life on the move. i've been carrying my toothbrush in my shoulder bag for the past week...along with the other essentials in my life: my keys to the school (where I have parked my clothes) and the ever present small change (for buses and/or 10 cent ice cream). I'm loving my loner holidays. Also, I have this big hunk of peace sitting in my chest.

i'm going to the beach tomorrow, will be basking in the sun for 5 days, and back to posting again on the 28th. have a good gift unwrapping session, everyone, and dont just say thank you to the sky because you're told to. my sister is in canada this holiday. poor sucka, little ecuadorian warmblood freezing in the bitter chill of a family-less christmas. im going to go to bed to sleep restlessly. i saw someone i really love today. i ate something i really enjoyed.i made something i'm really pleased with. i hope all your christmases are filled with this and more. see jesus. be jesus. just like everyday of your life.

bethlehem

by banksy

is it true, that our achivements may make us interesting, but our darkness makes us lovable?

homeless for the holidays

oh man. my room is so spic and span...i cant remember it ever being this clean...because jannas parents are moving into it soon, and that gives me refugee status until january 5 ah, the holidays. christmas sucks but new years is awesome. I was reading an old letter that my grampa sent me, during my first week at Capernwray, and it was about times when he was in a new place, feeling uncertain of his surroundings...Senegal, Grenada, Victoria...and what he did. It made me...feel. Reading it. I dont know why I've kept it this long, it was just a printed email. But as I read it... Is it possible to feel homesick for homelessness?

my fridge today (angela, you might enjoy this)

impressions

an elderly englishmans heavily accented spanish worship a request from a friend you thought was serious ends up being grammar related, but still, he asked for help. a young child when asked where his brother has been for the past week he missed schoool says: "They operated on his nut" (huevo) all these flickering impressions. like douglas coupland moments.

i cant write. im ok, but i cant remember what normal feels like

Jonny boy now has a blog :) :) :) http://sacmagique.blogspot.com/

do you remember the first time you saw the sky?

have you ever felt like you are changing into a person that your friends wouldn't recognize?

Why did the lobster blush?

Just got back from the airport. Picked up my Uncle Paul. I havent seen him since he dropped me off at Heathrow in April. He used the word "chooseday" in reference to the day that comes after monday and before wednesday. And then he broke out the Penguins. Heaven.

NOCHE EN EL PARQ'

sheesh last night i couldn't sleep i was so pumped. today i am so exhausted because i didn't rest well, so the pumped feeling is wearing off. last night was...i still dont know what to call it. We called it "Night in the Park" on the brochures...my choice...and some of my friends thought that was lame, but i liked the simplicity. we built a 3mx3m stage out of plywood, strung a bed sheet between the streetlight and a bamboo pole, and set up a sound and light system that seemed to be held together by masking tape and safety pins...and had ourselves a show in the park. The night before I was up until 12, pounding the streets in the slum, handing out the flyers to winos, families, football players at the field, kids, shopkeepers, and everyone in between. "Night in the Park. 7 pm in the park next to the catholic church. Music, videos and drama. Who is Jesus and what does he have to do with anything...etc" It was NEAT. Neat to watch everybody rally around the project. Neat to see church teens excited to be in a drama in front of all their neighbourhood peers...and do a wonderful job, too: they presented a tight show about one persons search for meaning. there was humour and a clear message. The park we did it in is on the main dirt road that leads out of the slum onto the highway were all the buses go by, so everybody on the hill has to walk past it to get to school/work. It was quite the mixed audience. ALSO, its the hub for the local chapter of the Rebel People gang...thats scary to people who don't live in Bastion, but i know alot of them by name or by reputation by now, and they dont really bother me, they know me, too. (the night before, we had a gang-related disturbance at youth group, a group of 12 New People gang members had come to the meeting, and kids from the Rebel People gang who usually come to the meeting weren't too thrilled about the "turf invasion"...threats were made, challenges issued, and my dad had to drive the New People kids back to their neighbourhood after the meeting, because if they had walked, they would have been beat up a block away.) The drama was great...the concert bit was the weakest, but it hardly mattered. we'll get the sound box right next time. we worked like a team. I was on the projector and DVD machine...stressed, but there were no glitches. Except when the extension cord everything was connected to short circuited...in the middle of a song...the church members who were scattered throughout the crowd just started singing the song really really loud, as the band continued, "a la unplugged", and wonder-man Alex scrambled over the wall and into the nearby school we were borrowing power from...it was sorted out in two minutes, i think, and things went on like normal. This is Ecuador. Something like that is anticipated for, if not expected. Ah. Anyways. I'm riding on a high. I hope we do this again, maybe at the Cancha Amarilla, maybe in Block 10, who knows. My favourite part I think was seeing the different "generations" of youth in the church (the oldest one=my vintage...the "buenos muchachos", mostly in high school or first year U, and the "newbies"...12 to 15 year olds), and the older folk too, take ownership over different aspects of it...the set up, the music, the sounds and lights, the advertising, the clean-up...but work together at the same time...and feel good after it was over, because it was such a success, and it was all theirs. All theirs! i got invited to someones house for lunch today, i just hope its vegetarian.

i did a quiz today with my kindergarteners and they all got 5/5 some days the sun just shines :)

email to grampa

The communities I visited: Meñepare and Gareno; are both on the "road". You cad drive there. As far as I heard, this makes them very different from the other communities, the ones you can only get to walking or in an MAF or oil company plane. I am determined to make it to one of those communities some day. The tribe, though. The most distinctive characteristic of the Huaorani tribe is that they are so easy to influence...they WANT to copy what you do, and they all want to do what everybody else is doing. Essentially, that means that both the missionaries and the oil company have made mountains of changes...but don't get excited for the missionaries because there is never any commitment to the changes, the next time something new rolls around it takes precedence. One missionary I asked says the Huaorani tribe is the one that has had the most missionary influence over the years, and yet the less growth or commitment to God. I was confused, though, by a lot of what I learnt about the culture. There seem to be a lot of contradictions. I was only exposed to it for about a week, hardly enough time to get a good picture, and I am hesitant to come to any conclusions. we went as guests, mostly, but also did some bible lessons for kids...let me just say i was extremely uncomfortable doing that, in a cultural context i didn't understand, in a language they only understood minimally. i was reluctant, knowing how much damage missionaries have done to the gospel by pressing their CULTURE on people that don't share it, instead of presenting the TRUTH in a universal way...all done in ignorance. i felt very much in ignorance, and i really didn't want to make mistakes. \r\n \r\ni enjoyed a lot of it. it takes the Huaorani tribe a long time to warm up and trust newcomers, so the first days were hard, me being used to Bastión. It was SO different. In hte second place, one little girl walked up to me the first day I was there and wanted to hold my hand. In Bastión, I wouldn\'t have batted an eye, but it wazs the first time a kid was so forward, I did some investigation and discovered she was the daughter of the schoolteacher, they were Kitchwa Indian, not Huaorani, and had lived mostly in the city. Then it made sense. \r\n\r\n \r\nMost of the schoolteachers aren\'t Huaorani...most Huaorani don\'t even graduate high school, and if they do, they sure aren\'t going to come back to the jungle. There is a law that the local education board has that the schoolteachers (mostly Kitchwa) can\'t remain at their post as village school teacher for more than 2 years. I don\'t think I like that law very much, it doesn\'t make sense to me in a culture that is naturally wary of newcomers, but what do I know about it. \r\n\r\n \r\nThe oil company seems to have effected life so deeply. Young men can go away (leave their families), work for the oil company and get $300 for two weeks work: an exhorbitant amount in Bastión, even more so in the jungle communities where truly, they don\'t even need money! When they get this much money, they don\'t know the real worht of it, and go into the city to buy stuff and get r ipped off by the local business men, anyways! They return to their tribe with either expensive things that are useless(refrigerators in communities where the generator only provides electricity for 4 hours a day) or useless things that were expensive ("$100 for a sack of potatoes? Sure, I\'ve got the money")...and all the while, parents are being irresponsible with their families. Also, within the first day I ran into a social ill i didn\'t expect to find in the Amazon jungle: alcohol. Two drunk youth who wouldn\'t let us past a road block through their village. One of the misisonaries I was with said that oiul executives fly in, the whole tribe gathers around their plane and they say "We have brought a gift for you!" and instead of giving them a lawnmover or a generator or something the whole community can benefit from, they toss the crowd a keg of beer. \r\n",1] ); //--> i enjoyed a lot of it. it takes the Huaorani tribe a long time to warm up and trust newcomers, so the first days were hard, me being used to Bastión. It was SO different. In hte second place, one little girl walked up to me the first day I was there and wanted to hold my hand. In Bastión, I wouldn't have batted an eye, but it wazs the first time a kid was so forward, I did some investigation and discovered she was the daughter of the schoolteacher, they were Kitchwa Indian, not Huaorani, and had lived mostly in the city. Then it made sense. Most of the schoolteachers aren't Huaorani...most Huaorani don't even graduate high school, and if they do, they sure aren't going to come back to the jungle. There is a law that the local education board has that the schoolteachers (mostly Kitchwa) can't remain at their post as village school teacher for more than 2 years. I don't think I like that law very much, it doesn't make sense to me in a culture that is naturally wary of newcomers, but what do I know about it. The oil company seems to have effected life so deeply. Young men can go away (leave their families), work for the oil company and get $300 for two weeks work: an exhorbitant amount in Bastión, even more so in the jungle communities where truly, they don't even need money! When they get this much money, they don't know the real worht of it, and go into the city to buy stuff and get r ipped off by the local business men, anyways! They return to their tribe with either expensive things that are useless(refrigerators in communities where the generator only provides electricity for 4 hours a day) or useless things that were expensive ("$100 for a sack of potatoes? Sure, I've got the money")...and all the while, parents are being irresponsible with their families. Also, within the first day I ran into a social ill i didn't expect to find in the Amazon jungle: alcohol. Two drunk youth who wouldn't let us past a road block through their village. One of the misisonaries I was with said that oiul executives fly in, the whole tribe gathers around their plane and they say "We have brought a gift for you!" and instead of giving them a lawnmover or a generator or something the whole community can benefit from, they toss the crowd a keg of beer. \r\n \r\nMost of the kids I met were sponsored through Compassion International. I don\'t know how much of an influence that is having. The Compassion workers seem to tour the communities three or four times a year, spend 5 days max in each community, to get tyhe letters written and rthe christmas gifts handed out and make sure the kids are still in school. I guess at least they are good for that, kids who stop going to school get dropped from the Compassion benefits after a year. And again, I was only there for a week. It would be unfair to judge. \r\n\r\n \r\nThats just a little bit about it. If you ask more specific quesiotns, I\'m sure I could think of more to say. I did end up enjoying the kids after the initial, trust earning period. I jumped off a bridge, climbed a tree, had a mudfight, engaged in numerous waterfights, river frolicks, etc. I liked the kids, I really did. I liked them more than American school kids, but less than Bastión kids. I wouldn\'t have minded staying longer if \r\n\r\na) the other people I was with were gone\r\nb) i had a better bug repellant\r\nc ) i could eventually learn more of the language\r\n \r\n",1] ); //--> Most of the kids I met were sponsored through Compassion International. I don't know how much of an influence that is having. The Compassion workers seem to tour the communities three or four times a year, spend 5 days max in each community, to get tyhe letters written and rthe christmas gifts handed out and make sure the kids are still in school. I guess at least they are good for that, kids who stop going to school get dropped from the Compassion benefits after a year. And again, I was only there for a week. It would be unfair to judge. Thats just a little bit about it. If you ask more specific quesiotns, I'm sure I could think of more to say. I did end up enjoying the kids after the initial, trust earning period. I jumped off a bridge, climbed a tree, had a mudfight, engaged in numerous waterfights, river frolicks, etc. I liked the kids, I really did. I liked them more than American school kids, but less than Bastión kids. I wouldn't have minded staying longer if a) the other people I was with were gone b) i had a better bug repellant c ) i could eventually learn more of the language \r\n \r\nquestions?\r\nlove, bethany-- -so, friends, as you depart your computer screens to declare war against the days and weeks of your existence; as you prepare yourselves for battles of love; as you disperse your \'upward-beating hearts\' among the successes and depressions of our reality, remember one thing:\r\nall is fair. \r\n\r\n",0] ); D(["mi",10,2,"107c467319275503",0,"0","les horne","les","les.horne2@sympatico.ca","me","24 Nov",["Bethany Horne "] ,[] ,[] ,[] ,"24-Nov-2005 17:31","RE: the jungle","Thanks, Beth. Yes I have lots of questions that I will ask you next week when...",[] ,1,,,"24 November 2005_17:31","On 24/11/05, les horne wrote:","On 24/11/05, les horne wrote:","sympatico.ca",,["","",1] ,""] ); //--> and I wouldn't mind going back.

that is a big spider, in case you cant tell. im quite happy today. its such a process to upload jungle pictures. i just discovered that i can bring my laptop to the cyber cafe and hook it up to the internet, though, so that IS GOING to happen alot now...and then i can use hello! and picasa and those things to upload pictures. again, i am happy today. sometimes, when you leave too much of your happiness in the power of other people, you get screwed, but sometimes, you get happy. i am still learning not to give the power over my happiness away to mere humans, but this week, it turned out ok. god is teaching me today to ask for blessings...selfishly, desperately... the moon shot doesn't do justice to the original. heidi, are you really truly coming? am i allowed to get giddy and happy about it yet?

i saw beautiful things. a differently coloured butterfly every time i opened up my eyes. mountain cloud sculptures in the sky. rain.

kids climbing to the top of the tallest trees i've ever seen.

some sad things too. how deeply the oil company has corrupted the souls of the tribes that mix with it. how hate and revenge has also made its way into the life of some people. Alcohol! I never thought I'd run into the same social problems that alcohol causes in Bastión, in England, and everywhere else, way over in the Amazon jungle!!

oop?

just a quick update to say i got out alive, and boy do i have stories, and pictures. i promise a full, hopefully interesting but at least colourful, update, soon. i'm in quito right now, will be home in guayaquil hopefully on monday. thisis not to say youcan stop praying for me...im still travelling...just, for those who were praying, you can say some thank you's too.

well, i'm off to the jungle. there isnt any electricity, let alone internet, so i'll see you guys on the other end of 10 days. if i get out alive. i'm seriosuly doubting it, after all the stories i've heard.

"The Huaorani in the Ecuadorian headwaters of the Amazon comprise about 1,500 people who are living in up to 24 temporary settlements in an area of almost 20,000 sq. km, completely covered by rain forest. They speak a language unrelated to any other. Additionally, their pottery designs do not resemble those of their past or present neighbors. As hunters and gatherers they are semi-nomads. They normally live in their small settlements - surrounded by vegetable gardens in which they grow manioc, maize, peanuts, sweet potatoes, chilli, and fruit. After ten years normally they move on Up until the four decades ago the Huaorani still used stone axes and maintained a thoroughly traditional hunter and gather lifestyle in their extremely isolated and monkey-rich rainforest haven. "

changing birdlings

I'm having a brief holiday from holidaying (4 days of school)... I had a week off last week and on Friday I am going to the jungle. I guess it wont really be a holiday there, but I will be there for a week. I'm going to the Huaorani tribe...

if i could marry a webpage...

...Google Print it would be.

the links on the sidebar were getting a bit out of hand

in the spirit of one year anniversarys... today is the anniversary of my worst capernwray day ever...it stretched into tomorrow, though, if i recall correctly, because the news of the american re-election wasn 't heard for definite in britain until 3 am or something like that. but oh did i cry. sorry to all you americans who really like him...we were just raised different. on this one issue, we will have to come to accept our irreconcilliable differences. (this is something i learnt in england, about a year ago) everybody, go read leslie's blog.

life on my windowsill

mama bird i scared the mother away by opening up the screen... AREN'T THEY SO UGLY!!! Ew. Mama came back later and was very mad at me. If only she knew what I thought of her little darlings...

i love it when the phantoms of rain linger in the environment, the damp, the humidity, all just suggestions. the freshness, the newness of it all. it smells of life. more of a buried feeling than a sensation, i guess. reminds me of more images than really have even entered through my eyes…upturned earth, moss (when is the last time i saw moss in guayaquil?), birds and rainbows... the rainy season wakes up every morning to this…the days swelter and burn, fester and sweat away, but the mornings are always new…un-disturbed puddles, beadlets on cars windshields, blank white skies. it’s all waiting for me to breathe it in. i ain’t scared of phantoms of rain. a bird couple built a nest in my windowsill a couple weeks ago. I never caught sight of the eggs, but today was the hatching. ugly little things, aren’t they? the new life that greets me every time i move the curtain aside makes my heart light.

i ate your cookie today, megan. sorry, i couldn't think of how to mail it. and josh and daveo, if you visit me, i will PERSONALLY take you to a clasico del astillero, i promise. i probably wont wear blue, though. i've decided that was probably pushing it. ---------------------------- mercy and i were alone today to lead kids club, all our other helpers left on seperate little trips...so, when confronted with an hour in front of a group of forty 3-10 year olds, we acquiesed ...to veggie tales. i noticed a little girl...she was way too young for kids club, she was so tiny... she was wearing her older sisters hand-me down dress and it didn't fit her right, and the zipper at the back had been left open. there were two uge bruises...one of them reached from her shoulder to the middle of her back, the other one was almost parralel, a littel lower down...glue and green and even scabed over in places, where the skin broke. this tiny creature. i asked her cousins, the only explanation "her mom hit her"..."she dropped something"...i couldn't even get the girl to talk, i don't know if se CAN, and yet she committed a crime worthy of such a beating. and i want to do so much more than hold my open hands up to heaven and ask questions.

cookies to anyone who reads all that.

dodging flying rocks and broken bottles, I stop to think, "wouldn't this make an interesting blog?"

i wasn’t scared until the end, when i was in a pascualeña bus full of yellow t-shirts, chanting soccer fans, and a pounding bass drum, and karen decides to tell the guy standing in the aisle next to me that i support the blue team. let me go back to the beginning i went to a soccer game today. not any old soccer game, a clásico del astillero, Barcelona (yellow)vs. Emelec (blue), the sworn rivals, the two local teams who hate each other to bits and whose rabid supporters get into huge brawls with each other at every game they play. i went with Karen (Barcelonista) her brother Ronald (Barcelonista), Rachel from Canada (timid Emelecista). I myself am also Emelecista, ¡DALE CAMPEÓN!, thank you very much. It was Rachel’s idea. She wanted “the experience”. I know what these games are like so I wasn’t gong to let her go alone, and I wanted someone street-smart like Karen and well connected like Ronald to come along, too. So, we hopped into a pick up truck on the highway, full of Barcelonista’s, and we’re off. Personally, I’m used to being in the minority. As a general rule, Barcelona is the more popular team, and definitely has the louder set of fans, so my reputation as an Emelecista has made me the butt of a lot of friendly or not so friendly banter over the years. But I had my blue t-shirt on; I wore it proud… and a white one on underneath…neutral. In case things got hairy. The game itself was quite the “experience”. On the way in, we saw a woman duct taping bottle after bottle of gin and firewater to her leg, under her pant-leg. Rachel was taking a lot of pictures…we sat in a middle section, no “barras” (fan clubs…though the image that conjures isn’t exactly the right one…when I think of fan clubs, I think Backstreet Boys concerts…you should think British hooligans, with beer and pot and fireworks…)…the Barcelona barra (Sur Oscura) was concentrated in the North section of the cheapie seats, to our right. The Emelec barra filled the section directly opposite us…an ocean of blue. When they came into the stadium, all together, running and yelling and pounding their drums, the police had to herd them away from the fence that separates their section from the Sur Oscura’s. They didn’t want trouble before the game even began. When the teams came in, the barra’s exploded, as they did for each goal, of which there were only two (it was a tie game…1-1…probably for the best…Emelec wasn’t getting many chances)…the foul language of the soccer songs wafted through the airwaves and made me chuckle pretty constantly. Karen knew all the words but mumbled the bad ones. Ronald was over in the thick of the Sur Oscura, pounding a drum and doing know knows what else. He lives for this. Our section wasn’t the organized riot that the Sur Oscura was, but it was definitely a sea of yellow t-shirts. I was sitting behind the only other two Emelec fans I could spot, and that was a little bit reassuring. I don’t know how we got away without being drenched by a cup of beer or piss, though. Lucky. When the game’s over and it’s time to leave, I can feel the pressure rising. That probably would have been a good time to take off my blue shirt and fade into the crowd. Karen is safe with her yellow one, and Rachel is wearing pink. But blue…is vilified. One the way out, we had to duck some substance being tossed between two warring factions behind us, and rush towads the door. Someone pushed. Someone pinched our behinds. Someone suggested ripping the t-shirt off by force. Outside the stadium, someone tried to steal my purse. I held on tight and they ran away empty handed. Ronald meets us ouside and tells me to quick, take it off, take it off, and everybody, put their valuables inside rachel’s bag, and he’ll hold it. we all grab on to each other and move with the crowd towards the road. Ronald leads us into the thick of the exiting Sur Oscura cheering mob..so it was a tie game, doesn’t mean they can’t have a good time, right?...Ronald knows everyone, everyone knows him…he leads us on…we’re walking on the highway with this mob of fans. The police crowd us along. Someone starts to run “The Boca del Pozo are coming!” The Emelec fans. They have a reputation for violence and vandalism beyond the Sur Oscuras, and that’s saying something. I felt so out of place with the Sur Oscura, even though my blue t-shirt was stuffed in the dark recesses of Rachel’s bag, I still felt conspicuous, and would have much rather been with the Boca del Pozo, who cares if they are violent? They wouldn’t do anything to ME, if I were on the right side of this brewing war. In a split second after the first person starts running, its mass panic. Everybody is running. The police are chasing us away, hurrying us, and at the same time trying to keep the Boca del Pozo people restrained for a little longer. If the two factions mix, it will be worse than panic, there will be blood. Were running, Karen is screaming, Ronald is saying “Just walk, just walk”…immediately in front of us, I see this guy smash a television-sized boulder onto the pavement, and dozens gather to pick up the pieces. Guys are stopping everywhere to pick up stones off the ground. I know what THOSE are for. The police don’t have riot shields for nothing. Two beer bottles smash to our left. We keep running. You have to hurry but be completely aware of everyone and everything going on around you at the same time...cars on the highway, rocks overhead, glass on the floor, the person next to you, and make sure Ronald still has Rachel’s bag! Suddenly, salvation! Karen has managed to convince one of the motorists to let us in to their van. We pile in quick. close the door on the crowd of people who also wants in, get safe from the growing threat of the police and the Boca del Pozo. We’re all panting. And laughing now. We have to duck in case of flying rocks breaking the windows, but we feel safe. Karen and Rachel hug. Ronald and I share a hearty hand shake. We watch the chaos out the window. Rachel tries to take a photo of a group of policemen. Phew, relief. The van drops us off and we travel a bit further with a gang of Bacelonista’s…climb into a bus that will take us across the city to our homes…climb into this bus, I must add, along with 40 Sur Oscura members, complete with drum and banners and whispered warnings to the bus driver, to turn the lights out and close the door else the Boca del Pozo spots us. That’s when the incident described at the beginning happens…and I want to kill Karen. More colourful soccer songs…I bite my Emelecista tongue the whole ride home, I’m petrified, but almost there. I swear, if the Sur Oscura had asked me then and there on that bus if I was Emelecista, I would have understood exactly how Peter felt the first, second and third time before the rooster sang.

podría vivir el resto de mi vida en español i could live the rest of my life in spanish ------------------------------------------ me siento...fatal. me enteré de algo que se suponía no me iba a enterar. pero, bueno. me gusta enterarme de cosas y saber la verdad la verdad es que rompí un corazón o estoy a punto de hacerlo y sin querer ------------------------------------------

yes, it would be fotogénico. and skype would be interesting except i connect to the internet from a public internet cafe...with no microphones...so, maybe interesting isn't the word...more so, improbable.

1000 odd words

every friday and monday some of the students come over to play soccer. their footy boots aren't fancy, but they're functional. and sometimes...fffffotogenic.

english class today...grrr. sometimes, i feel like such a failutre as a teacher. this kid...he looks sweet, huh? HE'S NOT! He's a robot, carefully disguised as a kid, he's been planted in my kindergarten class by some evil scientist...he is a torture machine...years have been spent to program him so he knows exactly what to do to transform me instantly from being normal to being VERY ANGRY.

Beware if you ever find him staring back at you in a class YOU teach. You might be tempted to be kind. I would say, no. Tie him down as soon as possible, and sit him on his own, so that if you fly into a rage at him, you flailing arms wont injure any innocent bystanders.

People think kindergarteners are pretty tame. Looks at those evil eyes and tell me that kid is tame.

the wall

the walls of my house are white. sometimes, i want to fill them the infuriating part is, i could fill them. i'm allowed to. so far, i've only filled a square foot of it. my friend carlos filled a space twenty times that big. my friend armando said he was going to do some graffitti too, sometime. but if i had paint, and time, what would i fill it with? rain and black and white patterns and faces...words, words, words...which words? any words. all the words you could fancy. landscapes and colours...lots of colours...i want proof that people in the world can still love (i found a love note on the street the other day. a stranger loves a stranger. how breathtaking! do you ever look into other cars on the highway and wonder where those people are headed, and what they are talking about, and what their relationship is to each other?) anyone who wants to can come fill a wall in my house. there are lots of them. at least 11.

scrap metal from ecuador

went to eat at one of my students houses today (Jorge)...fish. fish soup and fish on rice with some beans..menestra. menestra is my favourite. after the meal, his mom showed me pictures, of her eldest son who was killed at the age of 20, of Jorge when he was younger (he is hydrocephalic)...of their relatives in the country... during the meal, the dad interrogated me on canada ("how many people live there" "do they have fish in canada?" does it rain in canada?" "do they have rivers in canada?") and, randomly, china ("is it true they are building a hydroelectric plant there for the whole world?" "they don't grow crops in china, right? they just have soil on their roofs to grow cucumbers")...all very amusing. the kind of conversation where you wish you had your best friend there so you could catch their eye and make them giggle. so, i guess he was talking about that three river dam, but, i definitely don't think it will power the whole world, and i also don't think they are building it out of scrap metal from ecuador. i could be wrong.

hot stuff

i miss you guys i miss janice and leslie because they were always nice to me and said nice things, and leslie made my bed a few times and was just a generally agreeable bedmate. and now she's travelling who knows where and i wish i could tag along with her. i greatly admire that girl. janice watched alias in my room all the time and we laughed at each others exclamations. and i like janice. i'm glad she came back. i miss luke because he sent me this photo and we talked on the phone. i miss heidi and satch and jack and pam because they all want to come visit me next summer and i am about to have a baby, thinking about it. its alot of people. but i WANT them all to come. its just my parents i have to convince. but because im thinking about them alot i end up talking about them alot, to my parents, and janna, and daniel, so i miss them more. gosh its hot right now.

oh, and i have a new phone number for anyone who wants it. it actually works. like, you can get through. but nobody will call me. if you want it, comment or email. email is better because that way the general public wont know how unpopular i am...if i don't get any comments. you know.

I guess I should update. Everybody else seems to be doing it. *sigh* Someone hinted the other day that they liked me more before I went away to Bible School. That felt like a punch in the stomach. I guess we all like to think we improve over time...or at least I arrogantly assumed Bible School improved me...or at least that I was a slightly better person, with more stuf together, when it was all over. I've had to chew on that for a week now. I still feel hurt by the idea, but I have to think about it, don't I? My friends here don't want to be my friends anymore. So they should know something I don't. Oh well. I'm not going to let that colour my life. Whatever changed my while at Bible school...whether it was God or me or the english weather, its over and the current process is more important. "do the right thing" THAT, my friends, is a really good movie. fight the power.

Mango tree

It’s been a few years since I’ve been in Ecuador in September…2002 or 2001 (I know I was here 2001…we all remember that, don’t we?) I believe. The wet season is creeping in…the first signs are the mango buds. This past Saturday, I stuffed myself with green mangoes (sprinkled with salt) for the first time in forever…my favourite treat…fresh off the tree. I believe mangoes are good to eat at all stages of their development, from marble to monster, but the secret of the tropics is that they are better when they are green. so what if you can’t make juice out of them… When I was 9 we had a mango tree…I climbed it so much I can still remember the shape of the branches, better than I can remember what my room was like in that house. We moved when I was 10, and didn’t have a front yard, but the park was full of mango trees. And my new high school (which starts in grade 7 in Ecuador) was also spacious and populated by the trees. The staff were sticklers as far as climbing to get the fruit, but I remember staying after school hours many times, throwing rocks up into the loaded branches to taste the dislodged spoils. My backpack full of those green beauties…green mangos…mmmmmmm. The best. I could eat them until my tingling teeth fall out. (eventually, the salt and sour acid make you teeth feel as if they have been stuck in a freezer for three hours and are biting into dry ice) As I was throwing fist sized rocks up at mangos this weekend, I revisited my childhood. The rainy season is upon us. The mangoes come first. Then, las ciruelas…in december, come the thunderstorms (glorious) and the swarms of crickets (very uncomfortable)…the mosquitoes…the heat is already increasing, slowly so that before we know it we can’t breathe from the humidity…ahh. It’s my favourite season (it’s easier to pick when there are only two to choose from). More stuff going on to keep things interesting, and I always associate it with the school holidays. And FLOODING! Flooding is fun.

dont even read this

"why all the tragedy" i really want to write, to tell people whats going on right now. i sit in front of this gee-dee blank screen and nothing comes out. its not that bad...no death, no sickness, no breakdowns. just...suckiness. i miss the feeling of having friends. i miss the feeling that someone actually WANTS to see me...that I'm not a perpetual pebble in someone else's sandal. i really wish i didn't sound so selfish and whiney when i am upset. all my righteous self-pity dissipates when i read the crap that i write. apologies.

i think i have thought more swear words this past week than any other time in my life.

sometimes...you just want to curl up into a ball and eliminate all thinking. but if you curl up into a ball, thinking is all that goes no, so you get up and walk around with a broken heart and by being busy, eliminate the htinking. But everything is not normal. You yearn for...something more.

things fall apart

I'm reading a book. this is significant because it's exactly the same book that i was reading last year during these dates. I only realized that AFTER i started reading it and remembered when and where i got it: a charity shop in london. girlfriend in a coma, by douglas coupland. next: all families are psychotic, by douglas coupland, which i read on the london coach up to school.

I listened to an old CD today...

What am I gonna be when I grow up? How am I gonna make my mark in history? And what are they gonna write about me when I'm gone? These are the questions That shape the way I think about what matters Well I have no guarantee of my next heartbeat My world's too big to make a name for myself And what if no one wants to read about me when I'm gone? It seems to me that Right now's the only moment that matters You know the number of my days So come paint your pictures on the canvas in my head And come write Your wisdom on my heart Teach me the power of a moment In Your kingdom where the least is greatest The weak are given strength and fools confound the wise And forever brushes up against a moment's time Leaving impressions And drawing me into what really matters I get so distracted by my bigger schemes Show me the importance of the simple things Like a word, a seed, a thorn, a nail And a cup of cold water -Chris Rice

its not wrong to miss capernwray…to wax poetic over hours of nothing spent under the stairs…to wish you had some shitty sheep field to play football in still…to wrack your brain trying to remember how many stairs the tower had…i could swear i knew at some point…one thing i really miss is someone else washing my sheets for me…that white delight of starchy cleanness always made up for the hassle of having to clean all the crap of my bed as quiet as possible because it was 11:00 pm and i had forgotten to put the new sheets on before my roommates went to sleep…again. remember trying to find a good private place to watch a movie? as term wore on and more places were needed…stable stadium seating (i was actually present when curtis had that brainwave)…dining rooms and bathrooms were employed…the laundry room was novel but noisy. the phone booths were safe after a certain time… persecution against Microsoft users…how much time did you spend waiting for the internet to start working again? did you ever throw one or two p coins at anyone out your window? did you ever get hit by one from my window? sorry. well, not really. how many secret crushes? did you ever have one on a lecturer? not even a little one? yeah right. derek burnside. ah. one year anniversary of term start is coming up...the 25th, for most of us (heidi, you late)...i went to england a week and a bit early, so that's the reason for this early anniversary entry. this year is going to be marked by such recollections… “oh…halloween again…i remember dressing up and going to dave and sadies and sue’s for treats”…one year anniversary. travel weekend. the first prayer day. (american) thanksgiving. one year anniversaries. do you remember what you did at capernwray on those days? first term flew by then, do you think its parallel will this year? life condensed. the beginning of term, when we were all born as people again because no one had known us before (mostly no one)…childhood and adolescence as we found our feet, changed, made connections…became confident in this new us…confident in our surroundings. we knew everything, it seemed. and at some point, God found us again, maybe again and again, and moved in with us…or moved away. he’s faithful. as dependable as italian bake on alternating thursdays. eventually, we were comfortable enough to be able to live there for the rest of our lives…perpetually stacking plates after a meal...we knew the routine…we knew when to go steal fruit and when to use the staff laundry room and what else canadian nickels we good for…we knew who gave the biggest scoops of ice cream in the beehive, and we knew the names of all the kitchen girls, and even where they were from. we had it all down pat. and that’s when we had to leave, and take it all with us. we still know all this stuff. It just doesn’t matter to anyone outside of the blogrings or the email, the occasional meet-ups, the reminisces. it is the past. it is a year ago. its never going to be again. its precious to us, but only to us. only to me.

parents pressure

what university to go to...when...for what... i guess if i had money to pay for it the decision would be easier. as it is, i make 10$ a month, max, but usually, I break even. argh. i'll just not go.

Happy happy happy happy happy happy happy happy BIRTHDAY

Pam i drew this for you. ok, so i'm no josh schreck on photoshop. but, everybody has their strengths, ok?

Adult Retreat

the campfire...the quintessential ingredient to any retreat i hung out mostly with these guys...alex scratched his tummy most of the time, too.

i went to adult camp over the weekend...i'm not an adult, but they needed dishwashers and vegetable choppers so...any excuse to go to camp! so many memories. the downside was this child...and other babies...who significantly affected ones ability to sleep. apparently the guys cabin had issues with 50 year old men snoring "like birthing pigs"...but babies are pretty bad, too. i slept in a tent with janna and karen the last two nights. mucho better. karen, mercy and i..."las ñañas" (the sisters) (ñañas is quechua, not spanish, so those of you who have a minimal grasp on spanish, don't be confused. quechua is the language of the indigenous people of ecuador) ivan and i watching a volleyball game. very sunny. ok, so again a double picture i can't figure out how to delete. oh well. anyone going to complain? maybe you can take advantage of the repetition to notice details, like the capernwray sweater...

My dad is building a camp. We bought the land and now need to build on it...its at the beach, beautiful beach. Brent wants to organize a team from his Bible School in BC to come down and do some building, maybe spring break. Can I express how happy that would make me? No, no I can't.

ecuadorians like to laugh. they are easy laughers. i listen to an average conversation and most of it is carried out amidst giggles or laughing…happiness is an element of communication, it is something you communicate constantly, by laughing, if you don’t (and you don’t have to), then you will be asked how you are doing, and why. and it’s ok to tell the truth. today, i would laugh if i could. but nobody feels much like laughing. angela left, she went home to canada, so i’m short one housemate, but mostly, missing one more friend. the goodbye’s go on, don’t they? we’re never done with them.

armando… last night, when you were with janna and i was on the hammock, i could hear pretty much ever word of your conversation, and i didn’t want to. i didn’t want to go upstairs to my room because i would fall asleep. so, i went in to angela’s bed and turned the fan on and lay my head in front of it, to drown out the sound, then wrapped a sweatshirt around my head for good measure, and to block out the light…i wanted to think. think and pray. i felt kind-off crappy. crappy about the whole thing. you came to talk to janna and we pointedly ignored each other. its been like that for a month now. i evaluated my attitude towards you up until now, i’ve told janna about it: i’ve been standing my ground because i didn’t think that what you are doing, what you do to me all the time, is very fair, and i don’t think it is getting any better, and i wanted to punish you for that and i wanted to teach you a lesson…i want you to change. i was withholding love from you because you were withholding it from me and i didn’t want to encourage bad habits like that. but last night, underneath the sweater and before i fell asleep, i did pray. i tried to keep a little quiet because i really wanted to hear god on this one. and god said love. and i said i do love, but this time, this time, you need to learn your lesson, you need to learn that this is not ok, that you can’t get away with treating me like dirt for no reason. i told god that i was being loving because i was teaching you a lesson. i thought i made a pretty good point, actually. because, you know, love is many things and sometimes, when you love someone, you need to teach them what is right and what is wrong…right??? then god said, humility. and then i knew. i knew that i was babbling nonsense. i wasn’t trying to teach you a lesson because i was being loving. i was hurt and i didn’t want to get hurt anymore, and it hurts when i try and talk to you and you ignore me, it hurts more to feel that rejection than it does if i DON’T try to talk to you. and also, i know you love me, armando, even though you do your best sometimes to prove the opposite, and as much as i whine to people about you and how you treat me, i know you love me. i know, eventually, you will talk to me again. i know becaue every time you have done this to me, stopped talking to me, you eventually start again. and it feels good, when YOU seek me out, when YOU apologise because you know you’ve hurt me. it feels really good. so i had my eyes twisted shut to all this. i was being proud. i was going to wait for you to come to me, yes, to teach you a lesson, to make you suffer, to humble you…but not out of love. because i was to proud to seek out pain for myself. god told me that it isn’t my job to teach people lessons, as badly as they need to learn them. god told me that is HIS job…he has made my job very clear to me: love and die to myself, stop acting out of pride, start being humble. Its going to hurt. armando, you are going to hurt me alot. i don’t think god was telling me to keep walking into that hurt willingly, keep playing those silly games YOU play to feel loved…because you play the games, too…i don’t think that would help anyone. but god called me on my pride…i was being proud. i wasn’t being loving. i don’t know HOW i am supposed to be loving and humble, without encouraging your self-destructive and harmful behaviours…without playing your mind games…without falling into your traps…i don’t know how to do that yet…but i know i have made a mess of it up to this point and i don’t want to. i'm sorry...?

Right now, I'm happy. I haven't slept in 36 hours, but I'm happy. frinds come over at midnight and hang out with you until 8 am. we did this last year sometimes and they were my favourite thing we ever did together. the occassion this time (because there is usually an ocassion) is that Angela, my roomate, is going back to canada on friday. its sad, but not difficult. last night wasnt the BEST "pijamada" we've ever had, but i like the results of it...improved relationships with some people. i like my friends. i feel lucky to have them.

Note to J

J: i think your email got sent to my junkmail and deleted...sorry... :P i use groundhog593@gmail.com mostly

http://of-j.blogspot.com/ Ha! Victory. And I didn't even use what Janice called "strong suggestions" But, one question, how come no one told me about the new birth? I had to find it on Kaylie's links...which are double spaced.

i'm feeling very inadequate these days...in case you couldn't tell from my previous publishing...i feel priorities slipping that shouldn't be, work that should get done being put asie...i don't know what is wrong with me. i don't know where time goes sometimes. sometimes, i wish i could vacuum clean my brain...complete all the mini-tasks that i have sitting up there on post-it notes waiting to be dealt with and removed from my mind. its mom's birthday tomorrow. i hate birthdays. you can never do enough to show a person how much you appreciate them, but you are expected to try, and also schedule it into a specific date...so forced.

i wish... i were better at... keeping in touch keeping on top of work keeping things clean writing being a friend being a God seeker knowing people not wanting stuff

Top Ten

Top Ten things that have caused me the most sleep deprivation in my lifetime 10. Stress-inducing deadlines 9. Humidity 8. Manic roosters with no internal clock 7. Good Books 6. Mosquitos 5. No leg room 4. Loud Salsa Music 3. Midnight inspirations 2. Heat 1. Seatbelts

public request

Jonathan Wilcoxson if you ever read this, know that i think you are one kid who really needs a blog. from, me

the beach itself was chilly...it isn't beach season... i ran into three friends from high school...i haven't seen them for three years...they were suprised i hadn't been to an all night party on saturday night, am living in a slum, and have had no boyfriend since we parted ways, they concluded i have no life. i was surprised to see that they haven't changed at all since we were 16, with drinking and parties and hot boys every weekend, and can only come to the same conclusion about them that they came to about me.  

One of my favourite places in the country...a surfers village populated by harmless potheads, vegetarian restaurants and bamboo palaces. And of course, the surfers.  

Monta�ita. 

see below caption  

Pictures from the weekend. Ben told me its pretty obvious I don't like pictures of myself because I have hardly any on my blog, and that may be so, but I don't want it to be obvious, so here is one with my two siblings. My two younger siblings, mind you...please disregard all heights as they are misleading.  

the internet is bad for me because i read blogs and it makes me miss people and then i can't think about the present anymore and post the things i went on to the internet to post. its a very defeatist excercise but i guess i'm just a slow learner. so....let me think....i did have something to say that was important and all...crappety. as my dad would say, i guess it wasn't THAT important. i'm at the pacific ocean today and will be in the andes mountains on saturday and maybe colombia on sunday. its not as exciting as it sounds, i'm with my parents. i wish i were a more interesting person and then all you capernwray people would come visit me and live in my backyard.

i'm at the BEACH i'm posting photos TOMORROW i feel like such a dweeb today.

"my dad went to canada and brought me some penguin bars back. i sucked some tea up through one of them and bit into it and it tasted like home. " Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up?

I got up at 6 am today..I usually do, the sun rises at 6 and I like being up with the sun. I also like the quietness of the neighbourhood at that time...and usually I start working at 7:50 anyways, so its nice to have alot of time to get ready and get there early. So I was up at 6. I really had to go to the bathroom so I did. Then...I don't know what happened, but next thing I was climbing out of bed at 9 o'clock...feeling really stupid for falling back asleep...I had NO lesson plan for my class at 10:35 (being a kindergarten English teacher sounds easy...but its not! Every half an hour class demands a couple hours of preparation...and who knows how many hours thinking, trying to come up with a good idea...a NEW way to teach "six!"...different from the creative NEW way you came up with to teach "five!"...the pressure of being interesting) And then Armando came by for a weird visit, which lasted half an hour, and accomplished nothing, except settign me even farther behind. So I got to school, and there was no water, which just threw me idea of using paint today with the klids RIGHT out the window...so, after losing my lesson plan which i had no time to prepare for anyways, having to come up with a new lesson plan on the spot AND prepare it...i just resigned to having a crappy lesson with the kids. And it was. But it was only 30 minutes of hell. I survived.

Sorry to everyone who is mad I didn't tell them I have a blog...I'm generally shy about shameless self-promotion...and really, it wouldn't take you guys to long to read from the beginning up until now, because it's only just been started...and it's mostly short. So, I AM sorry, but not too sorry, because you honestly haven't missed much, and I feel happy you found it on yourselves and are livid you didn't know about it before, because it does much more for my self esteem than if i had told everyone about it and only 4 or 5 actually cared. Edit: I'm such a hypocrite, I just emailed Heidi to come see my blog. But only because all of a sudden people think they mised out on something by not reading posts when they were actually published. Gosh, this is so nervewracking, I now have an audience. Before, I was just typing into the emptyness of cyberspace. Hi everybody.

Trip

I SAW Chelsea. Didn't get any pictures of her. Sorry :S I also visited my best friends who are going to Bible School in Quito, that was so good. It was a good weekend. I travelled with Angela, Janna and Armando (another friend). Its the first time I've been with them all together, with Armando, Angela, Janna, Raúl, Iván, Carlos and Daniel, since last April. We were only missing Alex and the whole group would have been complete. I'm happy. I miss them, though.

It was Iván's (in the red) birthday yesterday, so we all woke up at 5 am, and had a cake for him. mostly the fun part about having a cake at 5 am is smushing the birthday boy's face into it, one of my favourite bizarre ecuadorian traditions. and we sure got him good...too bad he had already cleaned up for this photo.

Raúl, Janna and Daniel at Parque Carolina. Janna, i.e. roomate número dos.

this is Angela with one of the puppies at the institute...it was a gorgeous day, for pictures, but taking pictures of people who hate having pictures taken of them tend to ruin moments, so i enjoyed most of the gorgeous day just hanging out.  

i'm going to see chelsea douce tomorrow...yay! finally, eh? she does only live 8 hours away. i'll take pictures, but only for this blog. i hate pictures. my friends karen is so mad i posted a photo of her on the internet. well, not mad. but she was definitely mad when i made that same photo the desktop background on all 9 computers of the cyber cafe in our neighbourhood. that was maybe what made her mad. oh well. see y'all on the other side of monday

a blog entry from an email

i liked this paragraph in an email i wrote. i figured i'd post it on my blog so online people think i'm cool, too: an early morning bus ride to the doctors office. It is a pretty rough doctors office, which is understandable, since its in a pretty rough neighbourhood. I went there to pick up some blood test results...an HIV test. Long story short, I need a certificate that says I am free of any communicable diseases, I need it to get a visa to allow me to stay in the country. So, continuing with my story, there are two nurses/receptionist at the front desk when I arrive. Nurse number one, slighty pudgy, I met her when she syringed blood from my arm yesterday. Nurse number two, with a really bad eyeliner job…I don't really know what she was going for…it was creepy though, she was new. I hope she believes that's why I was staring at her. Nurse number on recognizes me and starts rustling in the pile of test results for mine "Let's hope you don't have HIV!" she says. Nurse number two is very affronted by this lapse of logic: "Why would she have HIV?!" Now she directs her speech at me . I am mildly scared of her "How old are you, girl? " "19." "Oh. Are you single?" "Yes" "Have you ever had a molar removed?" "No…" Nurse Number Two is satisfied with that. "See, there's no way she could have HIV". Oh, of course, I think. I never thought of that. Nurse Number One finds my envelope in the pile, pulls it out and opens it (to satisfy her curiosity, I guess)…is satisfied by whatever she discovers in there, folds it back up and gives it to me. I know you must by on the edge of your seat by now. Well, I'm negative.Yay! Boy, was I ever relieved, if I were positive, it would have been so AWKWARD, eh?

my family...without me...this was their christmas vacation shot last year when i was in england...my brother, jono, photoshopped me in to this picture and they sent it in the newsletter, but its really not the same.

some of my students from last year. i miss them 

karen and armando. i like this picture. they are two really good ecuadorian friends who i see everyday. most of my good good ecuadorian friends are away at bible school...these two people mean alot to me day to day. the guys in quito mean alot to me in life in general. this picture will only mean something to a select few.

the house i live in, when it was being finished. it looks much the same now, except the neighbourhood is much more populated. i spend very little time in this house: bastión popular is just across the highway, it's a completely different world. the half of the house that is in colour is where i live, with two other girls. i thought that was some pretty clever editing of the picture...if i do say so myself. the upper window is my room. dont throw stuff.