Kat's Blog

I haven’t felt the need to write in so long, I’m surprised I even started now. I’m trying to consider that a good thing, mostly because this blog was mostly used as a venting session (besides Africa of course). Maybe eventually as I type I’ll start venting…or maybe not. This might be due to the fact that my mind has been a blur for the past few days. This time, I’m not holding anything back…so here we go.

I’m scared to leave in the fall for college. I thought I had a plan for when I left, and now I don’t. I wasn’t supposed to graduate in January; I was supposed to stay in school and complain about how much I hate AP statistics and how hungry I am for a crappy school lunch. I’m supposed to have homework that I’m too lazy to do, and a job that takes up my free time so I can complain that I don’t see my friends because of that. Now, I’m out of school, and I’ve started at Hesser and have the easiest job in the world watching two adorable little boys for three hours a day. I still don’t see my friends because they’re in school while I have nothing to do, and by the time they are out of school, I have an hour until I leave for work until it’s too late to really do anything on a school night. This wasn’t how things were supposed to work. Maybe I really did make a mistake when I graduated early.

I have no idea what will happen when I leave in August. What if I can’t do what I thought I could? I have been counting down the years, months, days and hours until I walk off that stage with my high school diploma. I have been counting down the seconds until I pack up and leave for college, and now that I’m close enough to it to start packing today, I’m not sure I can even handle it.

betrayal: to be unfaithful in guarding, maintaining, or fulfilling.

Is betrayal only a term used in movies about kings and knights? Or only in fights between friends, family, or lovers? Is betrayal really what that definition states, or is something more? Something that eats away at you in the night, something that has the power to drive you insane?

I’ve spent my entire life on my mother’s side of everything. Any fight she had with my dad, I was instantly on her side, without a doubt…but was I really seeing the whole picture? My parents are not perfect people, and God knows their marriage is far from perfect…but is my father the only one to blame?

Is it wrong to think that the failure of your parents’ marriage is both of their faults, when you’ve spent your entire life protecting only one? Is that betrayal or is it finally seeing both sides of the story that’s been repeating for 14 years?

As most people know, my grandfather died in January of 2007. After a few months, after the intial shock and pain went away, I began a journal where I began to “write” to him. At first, I would write about my days; what I was up to, who I was with. Eventually, it turned into a place where I sought comfort and peace in a very hectic and crazy life. I found it a little while back, but couldn’t bear to open it or start writing again. Lately I’ve written a few things that I actually think are worth sharing…so here it goes.

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Dear Papa,
It’s been three years since I got to hug you; to feel your presence light up a room the way it always did. I used to think that I would find your ghost in my room late at night. I’d close my eyes and will myself to hear your voice, or feel a cool breeze followed by a shadowy figure. I’ve traveled to Africa and back, I’ve been going through my teenage years at rapid speeds it feels like, but through it all, I’m still here, and you’re still not. You’re still not here to wish me a happy birthday, you still aren’t here to go to dinner with grandma and all of us, you still aren’t here, but I’m beginning to understand that that’s okay. I’d be lying to you if I said that hearing a story about you, seeing an old picture of you, or even finding this journal doesn’t tear at my heart, but I’m not the same person I was when you left us Papa, and now I understand that what I went through since you left is what got me here. For a long time, I was angry at you for leaving, as if you had a choice, and all that time was wasted. When I couldn’t be angry at you, I got angry at everyone else. I’m not angry anymore Papa, and I want you to know that. Even after all of this time, after everything that’s happened, after all the drama, I still believe you’re my guardian angel. I still believe that you are taking care of me, wherever you may be, because you will always live on. So now all I have left of you is your pictures, your pocket watch, and my memories, but I’m starting to think that maybe it’s just enough to miss someone to remind you that they still care about you somewhere, and that they miss you too. Maybe it’s enough to know that for now, they can sit back and watch you live your life and share your experiences with you in spirit. Maybe it’s enough to love someone enough to let them go, even if it wasn’t your choice, because you know that it isn’t the end for them or for you. Maybe it’s enough to just have had the chance to spend some of your life with someone, so when they’re gone you can live and breathe their example. I love you Papa, rest in peace.

Well, tonight ends my first weekend hosting Laura, and I’ve already gained some new perspective on many things. I admit I was nervous about having her stay here, but after this weekend, I’m more confident that I can show her a good time while she’s here in America.

While politely meeting all of the family members that entered my house this weekend, Laura answered many questions about her life back in France; where she lives, how many people live in her village, what her school is like, etc. The main thing everyone focused on was how her life is different from ours, and I admit, that is one of the main things I was also curious about. What makes American teenage life different from French teenage life? What I’m beginning to realize, however, is that no matter where you are in the world, being a teenager is still being a teenager. Laura said that America is very different from France, and in many aspects that is true, but if you look at the core of what life is like, we are all the same. I also realized that this realization isn’t new to me. When I traveled to Africa, I also discovered that even there, the main aspects of life remain the same.

I’ve also noticed how grateful Laura is with her home. I do recall her saying something along the lines of, “I love where I live, but America is better, or I think so.” (Of course I’m paraphrasing) The beginning of that sentence is what surprised me the most. So many people from other countries are willing to deny all the good their own country has to offer, instead opting for the “American Dream.” Laura, however, has mentioned many times how beautiful she believes her home is, and how right she is. She was showing me and my mother pictures from back in France this morning. Her home is absolutely breath taking; something you see on postcards and posters. It makes you wonder how many Americans are walking around, blind to the beauty this country has to offer. Regardless of the politics, religion, race, gender, economical status, America is a beautiful country, we just need to start realizing that.

I figured that since I haven’t been in Africa, this blog will temporarily be about my adventures hosting my french exchange student, Laura Girard. She is sixteen years old, and as previously stated she shares my birthday. She arrived tonight at 7PM and I arrived just in time to pick her up. After a brief hug and a hello, we proceeded to my car, loaded her one suitcase (yeah I’m kind of surprised she only had one), and then went back to my house. She seemed extremely tired from her travels, considering she had to wake up at 4AM to start her trip over here, and when she arrived it was around midnight in France. She met my parents and I showed her around the house. She brought candy for my parents and bought me a perfume from France, which was extremely thoughtful of her. I let her unpack a little and then I brought her to Hannaford to get some food for her while she’s here for the 13 days. I think I might’ve scared her with all of this new stuff.

One thing I expected but didn’t expect was the language barrier. When we were talking on Facebook, her English was nearly perfect, although it’s very different to be in a country that only speaks a language you’ve only known for seven years. It took us a little time to figure out she wanted a blow dryer when she took her shower tonight. I should’ve said hair dryer, that might’ve been easier and saved us a few minutes of awkwardly trying to understand each other.

Speaking of which, another challenge is talking slowly. Being sixteen, I talk much faster than she can comprehend, and I also use slang that she has never learned before. I never put too much consideration into just how much a language barrier can make simple things extremely challenging. It’s like being a toddler and learning to talk, frustrating that no one understands you, and annoyed that you can’t get your point across.

Tomorrow is her first full day in America and she will be coming to school with me. Instead of making her wake up to go to school at 7:20AM, however, I’m letting her sleep in a little after traveling so much and am going into school later. She’ll be with me all day tomorrow and the weekend, and hopefully after some rest and some time here, she’ll feel more comfortable and try out her English a little more. This weekend will also be a shock to her system when my family celebrates Easter on Sunday. My family is nothing but welcoming, I just don’t want her to feel overwhelmed by the amount of people.

Until then, let’s just hope tomorrow goes as smoothly as possible. Welcome to the host blog.

In about ten days, I will have my host student, Laura Girard, at my house for two weeks. She lives in France, and from what I can see from our conversations, knows English very well. She’s so excited to come to America, as I’m sure everyone is who gets the opportunity, but I’m slightly nervous that my family isn’t the best family to base American life off of. I’m aware every family has it’s problems, but I feel as though my father’s problem isn’t something I want to expose anyone to, especially a sixteen year old girl who’s never been to America before.

Aside from those fears, I’m really excited to have her here. When I went to Africa, it completely changed my views on everything, and I loved seeing how other cultures live. Laura has also been to Italy and she said she loves learning about other cultures as well. From our conversations, I have no worries as to whether we’ll get along. I just can’t help feeling like I’m in control as to how she views America, and I don’t want to let her down. You only get one chance to make a first impression, and I can only hope that from what I show her and share with her from my life, her first impression of America will be a good one.

As March continues on, I try to think about the fact that my life is flashing by, without me being aware of it. I’ll be turning seventeen in May, which is only two months away. It seems like I just started my junior year, when in actuality, I have a little under three months left. What’s funny is I always pictured high school as being this huge deal when I was younger, and now, I can’t wait to leave.

I feel as though that’s how I’ve always been; I’m always anxious for the next chapter in my life, ready for the next big change. I think it might have to do with how I grew up. I grew up in an environment that was always changing, always different. My father was either sober and happy or drunk and rampaging. My mother was either planning the divorce or never been more in love in her life. My brother was either my second father or my brother, and my sister was either my best friend or my enemy. After growing up learning that you can’t ever really control what happens to you, when things stayed the same, I got restless, eager to make the change so I can get back to ground I felt comfortable on.

The above has been true my entire life, except when I was in Africa. In Africa, I did nearly the same thing everyday, and I never got restless. I never wanted it to change, and I never felt as though I was trapped, as I often feel here. People never understand why I can’t stop thinking about Africa, and I’ll never understand why they think I’d ever want to.

My uncle spending four weeks down there honestly makes me eternally jealous. I’ve been trying to ignore it, because thoughts of not going back after two years tears my emotions apart, but that is easier said than done. My uncle will arrive tomorrow morning while I’m sitting in pre-calculus, wondering if I’ll ever go back.

But like they say, life goes on.

With all the changes going on lately, my mind’s been racing at top speed. Anyone who knows me, knows I over think almost everything that pops into my head. At times, it’s entertaining, and the rest of the time, I wish I could get a head transplant. I’m not sure it’s possible to explain how my mind can turn the smallest detail into a huge deal, but it happens. As I’ve mentioned in this blog before, I’ve always felt the way I think and perceive things made me some sort of a freak show, as of lately however, I’m starting to feel unique all over again.

For the first time in a pretty long time, I find myself no longer second guessing whether I can find someone to relate to. I feel as though I’m finally putting thoughts into actions, and getting the best possible results. I’m scared to death that something is going to happen to ruin all of it, but I’m too determined to leave things the way they are. I want things to change, and I’m going to make it happen. Nothing’s stopping me anymore, not even myself.

His Promise Ministries – Namibia

When I saw this movie, I wasn’t expecting what happened. Once I saw Memory and Queen pop up, I started tearing up. My uncle gets to return to Namibia this year, and I do not. I never really thought about how it would feel if he went back without me. I didn’t know it would actually hurt to think about. By the end of the video, I was just crying. I saw all the places I was in. I saw all the people I once spent my days with. I spent three weeks in Africa, and I’m scared to death that it really was a once in a lifetime event.

In the video, these faces keep popping up and memories rush back into my head like a tidal wave. I spent time with these kids. I sat down and helped them with math. I played jump rope with them. I was taught card games by them. I played soccer with them on their break. I organized their school library. I let them braid my hair, but most importantly, I got attached to all of them. I got attached to the beautiful sunsets, the breathtaking landscapes, the silence of the town at night, the sight of all the stars at night, the people I met, and the feelings I felt. I wish I could say that I don’t remember any of those things so it wouldn’t hurt to think about, but I do. I wouldn’t take a minute of that experience back, I just want to have it again.

I’ve started to think about what seperates the line between the good and bad people in this world. It sounds cheesy to quote Anne Frank, but I mean, if a girl in the Holocaust can still see the good in people, why can’t the rest of the world?

These days I feel like people are so quick to save themselves before others, blame others, and even go as far as putting themselves on a higher pedestal than others. In the movie Saw V, the ending result is that the last two people realize that all five of them could’ve lived through all the tasks, if they had stopped worrying about getting just themself out alive. Of course that’s a more serious example, but I feel that the principle still applies. When do you get to decide that your life is more important than someone else’s?

I think the answer to that lies in the fact that so many people are afraid to die. But then of course, you get the people who believe in the afterlife, but as everyone already knows, I don’t believe in an afterlife. I think what appeals to most people is that an afterlife means that you get another chance at everything. Who wouldn’t want to go back and redo all the mistakes you think you made? The only problem is, the entire debate of the afterlife. I feel that the real question people need to ask themselves is, all of the religious people may be right after the afterlife, but what happens if they’re wrong?

Now, I’m not trying to turn people away from their faith. I can honestly say, I hope that there is something out there, especially for the people like my Grandma, and my mother. They have their entire lives based on this belief, and I hope that they’re right. I feel like my mother’s faith is the only thing that can keep her sane sometimes, and I know how hard it is for her to know that I don’t share the same faith. I know it’s hard for a lot of people in my family, but I’m not worth their time worrying about the ‘path’ I’m taking. I know the things I’ve done in my life so far, and I also know that at the end of the day, I’m alone with all of them.