Now I find this holiday as one of the MOST annoying and 0bnoxious holidays out there.

I feel there is so much pumped up talk about Halloween, and when it comes … It really isn’t anything that spectacular.
As we say good bye to warm weather, we say hello to who can wear the most revealing costume. It’s almost a contest of which girl can withstand the most wind and temperature drop. The prize? Self respect and a pat on the back? I think it is kind of silly.
I tried to go as a Snuggie-wearer and a stay at home mom (jeans, sneakers, sweater, soccer mom shirt) … No one was really feeling it.
Naughty nurse vs. wearing a backwards robe … Who do you think will be more comfortable and literally hotter ?

Last year, my friends and I were stuck in Austin’s 6th street. It took about 1 hour in traffic to go downtown, another hour to get out. The streets were packed to the brim. So that’s about 2 hours of seeing people who were not physically fit trying to squeeze into tight spandex. Gross. Gross. Gross. Maybe I’m just annoyed, because I’m at the age where I don’t deserve any candy. Clearly, in a few short years, I’m going to be one of crazy old people ranting on and on about the past.

To sum it up:
Girls, don’t wear a revealing costume unless you really have the body. Gross.
Girls, if you don’t have the body … don’t eat more Halloween candy. Gross.
Boys, oh a costume that has an underlying sexual innuendo … You are just about as creative and hilarious as every other person out there. Gross.

If there is one holiday that is underrated … it is obviously THANKSGIVING!
I’ll take a Thanksgiving dinner over a bucket of mediocre candy any day.

On paper, the odds of me completing college are probably very low. I am the first person in my family to go to college, a minority, from a low-income family, and I’m from a small town. Statistically the transition into college should be overwhelming for me, but I’m actually doing quite well. Why is this? How can the vast amounts of data be wrong at times?

Humans are not numbers. In fact, most of us take pride in “not being another statistic” or beating the odds. I believe that most students from low-income families have an unfair advantage; they are highly motivated. A good example would be of my cousins. Both of my cousins are smart, but one is from a rich family, while the other isn’t. Usually having a higher income correlates with better grades, but in this case the opposite is true. My low-income cousin knows that his parents are working hard to pay for his tuition, and that they are counting on him to take care of them one day. The threat of failure makes him push harder and he receives high grades. My wealthy cousin, on the other hand, knows that his parents can take care of him if he doesn’t succeed. Also, he knows that he will one day inherit a small fortune, so receiving high grades isn’t very important to him.

First-generation college students also have an unfair advantage because they know the benefits of a college education. My parents never went to college, so growing up they always told me the problems they faced because they lacked degrees. They put in my mind that a college degree equates to success and a high paying job. One of my friends from high school was a mentor to sixth grade students. To help the students study for a test, he would ask them review questions and if they answered incorrectly, they had to do push-ups. I asked him if this was a reward-punishment technique to help them learn, but it wasn’t. He said that if they weren’t learning then they were going to become athletic because that is the only other way to help them into college. His parents didn’t go to college either, so he knew the value of a degree.

When it comes to school, I never think that I am at a disadvantage. In fact, I believe it’s the richer students whose parents went to college that have the disadvantage. One day I wish we would look at “disadvantaged” students not as needing a bailout, but deserving of a reward because of their commitment to success.

I am not working with the school district anymore, and while that is definitely a good thing, I have the most troubling dreams that keep me from feeling rested, no matter how much I sleep.  The themes all revolve around the precious child I was responsible for and the fact that I won’t know or be a part of how he progresses or grows in the future.  If I know the hope in every person to grow and change, I just feel paralyzed with concern for this 4 year old who is already having such a hard start to life.

And that’s just the start of my worries.

Because the deadline passed (while I was working) to set up a meeting with the University Studies advisor to officially change majors, I am on hold with the university, which means that I can’t order transcripts.  Because my job at the school district required me to have 60 hours of college (with an official transcript to prove it), I cannot get paid for the work I did until the hold is removed at A&M.  It’s all very trivial and arbitrary in the longrun, but right now it’s costing me time, money, sleep, and sanity.  I could just burrow my face in a pillow.

All of this is depressing to me.

Contrary to the child I cared for, I grew up in gifted classes, outperformed my peers on national exams, committed to learn from everyone I would meet in life, and STILL I’m struggling to find  a courseload/extracurricular mix that inspires at A&M, a job that I can handle, and a life that I can enjoy day in and day out.    It is a let down to be carried on such great expectations for success in childhood, only to meet this reality of deadlines, appointments and formality with a blow to the gut instead of a friendly handshake.  If it’s this hard for me–the one who was trained up with the gifted, rewarded alongside the well-connected, and raised by a well-equipped family–I have no idea what people with harder beginnings are facing.

I am beginning to understand that nothing positive or negative about yesterdays guarantees anything about the future, whether for me or an autistic 4 year old.  It both haunts  thoughts about my own future and comforts me when I’m thinking about his.

Plan A. Consulting internship
Plan B. Fashion Internship in New York City again
Plan C. Internship Abroad
Plan D. Study Abroad
Plan E. Do nothing and go into depression because I feel unproductive

I feel that time is already ticking for my summer plans. Study abroad applications are due now and I’m starting over with the whole resume / cover letter send out. This year, I am going to try to go through the rigorous process of obtaining a consulting internship this summer. If not, hello New York City and hello luxury fashion. I think my biggest mistake in high school was taking Spanish instead of French … Fashion internship in Paris > Fashion internship in New York.

AND Fortune Tellers – Do they really have some form of Gypsy magic? Or are they really good at reading people?

My sorority hired some fortune tellers for our Halloween party last night.
I have a tendency of disbelieving everything at first.  But upon sitting down, the fortune teller told me …

That I am normally very positive, but I’m also extremely stubborn.  TRUE.
And when I get angry … I get REALLY angry. TRUE.

So … I don’t know if she just magically knew that … OR if she overheard me complaining … but the gypsy fortune teller was pretty dead on.

She then told me that I have lots of crazy goals, but if I want to reach them I have to be really focused.  Hmmm … I’ve heard that before !!! I’m wondering if my dad called the gypsy fortune teller lady to play a joke on me. But it sounded like the gypsy fortune teller was definitely channeling some POPPA YONG !!!!

President Obama was invited to speak by President George H. W. Bush.  I was able to watch it on tv, and must say that man can speak.  He talked for over twenty minutes, and never looked down or even paused.  I may be missing something, but I don’t think he had a teleprompter to aid him during this speech.  I feel that a major gift from God is the ability to speak in front of others, because for many that is their biggest fear.  The things discussed during this forum helped put things in perspective.  We all seem to get caught up in who is on what side of the political spectrum, and forget that there are far more things we can do to lend a helping hand.  They targeted public service, something that I have become more and more passionate about since coming to A&M.  Maybe this place just does this to you, because it has made me aspire to be a better person and have a desire to serve others.  Whether a person is conservative with their views or liberal, they can still take time from their day to help others.  I’m not here to preach, just hopefully encourage you to help someone even if it is as minute as helping an elderly lady out at the grocery store.  No one else may see you, but it may mean the world to her.

As I mentioned, I have wanted to do something to give back to others.  I have began participating in Junior Achievement this semester.  Junior Achievement is a program that sends people of all ages into schools to talk to students about the importance of hard work, staying in school, and getting a good job one day.  I was assigned to SFA Middle School in Bryan.  I’m here to tell you that I have a whole new respect for teachers everywhere.  It is tough to get the attention of thirty 6th graders, and even tougher to keep it for any period of time.  I’ve been to see the students twice so far, and I feel like I am not very good at this sort of thing, but the teacher keeps assuring me that her kids love having me come.  My main goal is to let them know that you can do anything you put your mind to, and never let anyone tell you differently.  It is a very rewarding feeling to give advice to those students, and I’m glad I signed up for Junior Achievement.

I would like to continue talking about doing things for others, and last night I was hit with the most inspirational story.  During April’s NFL draft, I can remember hearing about a football player from Ole Miss named Michael Oher, a black man that has amazing God-given talent and size.  I have not been keeping up with him until last night when I saw the previews of a new movie coming out that is based on the life of Oher.  The movie “The Blind Side” will show the struggle that Oher faced growing up when he had no guidance because his dad had passed away and his mother was a drug addict.  After attending eleven different schools in nine years, Oher was taken in by a white family.  The family raised him as if he were their own son, hired tutors to bring up his grades, and he eventually signed a scholarship with Ole Miss where he graduated and was a first round draft pick of the Baltimore Ravens.  I won’t spoil the story anymore for you, but encourage you to see this movie.  Tim Mcgraw and Sandra Bullock play the roles of the couple who took Oher into their family.  As I spoke earlier, we have to put our differences aside and come together, and this movie seems to show exactly that.  The color of our skin means nothing, but the inside of our heart is everything.  Until next time, God Bless from Aggieland.

I tell him, “Here at school, we walk in the halls, not run.”

He looks up at me, wild eyed and full of energy, screaming, “BUT I WANT TO RUN!”  And off he goes.

I tell him, “We don’t look around the breakfast room. Eat quickly! We have important things to do in the classroom.”  His fingers are magnetized to the ones of his own reflection in windows, and his gaze wanders every which way, studying children whose nametages say ’Third’ and ‘FranKayla’.   He touches their hair, then their clothes, then laughs out loud when they look at him in disgust.

I correct him, directing his flailing legs to the floor and his busy eyes forward.  “Sit still,” I tell him.  “Look at what’s in front of you.  Stay in the moment.”

He dreams, devising reasons for all of the colors and fabrics and textures around him.  He presses my sweater to his face, then looks at me in innocence before his head confuses his hands and causes them to slap me away.     For five minutes–sometimes ten, sometimes a whole hour–he is gone.

I am tired.

He bites another student, then me.  It’s important that we call his mother, but with a new child in her arms, she’s crying in Spanish when she gets to the school.  Trim, her appearance tells me that she has been on the “chase ’big A’ down the halls” exercise regime for longer than I have.  Sullen eyes tell me she has lost more sleep and cried more tears.  There is nothing to say to a woman whose grief over diverted dreams I am living with just 40 hours a week.  The other 128 are hers.  If I feel responsible for his behavior, she takes credit for his life.

I want to comfort her, even as her son’s arms are crossed in front of him and held down by the strength of my forearms.  My stomach churns and I hear myself asking him, in direct tones, to apologize so I can say, “I forgive you.”  He knows what my words mean; he speaks perfect Spanish and English, and can switch between the two with the effortless grace of a bilingual adult.  But he doesn’t understand.

He says, “No, never! Never, never, never forever! No!”  I don’t understand him.  He’s shouting into open classroom doors and my eyes, but the thick glaze over his eyeballs lets me know he doesn’t see me.  His anger carries him away.

I hold him, squeezing his arms and legs as tight as I can without bruising him.  I have to protect myself from a 4 year old 1/3 of my weight, who struggles to reach my hip.

His struggle exhausts him, then he hugs me, giving me a glimpse of the relationship that’s possible between us.

No matter how far he runs, it is my responsibility to catch him.  Still, I struggle to walk away.

Early in the afternoon on Friday, I was walking to the Koldus building in my suit because I had literally just finished my interview for the Professional Program of Accounting. I was carrying four copies of my application for an internship abroad, and it was thirty pages long. After I submitted my application, I had a huge smile on my face because my weekend had officially begun. I hurried home and ate a burger while I threw clothes into a duffle bag. After five minutes of packing/eating, I got into my friend’s car and we drove to Nacogdoches.

My friend David is a music major at Stephen F. Austin, and he is in the marching band. This was the Lumberjack’s homecoming game, so they had a bonfire the night I arrived. I must admit that I have been spoiled by Aggie Bonfires, so I was not too impressed by the mountain of pallets they set on fire. It was interesting to see how a different school gets ready for a football game. At A&M we have yell practices; at SFA they basically have a party on the intramural fields.

During the game, I got to sit on the home side. This was actually really nice because I was in the shade most of the game, and I actually got to sit down. I haven’t sat at a football game in a long time, but I got used to the idea very quickly. I got to see David march at halftime, and they were pretty good, but I still prefer my nationally famous fighting Texas Aggie Band. SFA’s football team dominated the entire game and only gave up three points. The Aggies are actually going to play SFA next year. I’m quite confident that we will win, but if we don’t, I won’t hear the end of it from David.

After such a fun weekend, I am recharged and ready for classes again on Monday. Thankfully, the coming weeks are not as busy as the one I just completed. The school year is flying by, and Winter break is almost here.

Also, there is this horrid smelling fruit called ‘Durian’ and then a much sweeter one called ‘Jackfruit’. They are of the same family, and look similar (the jackfruit is smaller in size) and until I had come here, I had never even dreamed of a fruit like this. As you can see, it’s green on the outside, spiked and has a fleshy, yellowish interior. I also kept seeing signs around the city with pictures of Durians with a red X over the top; because of their strong, unpleasant odor, they are distinctly forbidden many places! The only people I have met that TRULY enjoy this fruit are native to Southeast Asia, and even some of them are quite wary. It has been described as “a mix of the banana and onion flavor”- not exactly a winning combo. But everything can come in this flavor- bread, candy, ice cream, cakes… I’ll stick to pandan. However, Jackfruit is actually not bad at all; it’s quite sweet and is difficult to describe in taste. Maybe like a watered down, sweetened mango without the tang?? Bad description…

yeah, yeah, no eating, but ABSOLUTELY no durian!

Kaya, oh sweet, sweet Kaya. I remember the day I first had it- waffles are a very popular snack among Singaporeans. There is a waffle stall in almost every canteen and even one down the elevator from my dorm room! Walking past every day and smelling the strong, inviting odor of frying waffle batter, I opted to stop and explore. Looking at the list of flavor topping options, I saw ‘kaya’ and opted for that one- considering I had never heard of it before. When the guy tried to explain to me what it was, I didn’t quite understand, but when the sweet, thick, brown sugary substance that was melting between the two golden browned waffles hit my lips, there were no words. There are two types if kaya- regular (which is brown) and pandan kaya (which is, well, green). They are both made of sugar and coconut milk and are used as a jam like topping on breads and cakes. Delicious!

it tastes incredible!

Of course, if you plan to stay here for an extended period of time, you will inevitably find a way to mix your old and new tastes. I find myself doing that quite a bit, and today it resulted in a Southeast Asian twist on an American classic; Toasted Peanut Butter and Banana sandwich on Pandan bread with Kaya. It’s like if Elvis and the Merlion had a love child. And the most unfortunate part of the whole ordeal is the unavailability of some of these products stateside. I may need to go over my weight limit for luggage on the way home…

today’s lunch: green tea, imported chips and queso- definitely fusion lunch

ahhh queso!

When I signed up, I was very confident. I reminded myself that all I had to do was talk to a bunch of high school students about the Mays Regents’ Scholars Organization (at the time I didn’t know they were bringing their parents). When the day finally came, I stood outside the Cocanougher Center and talked to the other students on the panel. I had that nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach as I looked through the window to see the numerous students and parents attentively listening to a speaker. It was too late to back out of my commitment and go screaming down the halls of Wehner. The speaker signaled us to enter the room. I put a nervous smile on my face and hoped for the best.

We started by giving a brief introduction about ourselves. That part was easy enough. I spoke clearly and didn’t forget my name. After the introductions, I talked about the Regents’ Organization and how I got to go to Paris. I tried to keep my part interesting and gave some good information, but not too much. When I was done with my part, my fake smile was replaced with a confident one. All I had to do was wait for everyone else to finish.

“And now we will begin the Question and Answer portion of the student panel discussion.”

My heart sank. I had completely forgotten about the Q&A portion. I’m the kind of person that likes to plan everything out, so I’m not very good when put on the spot. I crossed my fingers and hoped that I wouldn’t be asked any direct questions. We were three questions in when I was finally called out.

“What was your favorite part about Paris?”

Oh no! They asked me a question. Panic! Panic! Wait a second…that’s an easy question. I can answer that. It was at that moment that I realized all of the questions were opinion questions that I couldn’t get wrong. Next, I answered questions about my freshman year. I actually started to have fun talking about past adventures.

We are all afraid of something, but at some point you have to learn to face your fears. I have by no means conquered my fear of public speaking, but I’ve gotten better, and not a moment too soon; next week I have a marketing presentation and a PPA interview. If I can speak to a room full of parents and students, an interview with a professor shouldn’t be too bad.

Embarrassing a friend during a date … is perhaps one of the easier pranks.

Prank Wars was rooms vs. rooms.

The rules were simple:
1. no dead animals
2. no live animals
3. nothing that would interfere with any one’s GPAs
4. nothing that would ruin our chances of getting our housing deposits back
5. most of all, NO REPEAT PRANKS

Prank War started strong. Some pranks included: covering a car with post-it notes, putting things from the closet onto a bed, removing a pillows and replacing it with shredded paper, putting confetti onto the room fan, filling a room with all the items from the house, covering a entire room with magazines, etc. etc.
My favorite was when Maggie and Charlotte taped everyone into their rooms during 2 am. When my hall way woke up the next morning we had to cut ourselves out of the room.

As fun filled as Prank Wars sounds, it brought up some very sensitive … shall we say “sensi” moments.
People started getting paranoid about leaving their rooms for long extended amounts of time. No one trusted conversing groups. People started locking their rooms whenever they left. I remember a weekend when my roommate and I both left for a retreat and I was nervous to come back to a room that would be encased in foil or something equally ridiculous.

The ending point of Prank Wars was when it actually evoked tears. One team retaliated by repeating a prank, which is clearly a rule against Prank Wars. Thus, creating more stress and paranoia.
Eventually, everyone came to terms that Prank Wars just had to end.

I guess the moral of the story is, “prank wars” are intended to make friendships grow stronger, etc. etc.
JUST NEVER repeat a prank !!!!

R.I.P. Prank Wars ‘09.

You will never be forgotten.

I wish I would have looked up the weather forecast on Saturday morning, or at least stepped outside for a few minutes to see what the weather was like. When I walked to my car, I realized it was kind of cold, but I thought it would either warm up or that it was warmer on campus (I live about six miles from campus, so I’m not sure why I thought it would be warmer a few miles up the road). One of my friends had told me that it was going to be about seventy-six degrees at game time, so I drove to Kyle Field wearing a t-shirt and shorts.

I don’t quite remember the game. I just remember that I was very cold and thirsty; I always freeze my water bottle before the game, so it will stay cold, but in this case it was too cold. You would think that with seventy-eight thousand fans at Kyle Field the body heat would keep me warm, but somehow the wind seemed to penetrate the audience and blew directly on me. I tried to use my 12^th Man Towel as a blanket, but that didn’t seem to work too well.

After the game, we had a barbecue at one of my friends’ apartment. This was the first time we had tried to barbecue by ourselves, so there was a learning curve. The only mistake we made was that we forgot to take the meat out of the freezer before the game, but thanks to the “auto defrost” button on the microwave, we were saved. We set the grill on the balcony, but since it was still cold outside, we stood inside by the sliding glass door and watched it. Who says that college students aren’t problem solvers?

The food that night was great, but because of the game I now have a cold. I can see tissues and cough syrup in my near future.

A lot of it is mixed emotion; you can’t believe it is already halfway over- it seems like we just got here! But then again, you realize how far you have to go. How long it has been since I have been held in Jon’s embrace, and how long it will be until I can look him in the eyes, and not by way of Skype on a computer screen.

I have to say, it is an interesting period of a relationship. I think that if anybody is considering being serious about someone else, that one of you has to go away. Before I left, I knew I could live with Jon, but the real question is, can you live without him?

Can I survive, without a doubt, but to LIVE…? I thought once I was here, without having him as a ‘distraction’ that I would be able to get more done. In fact, while I have done quite a bit, I feel as though I am less efficient, because his ABSENCE is in fact MORE distracting.

We feel closer than ever before; like the common male stereotype, communicating isn’t exactly one of Jon’s strong points, but this has provided us an opportunity to explore more avenues for communication. Between emails, text messages, pictures, voicemails, phone calls, Skype, and even snail mail love letters (snail mail is no exaggeration- his last letter took three weeks to get here!) I have been so impressed with how often we have gotten in contact. He leaves me a voicemail on his way to work every morning, and we talk to one another before we go to bed.

But it’s really getting difficult. As with any normal relationship, disputes continue to happen, but you can’t just kiss and make up. Sometimes you have to live with that little monster of anxiety, but it eventually goes away because of the sureness and the confidence you have in that love for one another. And as the stress of school and the everyday seem to mount, all you want is that one person who you want more than anyone in the whole world. As my friend Caroline put it, “I know it’s not the right thing to do, but if someone put a plane ticket back to London, back to my Dave, right here in front of me, I’d be hard pressed not to take it.”

And I notice myself crying at the silliest things. I couldn’t sleep last night, so I decided to watch Up, the animated Disney Pixar film, online. You can imagine Jon’s alarm when he gets a call from me at 4:30AM Singaporean time, sobbing and reciting him the quote “You don’t talk much- I like you!” He watched the same movie on a plane ride from Boston to Texas, and called me upon landing saying “yep, that was my little Brittany- bouncing around, bubbly, energetic- with me, the silent little boy who just watches her in awe.”

So here it is: the make or break period. Many of my friends have recently ended it with their abroad lovers, but then there are the few of us who realize that no matter how hard times get over here, that guy/girl on the other side of the world is worth waiting for.

No, no that would not be awesome, I thought to myself, but the reality of that situation wouldn’t have been too far off.

Crossing over from Kelantan, Malaysia to Southern Thailand is really just a short, five minute boat ride. It takes longer to go through customs than it takes to get there. And that’s what we accidentally almost did. Fortunately, we didn’t. But it was close.

Not to mention, going to this southern part of Thailand is not exactly safe. There have been disputes going on for so long that people cannot pinpoint why the terrorist bombings and attacks happen, but they do. And therefore the market that we shopped at is apparently now a quarter of the size it used to be. I love grocery shopping in different parts of the world, and in this part of the world, it means going to the market, to pick out your raw fish, fried fruit (friend bananas are and will continue to be my favorite, until death do us part, to my arteries or heart) and full chickens. While here, we hoped to check out some more Thai temples, but first had to rent out our sweet pimped out van!

After a meal of spicy and sour fish curry soup with coconut tree root, eggplant salad and spicy mixed chicken (we ate like KINGS for $4USD each!) and learning more about the area and the root of animosity that breeds violence in this area of Thailand from Dr. Johnson (apparently, to sum it up, the Thai police arrested and killed some people who were protesting, but the Thai government never admitted or apologized for it, saying that they died of natural causes partly due to their weak states from fasting during Ramadan… corruption is no stranger to this part of the world) we headed to my favorite temple in Chehe.

The mural on the walls of this temple was done by the artist in the 19^th century, and yet he left the back wall blank. Dr. Johnson is convinced that we are destined to go back and finish the back wall. But I was so enamored with the beauty and complexity of the whole thing. Most Thai murals nowadays copy the ‘postcard’ style, framing different scenes from the life of the Buddha, and arranging them as such on the walls of the temple. But the old school, original way, and the way that I love, is more like a Where’s Waldo book, with scenes from the village mixed in with scenes from the life of the Buddha. It reminds me of what we have discussed in my Sexuality in Comparative Perspective class; naturally, cultures where the gods are seen to be in existence among the common people, in everyday life tend to be more accepting of a wide variety of sexual practices and ones where God is at a distant, somewhat above the common man, sex tends to be less free. I just loved snapping photos of little funny scenes surrounding the life of the Buddha, especially the ones with naked ladies, lesbians and animals!

But it is freedom within structure, like all good art. There are certain elements and rules that must be obeyed; like the tendency for the top level to be of angels and demons, all praying facing the Buddha statue at the front, separated by a jagged line that then shows the many scenes of the life of the Buddha and other important elements, such as magical elephants and rabbits.

I can’t wait to get back to Thailand. I’ve heard the temples in Bangkok are even more incredible…

My professor for my Arts in Southeast Asia class is passionate about this area, having done his research for his Anthropology PhD here. He took us around to the Thai Buddhist temples (which we are currently learning about Thai classical art; I have been helping him out on a mural that has been in the works for 3 years, so I REALLY enjoyed seeing all of the nuances and motifs!) One was home to the largest Buddha statue in Asia (which I then assume means that it is the largest Buddha statue in the world, unless some obscure place like Des Moines, Iowa claims that title). But the Buddha statue has Chinese characteristics, but is in the Thai area of Kelantan, mainly to attract Chinese donations, however this caused quite a cultural stir if you can imagine. I have to say, going with our professor, who knows the area so well, academically and culturally, really made the exposure invigorating for the mind, body and soul. We visited with the Abbott who is the head Buddhist Monk for the entire region, at the temple grounds where our professor had attained his own status as a monk. It made the whole experience more personal when he shared with us his stories and his family’s ancestral grave. Half American, half Malay, born and raised in Singapore, and getting his PhD from Harvard in Boston, he is quite an interesting character, which a charismatic and knowledgeable and yet approachable presence that just makes being around him exciting. His willingness to share and my naturally inquisitive and curious spirit found me constantly at his side, asking questions and wanting to know more!

That evening, we went on a wild goose chase through all of the exterior villages of the region, searching for the performance of the wayang kulit (shadow puppet play). In the extremely conservative Muslim state of Kelantan (look it up- just recently, they were planning on caning and jailing a Muslim woman for getting caught drinking alcohol!) the practice and performance of the wayang kulit is illegal, because of its non-Islamic, spiritual qualities. But luckily, the state is also very corrupt, and you just have to pay off a few policemen to make it happen. It’s a part of the region’s history and culture, therefore difficult to just completely erase.

At the performance, it was raining heavily, but I was just enraptured with the music and melody of the performance, and the manner in which the puppets came to life. The whole time, my capitalist, American mindset was thinking “Oh my gosh, we need to get JayZ out here to listen to some of these beats and incorporate them into his music! Easily sell MILLIONS of records!” Wandering around more, I found myself inside the house, in a back room that could easily see into the courtyard where the wayang kulit was being performed. In the living room beside me, there were women and babies sitting around, folding origami lotus flowers and boats to be burned at midnight for the Monkey God’s birthday. In the backroom, I still don’t quite know how to explain everything that was happening. From what I could tell, there was a guy shaking with his shirt off and some sort of rope around his neck, there was a Buddha straight ahead of him, people lined along the sides, a couple beers, a glass and plate of blood, joss sticks and paper to write on. Form what I understand, they had invited the Monkey God to come watch the performance, and therefore were channeling him through different, willing individuals. Once he was really there, the inhabited would start jumping around the house, moving like a monkey. It was all quite exciting. And the coolest part to me was the mix and harmonious marriage of cultures; in an Islamic state, they are using a Javanese tradition (wayang kulit) to celebrate a Chinese god’s birthday. And being the lone yellow haired child, folding lotus flowers and observing someone inhabited by the Monkey God cutting his tongue and licking paper, made the experience even more surreal.

As long as the Monkey God stays away from this torso, I think I’ll be alright…

That being said, I must acknowledge that this is my first football season (SINCE I WAS BORN… and even before then, if you count the gestation period) to NOT be present on Kyle Field for every game; crazy, I know.

But I have been handling it better than anyone would expect. I get the updates on the scores, and I listen to the game when possible. Friends with some of the coaches on facebook, I’ll send an encouraging message every once and a while, maybe an email or two to the ladies I worked with, and of course my parents email me articles and updates on everything, most importantly my little brother’s games as a Freshman football player at Austin College in Sherman, TX. And it doesn’t hurt that Jon’s main responsibility is with the football team. He’s actually really getting in to Aggie football (an unlikely characteristic for a New Englander…) I knew he was different when he said he was more anxious about the Aggie football game than the Red Sox game. I’m eating new foods, he’s enjoying college football… what is to become of us??

But after returning to Singapore after a little over a week in Malaysia, I woke up to listen to the UAB game. This was the first time I had ever really felt a tad bit homesick since I got here.

And what an exciting game! I got a voicemail from Chandler, one of my best friends, perpetual Midnight Yell date, Ring Dance date, and an old Cav Jock, from Midnight Yell the day before (side note on Chandler, he is actually the guy pictured on the Utah State ticket stub for season ticket holders!). Listening to Dave South announce each fumble, touchdown, pass and play was such a comfort, not to mention hearing spurts of the 12^th Man and the Aggie band and the cannon go boom! I was just too elated to simultaneously study (which was the original plan). Jon kept emailing my photos from the game, and I missed my home- Kyle Field- more than ever before.

When Dave had announced he had gotten an email from a guy listening in Japan, he and the other announcers got all impressed. ‘Ha!’ I thought to myself. ‘I can do better than that!’

Before I left, I told the coaches and the staff and even Dave, who is no stranger to our office, that I was leaving for Singapore and I’d be listening in when I could. I figured an email to Dave would be a nice reminder. So I emailed him, sending my best wishes to BEAT THE HELL OUTTA UAB!

Within minutes, he was telling my story on the air, about my father’s letterman status, my former employment and my current situation. A number of people must have been listening because I got quite a few messages from old friends saying “Wait, what are you doing in SINGAPORE??”

And I have to say, there is quite an international Aggie crowd; I was chatting on Google Chat with one of my friends in China, updating him on the status of the game. The Aggies I know here in Singapore were texting me as well, and more people kept emailing in from the Middle East, Korea and other parts of the world. I got really pumped for my International Aggie community!

GIG’EM AGGIES!

Arriving to the town at 5:00AM, I managed to get a taxi (without a voice) and pull up to the River View Guest House (which is FANTASTIC and a must stay for all those planning to visit Melaka) and although I have a booking for the upcoming evening (I hadn’t anticipated arriving this early) much to my dismay, the sign out front reads “full house”. With nowhere else to go, I ring the doorbell, wake up the kind couple who own the establishment, and they let me in, show me around, and I crash on the couch. Of course I call Jon as soon as I can get internet connection on my Skypephone, and hearing the concern in his voice just made me miss him even more intensely. But that is a whole other blog.

Much in need of a shower, I wake up the next morning (or, a few hours later) and after an orientation of town from the genuinely welcoming hosts, I surprise them by dropping my bags into my checked room and begin wandering around the city. An extremely old city, Malacca has been home to the Portuguese, Dutch, British and Japan at one point or another in history. They even have this red building district that used to be home to the Dutch. It is very beautiful, walking among these old buildings, all painted the same color of deep, rich, rust. The importance of this port for the spice trade and otherwise has somewhat allowed this old town to freeze in time. I have heard many Singaporeans say that when they want to remember what Singapore was like in the early days, they go to Melaka.

Wandering down Jonker street, famous for antiques, Peranakan memorabilia and particular foods I just HAD to try (by recommendation from my Penang friends- including the Portuguese Egg Tart-even MORE like crème brulee- and Chicken Rice balls, where the rice is actually shaped into a sustainable sphere, and makes for fun eating) but after a while of wandering without a voice (it was kind of interesting to travel voiceless for a day; even if you don’t speak the language, I forget how much spoken word can actually help in communication… it made me ponder more seriously about traveling for people with disabilities. Uh oh, I feel a research thesis coming on…) I decided to head back. In the evening there was supposed to be Karaoke and a night street market all along Jonker Street, not to mention I wanted to take the boat ride down the river. As exhausted as I was, I figured exploring the town and the Peranakan mansions was enough for the afternoon. It would be best to get some shut eye.

Returning to the hostel, I spread out on one of the two double beds I had booked. I splurged and paid the $14USD for the space and the privacy, and boy was it worth it. I hadn’t slept in a bed that big since I had lived in Texas!

Waking up just in time to enjoy the night market and go on the riverboat cruise (which was all spoken in Malay; the guy must have been pretty funny, because the people around me kept laughing! I just enjoyed seeing different parts of the city lit up, and enjoying the cool breeze rolling off the water) I couldn’t help but be reminded that I was alone. Not that it is a bad thing; I have always loved traveling alone in the past, and I’m quite good at making friends (even better with functional vocal chords) but I began to yearn for more consistent companionship, someone to share my memories and adventures with. As of right now, blogging about them is the one of the more unselfish things I can do with my opportunities, sharing what I have experienced and what I am learning and witnessing with others, otherwise, it would all just be kept to myself.

Walking back that evening, minding my own business and trying to find solace in my solitude, I was caught off guard and handed the heart stopper of my recent life; Apparently I passed by a late night butcher shop, and when I turned to my side, there was a human sized pig, with its pink, fleshy skin and its almost human like grin frozen on its face, lying on its back with only its entrails cut out. For a second I could have sworn it was a human!! Needless to say, I walked down the dark alleys back to my hostel at midnight a little bit quicker!

Next day… Singapore. Back to the unnatural level of cleanliness that I call home!

What a fantastic experience, trying new foods with the guidance of my experienced comrades. I was taught how to open and eat this complicated crustacean (we never did figure out the bugger’s English name)

The highlight of the eating experience had to be… the octopus tentacle. Now, I have had a bite of octopus tentacle before, and while my exhilaration at having eaten all of these new things was nothing to write home about according to my friends who have been in Asia for a while (I called it ‘Asian eating for beginners’ or ‘Asia Lite’) but even my girl friends at the table said that this octopus tentacle was exceptionally large. I knew it would be gross, but I ate it anyway.

Gosh, who am I turning in to?? Andrew Zimmerman?? (Okay, not quite, but I was quite proud of myself.) As far as the eating goes, I am convinced that there is a large gap between western and eastern taste buds. Of course, one can never generalize, but the taste of fishy, salty fish and seaweed will never be appealing to me.

Oh, I forgot to mention that at this point, I’ve completely lost my voice, so whenever I did speak, I sounded slightly like a heavily cigar smoking man. Luckily though, my friends and pharmacists, and Chinese, so they took me out for Chinese medicated tea; it is very bitter, but then they give you a sip of sweet tea afterwards. It is supposed to cool your whole system down. I’m a believer; after a few more cups and a good night’s rest, my voice came back, but that’s in the future. First, I have to live out my most horrified nightmare…

To be in a foreign country, with no cash, and an ATM/credit card that is blocked, and an automated answering service.

Owing my friends some money for the fish spa and buying my bus ticket, not to mention needing some money for Malacca, before the bus station, we stopped at an ATM. That one didn’t work, so we stopped at another. And another. And another.

(You can imagine the profanities droning through my head right about now)

Using my friend’s cell phone to call long distance, the numbers on the back of the bank card don’t work. Eventually we try again, and once I get through, it is completely automated, which ordinarily would have been fine, except that I was withdrawing in Malaysian Ringitt, and the computer was asking me in USD. While I knew the rough guesstimate, I didn’t want to confirm or deny the integrity of my card, going 100 kmph down the highway, without a calculator and a dead accurate exchange rate.

Much to my surprise, and mental health, one of the guys just handed me 300 ringitt. “Don’t worry about it; we’ll get it all figured out later. The important thing is that you are taken care of and that you get all of this worked out. Now, let’s go get you some snacks and some water for the bus ride.” I couldn’t believe it, the kindness that the shown on me just continually surprised me. Once again, my friend reminded me of the Chinese proverb that he had mentioned before, “When you are in the home, your family takes care of you. When you are outside of the home, your friends take care of you.” I don’t know how many new friends out there would be so keen on such a kind gesture.

Helping me on to the bus, we said our goodbyes, and they invited me to visit them again in Penang any time! I told them that I hoped that I could show them the same kindness in the United States! The girls brought me tea for my throat. They waved me off, as I write Chinese characters, expressing my gratitude and saying goodbye, of course not without their correction!

Of all the plenty in Penang, I am the luckiest of all, to be plentiful with love and friendship.

Try to envision this: you walking in, take off your shoes, rinse your feet, and sit on the edge of a small pool of fish while you dangle your feet in the water, and hundreds of little fish surround you, nibbling and sucking on your feet and calves.

counting down at the fish spa

I was flipping out. Although this was something that I had wanted to do since coming to Southeast Asia (you see these spas advertised everywhere) when I actually put my feet in the water, I got super anxious. Knowing that my camera battery was dying, they went out of their way to recharge it for me, taking it to their cousin’s house after realizing that their mother’s charger wouldn’t work, and all between dropping me off at 1:00am and picking me back up for breakfast at 8:00am!

For breakfast, we went to another hawker center for Dim Sum and white coffee. Here was where among many new foods I encountered the egg tart, what I like to describe as the Asian interpretation of crème brulee. The guys headed off to work, and I began to once again discover the city.

I started with Dr. Sun Yat Sen’s Penang headquarters; the man who fought for the People’ Republic of China had a number of locations outside the country to plan his revolution, Penang being one of them. Learning basic Chinese Language and getting to be more familiar with their culture made me cognizant that I am very unaware of their origins. How did they go from dynasties to this Capitalist Communist Industrial Revolution system they have now? Re-acquainting me with my own country’s history only enlightened this experience in comparison.

Next I was on a bus to Kek Lok Si temple, a huge colorful array of Buddhas and brass and flowers on the side of the beautiful small range of mountains in the center of the island. I got into conversation with Dave, an older British traveler who has been working in Australia for over 30 years. We got in to great conversation as we snapped photos and climbed our way to the top of the temple, him sharing with me some of his experiences with the monks in other Buddhist temples. A lot of them never live outside of the monastery, never giving them the opportunity to feel real bliss, or sorrow. Their lifelong goal is to rid themselves of earthly desires so as to improve their next life. But Dave’s argument was that that in itself is a desire, and so it is impossible to rid yourself of desire completely. I have to agree with him; life in a monastery is not reality; yes there is no sorrow, but there is no bliss either. How can you reach nirvana or heaven if you never know the difference?

Losing track of time, I ran out of time to take the cable track car up the mountain (even though I walked in the hot sun all the way through the village and up to the docking station- not all was lost, I saw a large salamander in the small drainage ditch along the way) and to go to the snake temple (by the time 4:00 hit, the traffic jams had already begun.) With only a short amount of time, I decided I’d wander around, window shop, until it was time for my friends to pick me up for dinner. Not planning on buying anything, I actually found a pretty good price on a camera for Jon. Desperately in need of a new one, and a huge supporter of my freeze-proof, water-proof, drop-safe Olympus camera, I had considered getting this as a present for him since I got here. (Don’t worry, he doesn’t read my blog, so the secret is not out!) I pull out just enough money to purchase the camera for a great deal, and head back to the hostel.

By the time I get back, my voice is gone, and my friends are ready to take me on yet another gastronomic adventure!

Most days, I’m just ridiculously glad to be living out my dream.  I’ve wanted to work in a HeadStart center since high school, and I just happened to leave a general application online for several jobs at College Station ISD that fits my current position.  My days are tiring, but there’s something rewarding about being Miss Southerland from 7:30-3:30 everyday.

I’m interviewing for longer term jobs next week and it’s all just surreal in some ways.  It doesn’t seem like that long ago that I was being picked up from school; now, I’m watching the bus line!

I don’t know if I’ll stick with public education longterm, but it’s an education of its own to learn what elementary school teachers go through just to develop youngsters into people ready to take on the world.

In any case, I am exhausted, have work to do, and the Chinese food I ordered just arrived.  More later!

Day 1 of ACL. Note, no rain … YET.

Arctic Monkeys was still amazing, despite standing barefoot in the mud.

Oh Hello crowd.

Girl Talk aka the craziest performance I have seen to date. It was just 2 laptops and nonstop remix music.

Girl Talk’s ongoing dance party

Game ticket…check

Camera…check

Umbrella…uh oh!

This week wasn’t your typical Aggie football game. We played the Razorbacks at the new Dallas Cowboy’s stadium. Being both an avid Aggie and Cowboys football fan, I felt the trip to Arlington was more of a pilgrimage than a three hour road trip.

My friends and I left College Station at 2:00 on Saturday. Whenever I go on a road trip, I always have the radio on, but when you are with friends, you don’t even notice that it is off. I honestly don’t remember what we talked about for three hours, but the time flew by. The weather outside was horrible, but the atmosphere inside the car was amazing. We were laughing the entire way to Arlington. When we were about a mile away from the stadium, we were in utter disbelief. Words cannot describe how massive the structure was. I attempted to take a picture of it with my phone, but the entire building wouldn’t fit in one shot.

Before the game we wanted to eat lunch/dinner (something I like to call ‘linner’), since we are college students and can’t afford stadium food. On the way to a pizza joint, we drove past my accounting professor. I always find it strange when I see my professors outside of school. I forget that they have lives outside of class, but sure enough I saw her and her boyfriend marooned out and ready for the game. When we parked the car outside of the restaurant, a man tapped on our window and told us parking was $50, if we weren’t eating. Every store and restaurant was offering game day parking for ridiculous prices, but thankfully I had purchased a parking permit two weeks in advance.

After we finished eating, we drove to the parking lot and parked the car. It began to rain as soon as we started walking to the stadium. By the time we got inside, we were soaked, but we were too excited to care. The first thing you see as you walk in is the huge 60 yard long replay screen. It’s kind of like the HD TV you have at home, but on steroids. We found our seats and were amazed at the number of people attending the game. I’ve never seen so many people at one time before.

The game didn’t go as expected, and ultimately the Aggies ran out of time before they could make their comeback. As we said goodbye to the stadium, it started to rain again. Mother Nature seems to always know when you are outside without an umbrella. The late night ride home was filled with old stories as everyone tried to stay awake. I’ve come to realize that it doesn’t really matter where you are going, as long as you have good friends to share the journey with.

The ferry was packed, so we had to split up to sit. Across the aisle from me were two white guys, one with a t-shirt on emblazoned with the Texas flag. They didn’t LOOK American, much less Texan, but I just had to ask. Before they could answer, their British accents did the talking for them.

Later into the trip, we end up in conversation; both of them grew up together in Bournemouth, UK, and were both going about different ways of becoming pilots. One is currently in the Royal Air Force while the other is studying Aeronautical Engineering. Backpacking through Southeast Asia, when I inquire about their lodging, they invite me to accompany them to their hostel.

The next morning, the British guys leave early for their flight to Hong Kong, and my friends head to work, leaving me with the entire day, and the entire city to myself. In the lobby of the hostel (which was fantastically clean and accommodating for the price and location) I saw a flyer for the Spice Gardens. Sounded good to me, so I hopped on a bus and headed that direction, which took me through the entire city, revealing the tourist areas, the older buildings and establishments (some of which were mentioned in my book about a young Peranakan girl) the beaches, the markets and the residential areas.

In the spice gardens, I managed to latch on to the back of what seemed like a two person tour, but turns out it was the two guy’s cab driver who just happened to know a lot about spices, herbs, plants and the history of the spice trade. He answered all my questions and picked the leaves and spices out for us to try. I love spices, and use them all the time while cooking (Jon says I over-season the food… he just doesn’t know what is good) so to learn about not only where and how they come to be, but the bloody history that has made them everyday commodities… before there was Blood Diamond, it was Blood Clove. Just makes me a little bit more appreciative for the flavors on my table.

That evening, my friends picked me up and wanted to take me out for some of Penang’s finest food (this city is infamous for their good food. Whenever I told anyone in Singapore that I was going to Penang, they all exhaled and told me what to eat, followed by an explanation “I gained 5KG while I was there!”) It was raining outside, which inevitably means it is going to flood (the drainage system in the city is nonexistent) so our access routes were limited.  Walking through the crowded outdoor arrangement of hawker stalls, table and umbrellas, my friends laugh at the stares we are getting; there aren’t very many white people around (if at all) and apparently no one has ever seen two Chinese guys with one white woman together. I take a seat, and the food starts coming in heaps. I cannot even remember all I tried; pandan chicken, asum laksa, rojak, Taiwanese sausage, some peanut flour thing, char kway teow (my favorite)… definitely some new tastes, things I had never thought to put together (like fresh fruit and raw squid?) but little did I know that the fun had just begun…

Certain things happen for certain reasons, and I don’t think I could have chosen a better time to turn on the TV.  As soon as I tuned in, ESPN was reporting a story about a running back from the University of Southern California football team who was in a weight lifting accident.  While working out with 275 pounds on bench press, the bar suddenly slipped out of his hand and landed directly on his neck.  He suffered from multiple injuries to his throat including a crushed larynx and other significant damage in his neck.  Doctors are saying he was actually lucky to live through this devistating accident.  He was rushed to the hospital and then had over ten hours of surgery performed in attempt to repair the damage.  He is now doing much better and communicating with others.  Although his football season may be over, and possibly his football career, this tough young man will have a degree in only a few months and a life ahead of him that was spared by the good Lord.

As I watched this story, I couldn’t help but consider myself in this situation and realize I am not really in a bind.  It’s just school.  Everyone goes through tough times when they are in college.  When times get tough, rise to the occasion and make yourself and those who are pulling for you proud.  My point of this entire message is that no matter how tough things may seem and how much you are not loving life at the moment, things could always be worse.  This man’s life was spared, and for what reason other than already impacting me, I do not know.  What I do know is that worrying about things is about like a rocking chair, it’ll give you something to do, but it won’t get you anywhere.  Don’t sweat the small stuff, and God Bless ’till next time from Aggieland.

Forgive me.

Between selling advertising space in The Edge magazine at the business career fair today, studying for 3 exams in the coming week, and preparing to start my first full time job within the next few days, life is c-r-a-z-y. 

The first issue of the magazine that I will have been in charge of should hit stands in 3 weeks.  I have no idea what to expect on this International Communication exam, and online health classes are the dear friends of my GPR (so far).  My job will be as a bilingual aide in a HeadStart classroom here in College Station.    I am excited.

In my mind, beyond all of the intellectual excitement, all of these are monotone statements right now. Seeing as it’s 1:37 a.m., I am just finishing editing a powerpoint that two other Business Student Council execs and I are presenting at tomorrow’s Student Leader Institute.  Titled “Going From Good to Great”, we’re talking about some of our best practices that have enabled us to go on professional trips out of state, publish a quarterly magazine, put on one of the largest career fairs in the nation and effectively run like a business staffed by student volunteers.  Caught up in the details of it all, I forget sometimes how incredible it is to be a part of the things we do for Mays, Texas A&M and our members.  (*Continue obnoxious rant on just how good we are…Ha.)

Phew.  I have to be up early in the morning, but I thought I’d write a quick update (even though I am deliriously tired.)  This is the life I imagined when I set out my agenda for The College Years, but I sure am exhausted! Nonetheless, if this comes with the territory–I’ll take it all.

It is going to be weird next year to come home to a new home. We’ve lived in the same neighborhood since I was in 4th grade. It’s where I learned that sports and athleticism was not my thing … VIA neighbor swim and tennis teams. It’s also where I learned to drive … VIA my mom and my best friend screaming while I drove in circles around the elementary school. However, I’m so excited for my parents to start a new chapter in their lives AKA relaxing.

In other terms of new things, my dad … Mr. Technology …. is suspending the e-mail/ internet service off my phone in exchange for a Peek Pronto. It’s a device that is built in a style of a Blackberry / PDA phone, but is only for e-mails, texting, maps and weather. So far it’s pretty cool. In terms of e-mails there is tons more storage than my current phone (which broke down 2 weeks ago because it couldn’t hold all my e-mails). And I think my dad feels good about me wasting less time on Facebook and the fact that he doesn’t have to pay for overpriced internet service for my phone anymore. The downside is that the text messages I send out of it says “get a peek” …. great … I’m a walking AD. And the other downside is that I’m going to be walking around campus with 2 similar looking devices. So if you see me, please try not to make fun of me. It makes me look kind of lame … Trust me, I know … But I basically had an emotional break down when I couldn’t get e-mails. Thus, it’s an easy common fact of life: looking lame outweighs breakdowns.

Ever since I got back from Paris over Spring break, I have wanted to go abroad again. For the last two weeks I have been researching various study abroad programs, but I haven’t had much luck in finding the perfect program for me. I want to go somewhere in Western Europe and I need to take business classes while I am there. I found a couple of programs that might work, but they are either too expensive or not the right credit.

I was about to give up on my search, but then I went to one of my student organization meetings. The discussion topic of the day was study abroad! Two students that had gone abroad over the summer spoke to us about their experiences. One went to Italy and took two classes taught by an A&M professor, while the other volunteered at an animal shelter in Australia. Each had many exciting stories to share, and they both agreed that everyone should go abroad if they have the opportunity. This made my desire to go abroad ten times greater, and I continued my search.

I have now narrowed my search down to two summer abroad programs. One is a four week trip across several European countries, and the other is a five week class taught in Barcelona, Spain. Now I have to go speak with a couple of people to see if I can make one of these trips possible. First I need to talk with an academic advisor to see if I can use the international credits towards my degree. I also need to find out if I can go abroad while in the Professional Program of Accounting. Next I need to speak with a financial aid advisor to see if I can even afford this trip. Hopefully a summer trip won’t put too much of a strain on my bank account.

My study abroad trip is still in the early stages, but hopefully everything will work out. An international experience will be fun and it will look nice on my resume. If I can’t go this summer, I guess there is always next year.

Malaysia, a predominantly Muslim country, yet that still tolerates all religious practices, has a national holiday for Hari Raya, the end of the month of fasting known as Ramadan. I met my friends my first weekend in Singapore. They are  big fans of the Liverpool Football Club, and their team was playing an exhibition game against the Singapore National Team that weekend. We shared a hostel, and a few short conversations.  We exchanged emails and they invited me up to Penang, where they live, sometime during my time in Asia. When it came time for recess week, I shot them a message, and there I went!

As soon as I got to the pier, there was a swell of relief, and then reality set in… I have no idea where we are staying. My friends aren’t here. This place is crowded, they’ll never find me. My cell phone doesn’t work; I try a payphone, THAT doesn’t work. I paid a stranger 50 Malaysian Ringitt cents (approx. 14cents) to use their phone, and I learn that they are on their way.

We hit the ground running. I meet their other friends, Benny, Yi Ling, Joo Chin, and Chin See, and we head off for a photo session with the Giant Eagle statue. Helang is Malay for Eagle, hence Langkawi island.  They have a number of eagles in residence, which we saw feed from our small boat tour in the Geopark, where we also walked through a bat cave (sans Batmobile, but with plenty potential vampires hanging overhead) and a fish farm, where we fed barracuda, pet stingray, received head massages from horseshoe crabs and witnessed spitting fish (these fish actually spit at a piece of bread in order to make it fall into the water to consume. How in the world do you figure out that a fish can do that?!?)

Next we find ourselves riding a gondola up nearly 700 meters to the top of the mountains on Langkawi.  Witnessing beautiful sunsets, walking across a small bridge at a massive height and taking PLENTY of photos along the way, it was a beautiful way to spend the day. But I still feel gross, and yearn for that warm shower. I haven’t had one for almost three days now.

In the evenings were my food adventures. Most of the time, they conversed with each other in Chinese (mostly Hokkien, their dialect) or Malay, and whenever they used English I knew they were going out of their way to include me, which I appreciated. I tried a variety of foods, from squid, to fried lobster (much different than the lobstah I had in Maine) to fish, complete with its head, and a whole array of other delicacies new to my taste buds. Needless to say, once we got back to the hotel, while the rest of the crew partied it up all night in the other room, I passed out in the big comfy bed, in the air conditioned room, from exhaustion. This was the holiday I needed.

I don’t know why I never did this before, or why it has taken me this long. Growing up, I was obsessed with being a mermaid.  I scooted around the house with my Dad’s tube sock pulled up to my waist, attaching two Houston Oilers pom-poms to the bottom for flippers. I went to Camp Sea World for most of my Elementary and Junior High Summers. My favorite books were The Rainbow Fish, Han Christian Anderson’s The Little Mermaid (with pictures!) and some underwater ABCs book. Each July, I looked forward to watching the same documentaries on the Discovery Channel for Shark Week. The water has always been a spiritual place for me, and it has always just amazed me. And now, I am certified to be closer to this haven than ever before.

So here I am, on the small Pulau Aur (Pulau is Malay for Island) just south of Pulau Tioman; Pulau Aur is not marked on most maps, so you have to know about it to get there.  We left Singapore at 7pm, and after bus rides, border crossings, freezing cold ferries, and multiple motorboat rides, we arrive at the modest dive ‘resort’ at 6am. We have breakfast in an hour and a half and we’ll be back out to sea by 8:30am for a full day of 3 dives.

The atmosphere on the dive boat is buzzing with anticipation; our wetsuits are well, wet, and cold. We are stumbling over each other, preparing our tanks and BCDs, checking and double checking because the last thing you want is to be underwater without any air. But once we all get in the water, and we descend into the deep blue, all is quiet, still, slow and controlled. It’s an escape from reality, entering into a world that is not your own, yet you feel somewhat akin to it. It’s not unlike studying abroad; I am not Asian, but being a part of their world (excuse the Little Mermaid musical reference, but it is just too appropriate) you grow closer to it; you begin to understand and identify with their life, their reality. Kind of like all the life I witnessed under the sea…

While swimming around, we saw tons of interesting animals, from stingray, to sea turtles, to crazy colored fish and squid and crabs and a WALL of BARRACUDAS (apparently they are dangerous when they are alone, but a school of them are safe) and those little brightly colored Christmas tree looking things that live on the side of the reef and retreat quickly back into their holes when you swim by. While our dive instructor, Joey, was pointing out the dangerous trigger fish, I was the only one in the group that saw the sea turtle swimming not so far beside us on the other side. I named him Ted, for Ted Williams, the great Boston Red Sox batter. (That Boston boyfriend has really gotten to me!)

The next morning, after a night of relaxing, eating and visiting with my dive buddies and our instructor (On a side note, it was our instructor’s birthday, so he and a few of us participated in their tradition of wearing a mask and drinking beer out of a snorkel… THAT was an experience! It didn’t occur to me until it was happening that you wouldn’t be able to BREATHE while chugging…) I woke up to my alarm at 6:00 in the morning. I looked out to the cold water outside my window, and couldn’t wait to get out of my warm bed. Knowing full well that I had a cold shower with little to NO water wait for me back at the dive resort, followed by 28 hours of traveling on countless ferries, and buses, and taxis, I couldn’t wait to get back out in the water, back to my world of wonder.

Down here it’s better, down where it’s wetter, take it from me!

Yesterday was the first time I have ever taken a test COMPLETELY COLD TURKEY, with zero preparation.

The United States, from Settlement to Superpower also known as HY2237 at NUS; our first exam was an open book, one question, one hour essay exam.  So far we have covered early colonization to through the Civil War… Just to give you an idea of the course, the entire first lecture was spent explaining the checks and balances system of government….

Now of course, I cannot rag on the course too much- the content is all the same, but the context is completely different.  I am the only American in the class of 200 or so, and truth be told the entire concept of America and its history can be very intimidating if learning for the first time (of course this is my oh, I dunno, millionth time to hear it) but I don’t feel bad at all about my dramatic advantage- there are people chatting in Mandarin prior to my Chinese Language course. Thanks a lot NUS for grading on a curve.

But it truly is an unparalleled experience; to learn from a Singaporean professor, in a Singaporean classroom, filled with Asian students. I’d hate to think of what the class thinks about me, constantly playing devil’s advocate and vehemently more vocal than the entire class combined (Asian students don’t speak much, especially when asked to. Whoever could figure out a way to teach public speaking skills to Asian students could make a lot of money, because they all have such great ideas and interpretations when you speak with them one on one, but they tend to keep it all to themselves.) We focus a lot on the experience of Americans that aren’t ‘old white guys’ and as my professor said herself, she isn’t a military history person, so there will be no memorizing dates of battles or generals, etc. instead it will be focused on the impact of the actions.

So come test time, and my unprepared self begins to formulate a response to the text written before me, “Thomas Jefferson and the Founding Fathers of the American Revolution had no intention of including women, African-Americans or Native Americans in their declaration of inalienable rights of men. Discuss.”

My pencil met the paper and eight pages later bid adieu; I referenced examples from tutorial readings and probably included some factors that I inherently just knew from exposure and experience, but in the end concluded that no, they had no intentions of including women, African-Americans or Native Americans, but then again did not make any effort to completely exclude them, at least in their formulation of the Constitution. I pointed out that to talk about history, you have to be conscious of the time in which history happened, and at the time, most (if not all) African Americans in the United States were slaves: our Founding Fathers were slave holders: slaves were property to them: our pets are property to us now: you wouldn’t give your cat rights. Many Native Americans were fighting against the Americans during the American Revolution, for the most part, they did not want to see the organization of the settlers against them: they fought against the Patriots: Native Americans were their enemies in that sense: you wouldn’t give your enemy rights. And lastly, women in early America didn’t want rights, they wanted protection and privileges: you wouldn’t give rights to people who didn’t want them, much less fail to ask for them.  The focus was on setting up a system where those who wanted their rights were able to gain them, even if it took a long hard battle. As one of the world’s oldest living documents, I’d say that the founding fathers did a pretty good job.

Speaking of football, our Ags are 2-0 heading into this weekend’s game with Alabama-Birmingham.  The offense seems to be clicking after lighting up the scoreboard for over thirty points in their first two games.  Lets hope we can continue this trend once Big 12 action starts.  I can’t say the same about my beloved Cowboys.  For the longest time, I have defended Tony Romo, and claimed him to be the franchise quarterback that will lead the ‘Boys back to the big game.  After this past weekend, I may be changing my opinion of the Cowboy’s signal caller.  I just hope they can eventually find an Aikman-like gunslinger to prove that they really are America’s team.

The weekend was full of excitement here in Aggieland.  I was able to spend time with some old friends, see some close friends get their Aggie Rings, and embrace the true spirit of Aggieland.  Saturday, I watched my old roommate dunk his ring at his family’s tailgate.  He had many of our old high school friends in town to join in on this event that many Aggies love.  From there, I made my rounds throughout campus and enjoyed many amazing tailgating hot spots.  When I write this blog, I hope to send a message to past, present, and future Aggies, but at the same time, I seem to get more out of this than most would expect.  Writing throughout the week allows me to reflect and realize how great this place really is.  When I look back to Saturday, I want to paint the picture that I had in my eyes.  After going from one spot to another, I was able to meet up with my mom’s lifelong best friend.  As I sat in a lawn chair under their tent, I looked out through the crowds, and it was such a pleasant scene.  I’m not quite sure what part I am more enthused and prideful about, but I would love to discuss the feeling that it gave me.  First of all, the commraderie of the people is really indescribable until you experience it for yourself.  There are tents, chairs, and grills everywhere, and you won’t see someone in anything but maroon.  A truly relaxing environment to say the least.  The other thing that I am astonished by is the loyalty in the atmosphere.  Many of the adults that take part in tailgating are former students that come back to celebrate with friends, families, and also kids who currently attend A&M.  These people love to give back to others because that is just what Aggies do.  They serve others and they don’t expect anything in return.  I may come across as a broken record, but sometimes I feel like I have to be.  Lots of friends tell me I am not as intense about A&M as I should be, but deep down I feel that I am.  I am passionate about this university, and hope to follow in the footsteps of so many who came before me and give back one day too.  Until next time, God Bless from Aggieland!