming, “MATTIE, IT’S NINE O’CLOCK!!!!” this morning, I realized that I had set my alarm to go off at 11:45 a.m., not 11:45 p.m. So I started crying.
I was supposed to be on that flight. There are two flights from Amsterdam to Minneapolis (and vise versa) every day: the first one is usually the best bet because of possible misconnects in the morning, and this particular flight happened to be wide open. The second flight, which leaves a few hours after the first, was the one my
mom was on, but it was overbooked by several seats. Because I had missed the first flight and the second one was so full, my mom was frantically checking flights on the internet on both Northwest and Delta (which are pretty much the same at this point) to almost every American city! Minneapolis, Detroit, and Memphis (amon
g other cities) were all full. This put me into full-blown panic mode because I didn’t want to have to stay in Amsterdam all by myself!
My mom made preparations for me in case I didn’t make it on her flight to Minneapolis. She contacted a flight attendant on Facebook who was in Amsterdam at the same time as us and she gave me her credit card (and a few euros) so I could buy
a hotel room. Since I’m under 18, I can’t get a room on my own (seems like a stupid rule to me), so I would have had to have her friend buy the room for me with my mom’s credit card…or something like that. We also got directions so that I could take the train from the airport to the hotel, since a taxi ride would have been at least $60. The train ride sounded like the scariest part of this would-be adventure because I’m very, very good at getting lost!
I went to the airport expecting…nothing, really. I didn’t think I’d get on the flight, but I trusted that God would get me home somehow. When the agent at the gate gave me a boarding pass, I was elated!! Not only did I get on the flight, but I managed to snag a business class seat on an overbooked flight! God got me out of yet another
sticky situation.
So now I’m back home, in my room. I had such a fun trip! As you’ll see on my “About” page, I love to travel, even if it’s stressful. My life wouldn’t be the same without these experiences!
It’s four in the morning and I have no hope of falling back into a much-needed sleep. I have nothing to do.
We (my mom and I) got here (Amsterdam) yesterday at 11. Once we got to the hotel, we changed our clothes, checked our email, and drank some coffee. The coffee in the crew lounge of this hotel is fantastic! I had four shots of espresso with tons of cream and sugar, so the fact that I had only gotten 4 hours of sleep that night didn’t really matter. We walked over to the grocery store to grab stuff for dinner (I got Indian food, yogurt, and orange-mango juice) and came back to the hotel for a bit. Then we walked over to a tiny restaurant to grab some amazing Dutch french fries, which were delicious but were a little too greasy and made my stomach really upset. After stuffing ourselves, we went to yet another grocery store for Nutella in a glass jar and then returned to the hotel to catch the shuttle.
http://www.ecovelo.info/category/bike-gallery/page/2/
The shuttle took us downtown, which was really cool. When I was here last month, we borrowed bikes from the hotel and biked around downtown. It was an…interesting…experience. I really enjoyed exercising, getting fresh air, and sight-seeing all at the same time, but I didn’t really like it when I had people crashing into me and then giving me the finger (even though I was trying to stay out of the way). But I love Dutch bikes. They’re so cute!
I really liked taking the shuttle downtown this time because it allowed me to stop and take pictures without running the risk of upsetting Dutch bikers everywhere. Downtown Amsterdam is gorgeous! It’s not a “typical” downtown like Minneapolis or New York, but it has traditional buildings and a beautiful canal!
Once we got back from downtown, we ate the food we bought at the grocery store (which was absolutely delicious) and relaxed in our hotel room. I fell asleep at around 8 or 9, but woke up at midnight thinking it was much, much later. But it wasn’t. And I never fell back asleep. So I’ve been wasting time on the computer for almost five hours now, and I’m getting kind of hungry…what am I supposed to do for the next two hours??
Finding an article in the Star Tribune (one of two popular Twin Cities newspapers) that is not ridiculously slanted to the left is a difficult task. Not only have I achieved just that, but I’ve found an article (from the Opinion section of today’s newspaper) that I actually agree with!
Do yourself a huge favor and read this article. It won’t change your life, but it might preserve your faith in humanity (or maybe just the news industry) just a little bit.
I hate this class.
It’s basically like my seventh grade English class.
My sixteen years have taken me to the ends of the earth. My parents never gave me much “stuff,” but have instead blessed me with many unforgettable experiences. My travels have taught me many things about the world, its people, and its cultures. I have walked past old, limbless men sitting on bridges in Bangkok for hours, holding a tin can with their teeth and praying for a single coin to be dropped by a compassionate passerby. I have played soccer with a young African boy in Dakar, kicking around nothing but a crumpled red Coke can. Though I have seen many things that have impacted my life in more ways than I can count, nothing I have experienced has left as much of an imprint on my mind as my yearly trips to an orphanage atop a mountain in northeastern Burma. The sights, the sounds, and the food of the orphanage intertwine to form one memorable adventure.
The orphanage was like a fortress, a safe haven for children who would not otherwise have a place to call home. The old, white paint hinted to a time when it was clean and umblemished. Dirt and rust ran along the bottom of the aged building, painting it in brown and orange. Home to one hundred children from around the country, it held one hundred small wooden beds. Children wove in and out of each room, enjoying the company of one hundred sisters and brothers. A colossal world map clung to a wall to the left of the entrance, trying to convince the children that San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge resides in Boise, Idaho. In the girls’ rooms, pictures of movie stars and posters with Bible verses covered the spaces above their beds. The meager possessions of each child rested on nightstands, window ledges, and on the ground. Their small boxes contained chipped marbles, old photos, and sometimes one small hair clip or piece of jewelry.
Every time I steped outside, I could hear the sound of overjoyed children running around laughing and singing. The hollow ping of an almost-deflated soccer ball hitting the side of the building, the soft crack of two small marbles bouncing off each other, and the gentle clapping of young girls playing hand-clap games were ever-present at the orphanage. The low hum of a motorcycle or the high-pitched ring of a bicycle bell was always near, a constant reminder of the lack of cars and buses in this small rural town. When I sat in the cool shade of the tree by the showers where I would wash my feet, trying to escape the dirt clinging to my limbs, the sounds of a practicing orchestra drifted down to me through the windows of the third floor of the orphanage.
During dinner, the faint smell of burning garbage laced the air, along with the delicious scent of vegetables being peeled and cooked over an open fire. An orphanage staff member had to do nothing but ring a bell and the children would flock to the cafeteria, a small, two-room building next to the orphanage and the orphanage’s preschool. My mother, brother, and I would always walk the children to their dinner, and then return to the main building to eat our meal in the orphanage director’s cramped apartment. Fresh food was prepared for us every day by the orphanage cooks. Chicken, sweet corn, green vegetables, and handmade French fries awaited us every evening. We would sit in the plastic pink and green chairs at the table to enjoy a wonderful meal with the orphanage’s staff members, appreciating the cooks’ hard work.
Each small and unforgettable detail of the orphanage and the people we have grown to love is etched permanently into my mind. On a bad day, I need to do nothing more than to remember the smiling faces of the children to escape. The people I have met and the stories they have told me has changed my life and how I react to the world around me. Seeing how happy these children are with so little, and how happy they are to live in this big, white fortress they call home has made me thankful for every opportunity and every tangible object I’ve been blessed with. Even when I am old and wrinkled, I know I will never forget this place that I, too, now call home.
It’s times like these that make me wish I had the money to buy a really nice Mac.
The effects on my laptop’s camera are so, so lame.
I’ve always wanted to take a picture of myself in London with some insane blonde curls, a flowery bandana, John Lennon glasses and a yellow sky!! Now my dreams have come true!
A few days ago, I stumbled upon Trey Edward’s blog, Youth of Eternity. I haven’t had the chance to read more than a few of his blog posts, but the ones I have read are great!
Looking for something to read? Trey has an awesome series called “Female Modesty” that reminds me of The Rebelution’s Modesty Survey. I would definitely recommend reading the whole series: Part 1- An Overview, Part 2- Modesty Defined, and Part 3- Modesty’s Effect.
Check it out!
