When The Moon Hits Your Eye

Finally my travels have taken me to where supposedly all roads lead. Oh Roma! Where can I even begin to explain the amazing adventures I have had here? I guess the beginning is a pretty good place to start. I arrived in Rome around 11pm and waited for my luggage for about an hour, it finally came. I searched and searched for the shuttle that was supposed to pick me up to take me to the hostel for another hour. After four calls to the hostel and a ton of confusion, I found the driver. I hopped into the car and he spoke absolutely no English. We had a ball playing charades back and forth with each other, smiling because we had no idea what the other was saying. I starred at the huge orange moon feeling like I could reach out and touch it, grinning profusely, not believing I was there, in Rome. We listened to smooth jazz, and that was the perfect pretext for the events which were about to unfold. I finally arrived at the hostel at around 2am, and headed straight for bed. I spent the first night alone, and was terrified that I would not have anyone in my room at all. Luckily the mosquitoes kept me company as they took their time devising an evil plan to make my life one huge blood bag buffet. I think while I was asleep they carried me to their lair, but I cannot really remember as this happens every night.

In the morning (and by morning I mean late afternoon) when I awoke I got my swim suit on and headed straight to lounge by the pool, once again by my lonesome. Luckily, my friend Annie whom I had met in London wanted to meet for dinner in Roma. So I took the train in, but not after failing a couple of times first. I took the train the wrong way, sat at another station for an hour, until the proper train came and I was able to take the 40 minute ride in. We had pizza and red wine under the twinkling stars and lights of Rome. It was absolutely perfect. I met a couple girls staying at the same hostel while I was waiting at the train, so we stuck together for the evening. At the common outdoor area we met two wonderful Argentinians, whom we laughed with for the rest of the evening. I noticed at the table behind us a group of people laughing and carrying on, and deep down I  had a curious suspicion that fate was to bring us together. I went to bed around 3am, expecting to wake up alone once again.

I opened my eyes in the morning to see a cute, blonde man leaving our all female room, and a girl sleeping in the bed opposite me. I lay there for a second chuckling to myself that he thought he was so sneaky, and then she opened her eyes and looked at me. There was a moment where I felt like I was in the parent trap, she was my twin , and we just found out. In that instant I knew we had somehow known each other our whole lives. She introduced herself as Lola another wonderful Argentinian who happened to speak four languages, and we began to gab as girls do about every possible thing in life. We found out we both sang jazz, blues, and soul, had the same type of parents, loved the same exact simple pleasures (except for salsa music), like salty snacks over sweets, and instantly realized we were long lost sisters separated at birth. From that moment on we were inseparable. We decided to head to the pool for the day and chat some more. We talked about the man I had seen leave the room, and his best friend he had been traveling with. Little did I know these men would soon be thrown into my life, and change my world forever.

Around 3pm I met Niels, and Nicolai where the two sauntered into the pool area and greeted us warmly with smiles and chit chat. Both men were from Denmark and I knew they would be lovely because of Anders, my dear friend whom I had met a few years back in school. We spent the entire day talking about our lives, and our travels, happily soaking up the sun in good company. We stayed out late into the evening talking and laughing hysterically at all of our different types of humor. We had the most intimate and genuine conversations with each other, and I knew we would be spending every waking moment together. Our hanging out was like an addictive drug, and no matter how much of the drug we got, it was never enough, and we wanted more. On this same night I met Molly and Laurie, two mates from Great Britain and we instantly went from a group of four to a perfect group of six. I also decided after I met these two, that British humor is by far the best humor. lqtm (only these two will know what I'm talking about)

Over the next week we were all attached at the hip. We went to St. Peters Basilica together. Naturally my graceful nature never fails to show its presence and the first thing I do in the Basilica is trip and fall. I simply could not stop looking at the splendor of the grand place. High walls full of gold etchings, sculptures depicting the life of Christ, and paintings on the ceilings that were breath taking. I looked like a little kid during Christmas in there, smiling at the wonder of ancient time. I was staring up so much that I tripped over a banister, luckily I caught myself before I hit my face on the ground, but not before Nicolai caught what had happened, and was laughing wishing he had taken a photo. We also went to the Pantheon (where Niels lost a flip flop and had to buy new ones which turned out to be much to small), and ate the most rich gelato ever. Niels and I headed back to the hostel exhausted and in desperate need of food and water, as Nicolai waited for Lola to return from her adventure at the airport.

When the Denmarkians Danish men had to leave we all decided we needed them to go out with a bang. Their bus was to leave at 5am to Venice, and then to Budapest. We thought the best idea was to spend the night in Rome. The six of us left and hiked a hill to get the most amazing view of the city. We spent our moments here reminiscing on our time together, and wishing there was more. Once again time proves itself to me that it does not grow on trees. We all learned so much from each other, how to love, trust, show confidence, be proud of yourself, share lives, live, giggle, allow yourself to get lost, follow your own emotional roller coaster, and most importantly take every moment as precious. We left the beautiful view to head for the Trevi Fountain. Here we spent the next hours talking some more, laughing, (as Molly slept off and on on one of the steps). I threw my coin into the fountain, and it felt like slow motion, it was only  a second or two , but I felt like it fell for eternity. We left for the bus station and after a good hours walk (Nicolai leading the way as Niels dragged the 100 pound suitcase behind him) finally arrived there. Here we danced, laughed some more, and tried to figure out their bus information. When the bus was supposed to come at 5am, it did not. Nor did it come at 5:15am or 5:30am. Obviously the boys started stressing, and panicking. Lola stepped up to the plate, as her usual self and handled everything. We slept on the curb for 50 minutes, and awoke to the hustle and bustle of people going to work, starring at us like the homeless people we were. Going to sleep when the sky is painted with night, and arising only 50 minutes later to glorious dawn was spectacular, especially in good company. We then headed for Termini station to wait in line for tickets for the boys. We could not have asked for a more perfect goodbye until we see  you next time. Lola and I said our last words as the boys headed for the train. We each held each other as if we had been friends for a lifetime. As Lola and I walked away we swam in the same emotion together as we headed back to the hostel, quiet, and reminiscing.

I could write forever about the past week and how absolutely magical it was. I could tell you all about the perfect conversations had, the amazing food, the laughter, and how much of a fairytale it all seemed to be. No matter how I describe it, or explain how the story unfolded, I will never truly be able to articulate the time we shared together. The people I met are in my top ten list of people I have ever met! This experience however, has been the most important, gratifying, and memorable of my life. I have so many places I want to go, and so many friends I long to see again. Luckily, I will see the boys again in January when they visit Los Angeles. I will see Lola again when I plan my trip to her home, and as for Molly and Loz I will see each of them during their gap year. The emotions swimming around inside of me, engulfing every part of my being are like nothing I have ever experienced. I have much to think about, and still much to learn, but I am so lucky to be where I am at this very moment. I am not talking physically, but mentally.

Now as  I await the week ahead of me, I know nothing will compare to the week behind me. I do know that I will meet new people here, and they will be wonderful, simply different than the ones I have just said goodbye to. It is still my goal to ride on the back of someone's Vespa, maybe that will be in the week to come. I owe thanks to God and fate for bringing us all together, and to you all, my friends, for making the time here a phenomenon in my life journey. My dream has come true, I am in Rome, and it has been the best place I have been my entire trip. So I guess I will leave this long blog with something for you to think about, something for you to explore within yourselves. The people you encounter every single day could change your life for the better, but you have to meet them and let them first.

Bonjour Paris!

Saying goodbye to London and hopping on the train to Paris was a much sadder experience than I ever thought it would be. I looked out the window and then I was in tunnel as I was transported under water to France. I was served the smallest meal known to man, with a little bottle of wine. When the train arrived a man offered to help me lift my pack because it weighs 100 pounds (I gladly accepted). People say the metro in Paris is one of the best in the world, well not as good as London! The line I needed to get to my hostel was closed so I had to hike to another. I finally got to the one I needed and got on. I got off where I needed to and followed the signs to the next line which led me out onto the street in a sketchy neighborhood. I quickly went back underground and tried to find where I was supposed to go again, finally I succeeded. I got off at my stop and hailed a taxi. He drove me to my hostel, which was about a five minute walk away from the metro haha oh well at least I wasn't trying to find it in the dark alone.

The Loft is the hostel I am currently staying in. It is only a month new and pretty lovely. My only complaints are there are not any lockers, and my door does not lock. Everything else is wonderful, and I have met great people that I'm rooming with. One of the girls is from Italy and told me two weeks would be wonderful there. She said she would tell me where to go in Rome, what to eat, and how to have a fabulous two weeks!

I have seen and done so much in Paris these past two days it is crazy! On the first day, which was Sunday I saw Moulin Rouge, Champs- Elysees (where we accidentally saw the Tour de France end), Arc de Triomphe, Sacre-Coeur, and Montmartre. Today we went to Notre-Dame Cathedral, Memorial de la Deportation, Saint-Chapelle, Pont Neuf, the Seine, left bank, the Obelisk, the Eiffel Tower, and the Louvre. Oh sheesh I could spend a week in there and not have seen it all. I saw Venus de milo, the Mona Lisa, Egyptian Sphinx, and Winged Victory of Samothrace. Those were the most impressive! I stood in front of the Mona Lisa for 20 minutes just in awe. I wanted to cry and jump for joy all at once. The feeling it invokes in everyone must be different. I thought it was amazing, I know a lot of people get disappointed when they see how small it is. I was not disappointed at all it was what I expected and more! No picture has or will ever do it justice, I can say that much.

I love Paris, it is so gorgeous. People can drive motor cycles, and vespas on the sidewalk, which is very scary. I am almost more scared of bikers than I am of cars. I am still having the time of my life and I have two more days here. I could not be happier, Paris is a dream. Oh and I ate a huge Nutella crepe and I can honestly say it was awesome, but not as good as Madame's (maybe I am biased) I think I have enough that I worked off everything I ate in London, here, and in Rome (and I have not even eaten there yet). I am officially pooped for the day so I am going to head out. My next post will most likely be from Rome. Gosh, is this real life? A tout a l'heure!

Laters London

Man oh man! One minute I was on the tube headed for London for five weeks, the next I am saying goodbye to all my teachers who taught me everything I know about journalism. Time is such a funny thing. It is the perfect day to be teary eyed in London, the weather is gloomy, and my last day is slowly coming to an end. These past five weeks have been magical, and I know I will NEVER forget them. I have the most bittersweet feeling in the pit of my tummy. I am sad to be leaving London and all of the new friends I have made, but so excited to be headed to Paris. Okay I do not want this whole post to be so melancholy so I will tell you a little bit about my last few days here.

A couple days ago (and by a couple I mean I have no idea because I clearly cannot keep track of the days here) I went to the Tate Modern. I loved it! A lot of people don't like modern art, and I can understand why. People look at something and say, "shmhh I could make that." Well you didn't and that's why it's hanging in this museum without your name by it. Also some of the pieces are a tad weird.  For example, a string inside a frame. Some would say marvelous! I look at it and see a string inside a frame. However, one piece that stood out to me was of a microscopic sized woman sweeping a huge and long pile of dirt. This signified that a woman's days work is always humongous, and is never really finished. The other art that I did not care for was the poop on a stick piece. That is just not art to me, it is literally and figuratively poop! Any-who after the Tate Modern I walked over the Millennium Bridge (which is in Harry Potter) and saw St. Pauls Cathedral. The Cathedral was ginormous and had 530 steps to climb for a beautiful view of London. Naturally, the asthma I have that I do not actually have set in and I was huffin and puffin around the 20 step mark, but I persisted. On the way up I thought about the Olympians and how that task would be so easy for them, then my mind wandered to what step I was on, finally, when I reached the top the Hallelujah chorus sprang into life in my head. The view was breathtaking, and of course because I had done all that work, and climbed all those stairs, when I went to take a picture, my camera was dead. Which is sadder for you all than it is for me, I will always have a mental picture of that the view was like that day.

Last night we all went to Proud Camden which is in Camden Town where Amy Winehouse is from. The town looked like a circus or carnival. Little huts on the sides of the street with sketchy people, lights, and protruding figures from buildings (not for the faint of heart or mind). The club Proud Camden was in old horse stables which was awesome! The atmosphere was so unique and different compared to any other club we had gone to previously. Lights, loud music, separated by barn doors, and stables. I left before the tube closed because there was no way in heck I was getting lost in Camden Town.

Today I head to Shakespeare's Globe as my final ticketed event for my London trip. There is so much I got to do, and so much I still want to do (which is great because it gives me an excuse to come back)! I have to pack tonight which should be a fun experiment since I bought so much stuff while I was here. I ripped out the pages of Rick Steve's Guide that I need for the rest of my trip and donated it to the school. I will be in London tomorrow until around 5pm, but I am going to try and write my last feature for my arts class, so I probably won't have time to go to any museums. If I can, I will go to the Victoria and Albert Collection, and the Imperial War Museum. I am starting to get teary eyed just thinking about leaving, so I need to go and preoccupy myself with something else. Cheers mates!

Ummm...Wait! I Just Got Here

6 days left... I don't even know how that happened! The time has been flying by and once again I am wishing time did grow on trees. I have done and seen more than I ever thought possible. London and I have really suited each other. I even got to go to Scotland which is a dream come true. I would love to go back someday because I was only there for a couple days. Edinburgh was magical, the architecture was more gothic than the architecture here in London but still lovely. When we first got to Edinburgh it was raining dumping buckets after buckets of water on the three of us, and still we trudged on in search of our hostel. After hiking, winding, slipping, and sliding we stopped under an archway for some shelter from the wetness. The three of us were soaked, hungry, and our sense of hope and adventure destroyed by the relentless rain. We gave up and called a taxi. We stayed at the Castle Rock Hostel which was an easy twenty steps away from Edinburgh Castle. The view from our room was stunning.

Wow I got sidetracked there, sorry about that. Back to London. I realized when I got here I was trying to lead two separate lives, kind of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (but less crazy).  I had this one Coleen who wanted to be everything she was back at home. Then I realized another Coleen could be created one that no one had ever seen before. Ultimately I could be whomever I wanted to be. The idea was thrilling and exciting. However, I realized I like the mix of the two. Myself, with new added adventurous flair fully loaded and ready for the times ahead. Instead of totally and completely leaving myself and world behind from the US I brought pieces of it with me.

What I knew was inevitable has officially happened, I have changed. I knew this journey/experience would change me but I was not sure how. For starters those of you that know me know I am extremely organized, plan almost everything, and keep my room in pristine condition. Well here in London none of those traits stuck. My life is chaos, and I love it! I find myself wanting to get lost in London like a challenge to win. I will wonder around in hopes I can find something amazing, and almost every time I do. I try not to plan events. I wake up in the morning, go to class, and when I'm done with class think to myself "what would I like to do today," and I do it (what a crazy idea right?!?) It is so nice not to get caught up in the time or worry about where I need to be when, it's what's the word I want to use...refreshing. I feel rejuvenated and excited about life, thanking God everyday I wake up to be here living another day. As for my room, you would all be pleased to know it is organized chaos. I haven't done laundry in a couple weeks and it's totally awesome!

I really am going to miss London and the plethora of people who are temporarily residing here. The city is a hustling bustling whirlwind, and is getting worse as the olympics quickly approach. However, I do miss my family, friends, and especially Shea. I look forward to seeing you all when I come home, but I still have threeish weeks left here and I am going to take them for all their worth. I hope Paris and Italy are ready for me because I sure am ready for them.

I cannot stop thinking about Madame as I think about my trip to Paris. I know I will see her everywhere, and my heart will be filled with joy as I fulfill the dream she had for me. She always urged me to go and told me everything I had to see. I miss her so much, and cannot wait to see what Paris has in store for me.

I have terribly mixed feelings about Italy. Do not get me wrong, I am overjoyed to be going to Rome. However, this will be the first time I have ever fully traveled alone, and I am a little apprehensive since I don't speak Italian. I also will be staying in hostel, and I'm hoping I make friends quickly. I wish I still had the mentality of an elementary school student where I could just walk up to someone and say, "hey want to be friends." Two weeks in Italy at this moment seems like eternity, but I know once I get there I will be saying ummmm...Wait! I just got here when it's time to go home.

I am sorry my thoughts are so sporadic, this is just a glimpse f what my brain actually does on a daily basis. I am certain I have missed saying some things I want to say but I cant write everything because then I won't have anything to tell you later. Until my next post, cheers!

London Calling

Oy, where to begin! Oy is my new favorite phrase. I am loving my time here, and I am not certain I ever want to return to the US. I know the grass is always greener on the other side, but here the grass is lush, beautiful, and slowly grabbing at my ankles to stay. I have already made friends and memories I will NEVER forget. The second day I was here I set out for an adventure and accidentally ran into the British Library. It is free to enter and it is like a mini museum. I saw the Magna Carta, a piece of the first manuscript of the book of John, Mozart's wedding certificate, Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland manuscript, Beethoven's originl tuning fork, the original score of Handel's Messiah, the original score of Hydn's Hallelujah Chrous, Jane Austen's writing desk and glasses, and hand-written lyrics by The Beatles. I was blown away to be in the presence of these great works. This is only the beginning as I will be at the British Library on Friday.

As for the people, the words I could use to describe them are endless. So far I have met wonderful locals and foreigners, as London is populated by many travelers this time of year. Ilya is a local who gladly gave us a tour of which pubs to go to and what not to do because in his words "they are a bloody rip off for stupid tourists." He is quite a character. Ilya introduced us to Nick who is from Edinburgh, and will be telling us what to see while we are there. People here are so helpful and friendly. I am navigating the city much better now that I have been here for one week, and I know my way around the tube which is very helpful. Luckily I am good at remembering directions, Mercedes is good at remembering names, and Chelsea is good at remember numbers, together we are a super human willing and able to conquer London!

I could spend decades describing the architecture in all its glory. I go to school in a building which has never been renovated since 1720, on a block which is original from this year as well. Great James street to be precise. I keep looking out the window in class trying to tell myself everything is real and I am not in a dream. As I walk down the streets there are no skyscrapers towering the ground, smog filling the air making breathing difficult, but rather, beautiful buildings which have withstood time itself (which in my opinion is truly magical). There is nothing quite like seeing original brick with windows that are not perfectly spaced out, and walking on stairs where some steps are longer than others, and higher or lower than others as well. Nothing is perfect, and yet, everything is perfect.

Last night we went to a pub to watch the football game where the atmosphere was unlike anything I have ever experienced in the US even with "American Football." The venue was Yatess, and as we three girls tried to squeeze passed people jammed packed like sardines in the pub, we noticed much country pride. Everyone was wearing white and red, and yelling at the screen when the ball was anywhere near any goal. We took our seat with Ben who is super attractive and totally into one of the ladies in the group who also saved us all seats (which is a whole side story in itself). He is a bartender at the bar whom we met a couple nights before. One fan had a trumpet and was rallying the crowd to cheer with him at every game interval. The game was intense, but finally, the English triumphed and scored a goal. The crowd at this point erupted into a cacophony of sound unparalleled to anything I have every heard before. Leaping, cheering, crying, and hugging. The experience was amazingly fun. Now England moves on to play Italy, so I get another chance to experience the excitement.

I know I should not have waited so long to write, because now that I have I feel as though I am missing saying so much. I am so grateful to have Mercedes and Chelsea with me to travel and explore with, we have become best friends so quickly. We have already booked our flight to Edinburgh together, and can't wait until July 7! Class has been wonderful and I am learning what it takes to write marvelous journals. I go to Wimbledon on Monday which I never thought I would get to experience in person so I am overjoyed about the opportunity. Today I think I will take a trip to Big Ben, because I am finished with class for the day. Hopefully I will write again soon, so I don't miss all the fresh memories I am fortunate enough to have. Until next time cheerio chaps!

A New Law In Oregon

     Today in Oregon a new law was passed. The new law states we can no longer touch the one's we love. We can no longer kiss our children goodbye, we can no longer hold someone as they cry. We cannot hug our friends, we can no longer touch the person deemed special in our hearts. As days go by we begin to yearn for our loved one's touch, but it is simply against the law. More days go by, now years and still we lack our loved one's touch.

     Our hearts begin to feel the toll gravity has taken on them. We become more comfortable closer to the ground. We begin to crawl everywhere on our hands and knees, weak from the lack of our loved one's touch. Over much time we begin to wear shoes on our hands to guard our hands from the rough terrain of the road. Society is now used to the fact that it is against the law to touch our loved one's. One day I decided to take the shoes off of my hands, to see and remember what used to be there. My hands had turned into feet, absent from any touch but that of the inside of the shoes. Where I once had hands, I now saw feet. 

    Instead of breaking the law, I simply conformed. This was the punishment. Think about it. 

Magic?

     I was strolling to photography when I looked up to spot a little white flake on its dive down from Heaven. I watched it from a fair distance up as it turned and spiraled torward me. Little did I know this little flakes intention was to land on my eyelash and send a chill down my spine. Oh how I love the snow! Being from California anytime there is a little hint of snow, it's so magical. I know people from Oregon just don't appreciate it as much as I do. People always make fun of me for walking around with my head up in the clouds literally and figuratively speaking, unfortunately not physically (because I am shorter than average).
     I was walking down the street with my mouth open, never did it occur to me others may be watching. So I left my mouth wide open with a grin on my face trying to catch as many icy little flakes as I possibly could, as I sang a song (which no one could possibly understand because my mouth was wide open). I heard a man chuckle as I walked past. I quickly closed my mouth and blushed. He said, "Ain't no reason to be blushin' about enjoyin' the little things." He continued with, "You sing your song, and catch your snow flakes! Don't let peoples' laughs get in the way of that miss thang." I smiled and kept on walking. Who was that man? Maybe just a man, maybe an angel, or maybe God? I am not sure, but I had a warm cozy feeling after he spoke with me, and the temperature outside should not have allowed such a feeling. Either way I'm grateful for the snow, and for the man I encountered on my silly walk.

A Little Slice of Ganache

            I shoved the last item I could possibly jam into my suitcase and headed out the door.  As I was packing each item individually I kept thinking this is a stress I shall put a way, and this is a worry to think about later, and here is something I just don’t want to think about ever. I was in dire need of a break, so thank goodness for the opportunity to fly to Arizona.

            Shea and I stepped off the plane, and headed for baggage claim. I saw Toni and immediately a huge grin grew across my face. It is so nice to get away for a while. Not to escape, but to have a little break. We talked for 2 hours about life, and everything Mr. Hayashi (my choir director) from high school has been up to. We arrived at their house and had enough time to drop off our things, and head back out. I wanted to support Derek, Mr. Hayashi’s son, and friend of mine in teaching a dance class that night. Shea loooooooooves dancing, and by love I really mean abhors, and would be happy if he never ever had to lift a finger or toe to music. Unfortunately for him, he chose a boogie-down queen, and I love to dance even when there isn’t an occasion. Quick tangent…Shea and I were in Pita Pit once and a song came on so I decided to interpretive dance it in front of everyone directly to him, he was super embarrassed, and I loved it! Anyway back on track. We went to the dance and Shea was actually pretty good. I loved having the opportunity to dance with him.

            We walked outside after the dance was over, and saw a little car zipping into the parking lot…I knew it was Hayashi. We embraced, and it felt so good to be back in his company. When we got back to his house we stayed up talking to him until 3:00AM. We relived old choir memories, and stories we did not want to ever forget. I even acted out my inner monologue to several of these stories, which happened to be comical to my surprise. When we hit 3AM I thought we should go to bed, I mean Hayashi is getting his Doctorate, he needs his beauty sleep. 

            The next day, Friday to be exact, we went to class with Hayashi. Who needs coffee when you get to listen to Hayden at 9AM?  After that a brief study sesh in the library, followed by weird music theory (I can’t remember the official name of it right now, but it was really bizarre, Shea can help me with this later). The best part about the school day was choir, his director was hilarious. Plus the choir was singing Mozart, and it’s pretty hard to go wrong with Mozart (well you can, but they didn’t).

            New York Voices came after the class to give a clinic in vocal jazz, which was AMAZING! We saw them that night, and their performance was flawless. I do not have a clue how anyone watching them couldn’t tap a toe, or bob their head. I got to take a picture with them, and I got their autographs. It was totally wicked!

            Saturday we woke up bright and early to go to the Desert Museum in Tucson. I learned quite a bit about birds, and strange desert animals. I was glad to be protected by the wire and glass from some. When we left the museum, we headed to where Mr. Hayashi teaches a small jazz group. I got to sing with them, and it was just like old times.

            Sunday was Shea’s 20’Th birthday. Toni and I made him chocolate ganache, which I fittingly call death by chocolate cake because it is literally to die for. We packed up our things, and ate our final meal together (which was also superb).  After dinner we sight-read Mozart’s Requiem, which was impossible and sounded like a train wreck, at least on my end. We said our goodbyes, and finally flew back to Oregon.

            This pretty much sums up my trip to AZ; actually it doesn’t even scratch the surface really of how amazing it was. At least it gives you an idea. One of the parts I know I will always remember was Toni asking Shea what three blessing he had received in his past year alive. The very first thing Shea said was “Well I guess the biggest blessing would have to be meeting Coleen, and getting to be with her everyday.” I KNOW!!! So amazing right? I shall stop rambling now, and actually do something semi-productive. Until next week…

Aborting A Mission

            I am currently on an airplane somewhere over the state of Arizona wishing I were flying to Mexico, and not back to Oregon. At least I am sitting by a very cute sleeping man (Shea), and I am grateful for the free quiet time to write (minus the baby screaming two rows behind us). We had such a wonderful time in Arizona, but more about that in the blog to follow. This blog is to make up for last weeks. There isn’t really a moral to the story that follows this entry; simply a story is all it’s meant to be.

Shea and I went out to lunch at a Chinese restaurant in town.  It was just us and one other pair. We ordered and continued chatting about our day and how school was beating us up in different ways. We both couldn’t help but over hear the other pair’s conversation. At first I thought they were definitely a first date duo trying to talk, which was super awkward. I thought well this may be the first date, but it’s looking like it will be their last. Then Shea said he didn’t think it was a first date he thought it was a father and daughter. I giggled wondering why the conversation sounded so badly to me.

            Shea and I got our food and started chowing down. The couple behind us began their conversation again. The girl kept talking about how she felt it was the right decision, and she didn’t think her mom supported it. Her dad then said you are making the right choice; you’re a freshman in college and not ready to have a baby. Then the bomb hit, you need this abortion the father exclaimed. At this point Shea and I both just gawked at each other. I guess we were surprised because we hear about abortion, but we never really know it’s going on around us in reality.

My heart broke for the girl. I kept waffling back and forth with the idea, should I say something or should I keep quiet. I wasn’t sure what I’d say, maybe lower your voice. Or maybe I’ll be praying for you, or perhaps don’t do it! I just felt like I should say something, even though it was not my place at all to do so. We both left around the same time. When I looked back at their table I noticed the father had left his glasses. I wondered if this was a sign, maybe I was supposed to run them to him and say something. So I grabbed them, and shouted after them, they did not hear me. I was not sure why I felt so strongly, but I did. I am glad I didn’t end up talking to them after all. Like I said there were just no perfect words to say. 

Going...going...gone!

            Well…it’s the fifth week of photography and I have never been more frustrated with something in my life! The first week started like any other, everything was easy. I was catching on really quickly, as per usual. When we hit photo shop everything went down hill. I would spend three hours editing one photo (a photo I wasn’t even happy with in the first place), and still after the three hours felt like I had accomplished nothing. I was excited about film photography, and the idea of developing, and printing my own photos. Until, week five rolled around and we actually started developing film. That was probably the most stressful experience of my life. “So we put the film in this container for 30 seconds, then the next for 2 minutes, then the next for 6 minutes, while it's pitch black? Then wait…wait…wait, you lost me at putting the film in the container.” Not to mention we have to put the film into the container totally and completely blind!

Even if my photos aren’t very good, I am learning a lot which I did not expect to learn. I am learning that flaws are okay. I am learning that if I don’t listen to clear instruction, I am going to have a crappy outcome. I am also learning to be happy with the finished project, because it took me 80 10 steps to get there, so I might as well enjoy it. I am also learning that once I snap a photo, I can never go back to that moment. Every picture is unique in that way. Each photo is a time capsule, taking me back to a memory which will only happen once. Even if I tried to re-create a scene, or an idea, the photo still wouldn't be the same. Either because the elements have changed over time, or the people have changed over time. This idea is what I appreciate most about photography: we only have one shot in life, and we had better take it when we have the opportunity, because once it’s gone, it’s gone. 

Battle Scars

I recently read an article on a woman politician speaking of having three war stories. She states in her interview that war stories are the stories, which define you. She states that if you have three war stories, you’re on a great path. If you don’t quite have three, you have more living to do. War stories, or at least her definition of them are when you stand up to a bully, or make a bold statement.

I don’t have three war stories yet, but I do have battle scars. My definition of battle scars consists of the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of the war. The war I fought most recently was the war of the fat ass. Yes, it sounds obscene, and the scene was exactly that.

I was in line at my campus coffee shop trying to grab a cup before running to my next class. The two boys in front of me got to the counter and apologized to the barista for not being able to order quickly. “Sorry, that fat ass wouldn’t get out of my way!” One of the boys exclaimed. The barista’s mouth dropped, she was stunned, frozen by the comment. I tapped the boy’s shoulder and asked him to repeat what he had said, just to make certain I heard it properly. He said the comment again, and his buddy laughed this time. As many of you know, I am not wasting away by any means, so I was especially taken aback by his comment. I proceeded into war with my weapon mouth locked and loaded, “I would watch what you say about her fat ass, because one day you could be working for it. One day you might need to kiss that fat ass to get a promotion. One day you might have fat ass kids, and love them dearly, and one day you yourself might be a fat ass.” I continued with, “If you have any sense of self-respect and dignity you will apologize right now for your actions!” His mouth had dropped to the floor, and if it could have dropped any farther it would have. Everyone in the café was clapping, the boy then apologized to the barista, everyone in the café, and the girl he had insulted. I admit, it probably was not the best way to handle the situation, or the classiest, but I had to do something.

The good battle scars I took away from this are to continue to stand up for what’s right, enjoy applause life sometimes brings, and be happy with yourself as a person. If I were not content with my own body image, I never would have been able to stand up for the girl. The bad battle scars I took away from this were using profanity in public (not the best thing to come out of a ladies mouth), and the pain I could relate to in the girl’s eyes. The ugly battle scar was the comment I will forever keep in my memory, along with the laughter.

            So maybe I have one war story, but I am enjoying the battle scars most. I feel like they are more important than the actual war. Once the war is over, it’s over, but the scars you take away you’ll keep for life.  

Weird Week

This poem is making up for last Wednesday's blog that I did not post. Life got crazy busy.

Weird Week

I’m in a weird mood

Can’t find the right attitude

Each day says goodbye

Silence is my reply

I don’t wake up feeling good

I don’t wake up feeling bad

I wish I understood

I wish that I could

The question is me

And who I ought to be

No more lies through a mask

Learn no when they ask

Learning when people speak

Learning throughout the week

Waiting for life to unfold

Waiting for dreams to be told

Hope is my inspiration

Heart my identification

Next week will be fair

I’ll see you when I get there

And So It Continues...

            “Please don’t spill on my couch,” were the first words that tumbled out of my mouth as my friend sat down on the light blue fabric. As soon as I uttered those words, I immediately wanted to retract them and shove them back into my head. He teasingly said, “I know, I won’t.” Exactly five seconds later he told me, what I dreaded to hear. “I spilled some soy sauce on your couch.” (This is the part in the story where a normal sane person would proceed to tell him, it’s okay, and not to cry over spilt milk) Oh no! Not I! As soon as he got up I ran for the Spray n Wash, followed by vigorous scrubbing, and finally, tossing the fabric into the dirty laundry for prompt cleaning. After these actions I started to compulsively clean my room, even though there was nothing really to clean. Now folks, try to contain your laughter, I then started to sob uncontrollably cry a little. Was I crying because I was upset about the spill? No. I was crying because sometimes I feel as though what I say, whether it be to my friends, co-workers, or peers, gets totally disregarded. I will break my back trying to help others out, and by trying to listen to what others have to say. When it comes to me, I feel like I am not held with the same respect. It was at this exact moment I realized, I am turning into my mother. She would often ask me if I was totally disregarding her on purpose, or what? Now I know exactly what she was talking about.

            This is a concept I used to dread as a teenager. There was no nightmare greater than that of becoming my mother. Now, as I grow older, I can only hope to become half the person she is (even with all the O.C.D. moments). The home where I was raised is probably the cleanest home anyone would ever come across. We have two cats, and the floors are so clean you can eat off of them. As my friends can attest to, I have picked up this perfection-cleaning O.C.D. clean trait. My room here is spotless.  My room lacks piles of clothes, my desk is cleared, books organized, dressers free of clutter, and my bed is made everyday. So what is the point of all this you ask? To say I am proud to be like my mom. She is the kindest, most loving, thoughtful person I have ever known. She does good for others, before ever doing anything for herself. I actually can’t even remember the last time she did anything for herself. She is courageous, and has taught me everything I need to know for life, without even knowing she taught me. She Mr. Miyagi’d me, and my friends, that is a weird but awesome feeling. I no longer fear the outcome of turning into my mother, I rather embrace the idea. I have a ways to go, wisdom to collect, and kids to fight for and with until I reach her complex state of being.

            Now I laugh at the idea that I cried over the soy sauce spill, because I like knowing I am my mother’s daughter. Whether I have the good, the bad, or the ugly traits I will be happy to embrace them all (maybe just the good one's). So to end this long blog I will say what I know my mom would tell me, “Continue to treat others the way you want to be treated.” Now go off into the world, and do your thing! 

And So It Goes...

            My alarm went off, once again at 7am sharp! I moaned and groaned, rolled over hit the snooze button, and went back to sleep for what seemed like a second. 7:30am hit me when the alarm screamed my name and told me to get my lazy butt out of bed. Something was different about this morning. Something was not the same. I looked in the mirror and my appearance was quite the same. Tousled hair, puffy bags under the eyes, and a little bit of drool left over on the left cheek from the nights’ sleep. However, I was an entirely different person on the inside, this morning.

            I set goals for myself this term, which would change the course of my life. You may see them as simple goals, with little to no impact at all, but for me they are huge! This term I want to have fun with school. I don’t want to wake up and head to the chore of classes and homework I often dread. Instead I want to wake up feeling privileged for the opportunity my family has provided me with attending school. There are too many people in this world that will never have the opportunity they deserve to go to school. I want to cherish every day I attend my classes. I want to get the most out of my education, and if I’m not enjoying school to the fullest, well I shouldn’t be here. My second goal is to read a book for fun. I can’t remember the last time I have had time to read a book, and I love to read. I want to get lost in a world of my own imagination. I want to be inspired by the writer who took the time to write the book in order for the audience to get lost in the words.

Lastly, and most importantly, I want to be forgiving. Often times when a deadline is set in my job I organize, plan, and get the job done before the deadline even hits. When my co-workers don’t do the same I sometimes am frustrated. I need to understand everyone has lives and commitments, and these people are their own people. I am in charge of myself, and no one else. I want to forgive those who I have been selfish toward in my own wants. This will be an ongoing struggle for me, but I will do my best.            

Now here my friends, is where you come in. Think about something you want to change in your lives. It can be something simple or something extravagant. Set the goal and aspiration with an open mind. Tell another friend to keep you accountable. I would love to know my friends are setting goals for themselves this term along with me.

Here are some ideas to spark your interest:

• Call someone you love once a week, and tell them you love and appreciate them.
• Smile when you walk into work at the very first person you see every single day.
• Take a walk, and appreciate the world we live in. (Like my aunt used to tell me, “Duh says you gotta stop and smell the flowers.”)
• Send an encouraging note to a friend, a hand written one, not a Facebook note.
•  Look in the mirror and tell yourself you love yourself (I know it sounds weird) but if you can’t do that, you can’t really love others now can you?

I would love to hear your stories of success, and even failure. Life is beautiful and I can’t wait to see what it has in store for me. 

Mom Said

     My mom used to tell me when I was younger, "Coleen, money doesn't grow on trees." Now I am in college and that phrase makes even more sense than it did back then. I am often caught up in the hustle and bustle of school worrying about money. Will I have enough this term? I need to pay how much to get my transcript? Why is interest on my loan so much? I keep thinking back on my mother's statement money doesn't grow on trees. Think about all the time we waste worrying about money, and stressing about the next paycheck.

     There are so many ideas more valuable than money we can never grow on trees. What is more important than money, time. I ponder the idea of time growing on trees, easily available for someone to simply pick a couple extra weeks off, days, or even minutes. Life would be such a different place if we could take just one more day with someone we loved. Have one more extra minute to kiss our loved ones before heading out the door for work. 

     I urge you to consider time after reading this. We only have so much of it. Our weeks, days, and minutes are numbered, and we can't grow anymore. Take the extra time to say goodbye and I love you to the people you love. You never know when that phrase will be your last. Stop worrying about the money, your hard work will provide for you. Instead, spend the time to count the blessings you do have. Enjoy the time which doesn't grow on trees.