Honduras. Part Dos.

After an extremely uncomfortable week of mouth ickiness, I am glad to say that I am completely back to normal! (or, at least, whatever passes as normal for me)

First: a blurb from Honduras. Kim, you asked for this. Even though I find this the most amusing episode of probably the whole trip, some may be disturbed (boca burger lovers beware). One morning, while driving to our work sites in a rickety, torn apart (literally) old bus, feeling every bump, smelling every smell, and watching the gorgeous mountains roll by, we passed by a little settlement of houses, a store, you know, the kind of town you are most likely to find in the middle of Kansas. Well, there was a giant pig (GIANT) that we had seen for the last several days just kind of hanging out. (Animals, whenever they weren't scrounging for food, getting kicked, or procreating, liked to stroll across the highway or just sit dangerously close and watch us pass). But, on this singular day, the pig was being dragged around on a rope by its owners. There were a few pieces of equipment around that seemed to harken back to the French Revolution and other violent occurrences, if you catch my drift.
We were returning that afternoon, and guess what! Mr. Pig was on a table. On the bus, we all started laughing, cheering, crying, etc... His owners/murderers looked up and, with their super-sharp machetes and knifes, waved and smiled! It was amusing, in a rather sadistic, anti-PETA, pro-PETA (People who Eat Tasty Animals) sort of way, and re-reading this, you really had to be there to appreciate the humor...


Second: Bastille Day is coming up. Get out your toy guillotines, Edith Piaf records, and crepes. (And maybe stop by and bring me a present, cause like a true Frenchie-ophile, my birthday falls on their Independence Day.)

Honduras. Part Uno.

So, I spent the last ten days in Honduras, on a mission trip organized by the Diocese of Dallas and three of the major Catholic high schools. Instead of writing an extraordinarily long blog post, which nobody would ever finish reading, I decided to break this experience up, so that the "high" I'm on now will last for the whole summer. To start, I will tell you about the iconic moment of the trip (for me).

Keep in mind that I'm not usually this sentimental. But this trip really touched me in a way I have never been touched before.

On June 18, 2010, a twelve or thirteen year old boy changed my life. Or, at least, the next few weeks will show how successful he was. I don't know what his name is. I don't know who his parents are. I don't know anything about him. But, as we (the missionary group) were playing soccer with the Honduran kids in the trashy street right outside the church we were helping to build and improve, this boy started poking me. It was a favorite pastime of the Honduran kids. They would come up behind us and start poking. (I have bruises from that. Those little kids were ridiculously strong. They would mess with the barbed wire and come away with nary a scratch.) Then, suddenly, he stopped. He started talking to me. Well, I take French, so I had no idea what he was saying. So I had trusty Vanessa, our unofficial translator, mediate between this boy and me. He was asking where I was from. Of course, I said Dallas, Texas, and showed him my ID bracelet, where it was written out. He tried pronouncing it several times (Dollah Tejas!) and then he asked me if he could come back with me to Texas. Not as a joke. Not trying to get my guard down so he could tickle me again. But with a completely serious face.

What was I supposed to say?! I shrugged my shoulders, said no, and Vanessa kind of explained to him why he couldn't come. But that occurrence stuck with me. I used it during our reflection circle time, I wrote about it in my essay for the bishop, I told my parents. Those kids, in fact, all of the Honduran people, viewed us as guardian angels. We came from a land of electronics, clean water, fancy clothes, unpopped soccer balls, and red 'juice' (gatorade). I mean, we did plenty of manual labor. But we could have volunteered for Habitat for Humanity and done the same exact things. The difference was the people and what we learned from them. That kid restored all the confidence in myself that I had lost over the course of junior year. He was willing to come with me, a complete stranger, to a different country, for reasons which should be pretty obvious. I learned so much on a simple ten day trip, that I was almost appalled when I got home and saw how many break-ups, hook-ups, movie going, complaining about life, etc. had been going on while I was away. I saw how superficial it all is, and how I had broken free of the superficiality for a while. I'm afraid of going back to the person I was before the trip, but I can feel it creeping up already.

So, I'm going to go pray a rosary. I'm going to finish my geography. I'm going to watch a movie, read a book, listen to music. But, all the while, that little kid will haunt me until I finally do more to help him. God handed me the opportunity this first time. Now, I will go pray. I will do my geography, watch a movie, read a book, listen to my music (which I missed so much!). But that little boy will haunt me until I do more to help him and my brothers and sisters around the world. God has already handed me an opportunity to do something. Now it's my turn to become an independent individual and do even more.

Adios Dallas, Hola Honduras!

On Thursday I depart on the most exciting trip of my life thus far. (I also get to wake up earlier than I ever have in my life...but whatever)
This. is. Honduras.

Yeah, I'm really nervous. No hot water, washing machines, electronics, air conditioning (100 plus degree weather all the time! and we have to wear pants!), fresh produce, movies, etc. But, guess what? We do get to blog! Check out this site to keep up with your favorite person http://geotechexplorers.ning.com/.
I'm looking forward to getting away from home, a bit of a taste of what college life will be like, especially if I get to leave the state as I wish. (I also get to miss the tumultuous process of house renovations, thank the Lord.)

This past school year has undoubtedly been the most stressful, long, ridiculously pointless, and most humbling one yet. Because of that, I definitely need a bit of spiritual, physical, and emotional renewal. Sort of like a St. Ives apricot scrub for the soul. I am also excited to meet and bond with the Bishop Dunne and John Paul II missionaries, not to mention my fellow Lynchies.

However, what I'm most afraid of is not being changed as much as I expect to be. I'm afraid that once I get back to a very comfortable, lazy life in Dallas, I will return to my slothful, selfish, taking-everything-for-granted self. Pray it ain't so.

And I am seriously in need of a bit of spiritual renewal, after being scarred by a year of nonchalance. I quite honestly despise the non-caring Catholic-in-name-only person that I have become, since I had promised myself at every camp, retreat, confession session that I would certainly not become that. Which shows the true weakness of the human spirit. Sigh.

But a bit of optimism is called for. I was looking through the pictures from last on the blog site, and I swear I was almost crying. Seeing the little Honduran kids and the American high school students so obviously bonding really encouraged me.

And, you know, I'll probably be in pretty amazing shape when I get back.
A mission trip to Honduras? A wonderful resume builder, not to mention a great essay topic.
My French-speaking self might actually pick up a bit of Spanish too.

June 10-20. Then I'll be back. Please pray bunches.
See ya.

Summah List o' Literature

Now that summer has arrived, I will have plenty of time to do my favorite thing: read!
To spark your own desire to start a summer booklist(which you might actually use!) I thought I would share mine (or the beginnings of it, at least).


1) A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole: Funnily enough, this book was submitted to a publisher after the author died (suicide). His mother submitted it. And, in keeping with the spirit of do-it-all mothers, this satirical/comedic drama is about a 30 year old obese man who makes his mother do everything. Yes, he has a master's degree, but instead of getting a job, he sits at home and writes history from his point of view. For example, he is a TV addict, yet he blames TV for all of society's problems, wishing that Hroswitha (whoever that is) would come back to life and guide society away from the media. Then he goes and watches some stupid show. Lots of belching, not PG (or even PG-13...) and yet it won a Pulitzer Prize. My brain is excited! (394 pages)


2) A Room with a View by E.M. Forster: A little-known 1908 "Edwardian social comedy" (my favorite genre!) which explores the life of a English woman who falls in love with a possible Socialist in Italy. However, she is promised to a stifling young chap back home in jolly old Surrey. This modern Pocahontas must choose between convention and passion. The great thing about this era of literature is that you never really know which the heroine will choose (or whether she'll commit suicide in a House of Mirth-ish fashion...)(204 pages)


3)A Life Full of Holes by Driss Ben Hamed Charhadi- translated by Paul Bowles: This book doesn't even have a Wikipedia article written about it yet (always check the new book section at your public library!), so I have no idea what to expect. It's a day to day account of the life of Driss - a Moroccan shepherd and trafficker who tries to keep hope. This is also the first novel written in the Arabic dialect Moghrebi. Awful? Probably. Uplifting (at the end,at least)? Hopefully. (295 pages)


4) Sophie's Choice by William Styron: I had heard about this book before, and when I saw it on the library shelf, how could I resist? This is a thriller about a writer who gets to know his neighbors: a brilliant Jew named Nathan and his Polish lover, Sophie, a survivor of the Holocaust. The back cover scared me quite a bit, for it closes with, "And finally Sophie's Choice leads to an unblinking confrontation with what can only be called pure evil." Hmmm...(562 pages)


5) The Turn of the Screw by Henry James: I started reading this in September I believe. I got through about a third of it before the clock struck midnight and the protagonist came face to face with a ghost of a dead person. Scared out of my wits (of course it was thundering outside as well), I gave it up, but, fascinated, I promised myself that I would read it eventually. Eventually has arrived. I will finish it. (113 pages)I adore Henry James even though Paul Johnson (fellow APUSHers) hates him for some reason. Something having to do with James writing about British people even though he is American...and yet dear Paul is the one who wrote the history of America even though he is British...which leads me to my last book[s]!


6) Either The History of the Jews or Intellectuals: From Marx and Tolstoy to Sartre and Chomsky by the aforementioned Paul Johnson: I loved his book on America. It made me laugh...a lot. (He wasn't even trying to be funny, but with phrases like 'regurgitating knowledge', his CONSTANT badmouthing of Henry James, and his beliefs that the pro-life movement is based on violence and that the feminist movement did NOTHING to liberate women, how could I help it?). I want to read more. And what better way to get a laugh than reading about Paul's views on the Holocaust and modern smart people? Yesh, I will have to make a half-price run to get one of these :)

P.S. I am addicted to making lists, so if you would like one of my pre-made booklists, ask and ye shall receive...

Happyyy reading!