Tonight

Late night writing is becoming a favorite pastime of mine.



I.
I held you in my hands tonight like
A woman to her pearls on a sinking ship

II.
I felt you in my arms tonight
Like the lukewarm of fading spots of light
The precision of blocks and dangling lines
Like the sickly moonlit limelight
Taking sharp bites like teeth on stark white walls

III.
I sensed you in my eyes tonight
Like plucking of eyelashes like
Making dumb wishes like
Uneven breaths letting them go
Fleeting eyelashes in the night

IV.
I sketched you on my face tonight
My two fingers striking a pulse
And I risked two lines with myself involved
And I dug those rings in the dark of my eyes
And I felt them burn like forest fires

V.
I mistook you in my head tonight
Unthreading the threads of my petty brain
And stitching it for your sweatery refrain
You took me hostage tonight and it was
Biting teeth on stark white walls
Tearing teeth and I felt so small

Firecracker evenings


Another insomniac rant from yours truly....


It is one of those evenings
A firecracker evening
When each strand of your hair
Is ablaze all around you
And the dynamite fizzle
Converges at your head
And you feel so nauseous
And dizzy
And limbless
And the world outside
Is splayed out like
Peacock feathers
Of vigorous pinks and teals
And each step perpetuates
Kaleidoscope echoes
All the way to the
Lucy in the sky with
The rain that glitters down like
Droplets of ink
And it gathers into a story
Of the night you learned air
And love
And touch
And you play connect the dots
On a blank white wall
And with the freckles on your skin
All the way to the
Distant hot moon where the
Limbless and dizzy
See the Earth ablaze.

Sleep

I can't sleep.
I can kind of write.


Sleep can mean a number of things
A peaceful resignation from the world
A slight dimming of the ticking time bomb
A child’s prayer for something irrational
A lover’s wish for someone better
A painful misunderstanding of reality
A lively interpretation of several long breaths
A reincarnation of friends forgotten
An artful articulation of the future in the brain
A fanciful pleasure of a kaleidoscope
A state in which you rest
A resting position in which you live
A frightened sprint away from time
A living proof of life and death
A dying breath to the living dead
A deadly wish to live life in a lively fashion
Sleep can mean a number of restless bones.

Goodnight.

Fire Fly

The real spectacle of the firefly
Can only be observed after the
Dimmed silence of its absence
In which it lives as just an insect.

In these few seconds, it has no business
In the hands of a glowing delighted child
And can stand unwatched by the couple enamored
Or the dog trying to extinguish enigmatic fires.

Most of all, these are the moments
In which the firefly can escape greedy hands
Fighting to capture moments long passed
In the flashy jars of their choosing.

But these moments pass and it ignites once more
Its light reflecting in the glassy eyed world
And instead, the firefly dreams of flying without the fire
Or in the least, ending in a fiery fashion like a bee with its last sting.


I'm pretty happy about this one, although I think elongating it will do good things. Also, just a fun fact of the day, my mom was joking around and decided to write a poem of her own...."Micky is white, strawberries are red, bananas are yellow." Oh my mother. Silly as she is, I wish that she could understand my poems a lot more in English. Then she could be a part of something I love so much. Just a thought.

Waking up at midnight

I woke up at midnight. I think slightly sleepy inspires a state of artistic zen.
The lines are rather long and the poem is pretty short, but it's the first poem I've been inspired to write since I've gotten home from Ann Arbor.



What am I to you
When you wake in the weary moonlight and you
Find me speckled with the bread crumbs on your kitchen table and
The memory of me trickles in while you pour the last drop of milk and
You sit hearing the clock chipping away at its hours and they almost
Sound like footsteps of two lovers but the
Thought is too horrible and instead you choose to hear the
Air whirring on as the air bleeds out of your lungs and you
Sit watching the sun illuminate as the mist transforms into
Smooth gossamer ghosts in the
Dead of dawn.
Dead.

5/15

I think I could make this better with some editing. But so far, here it is.

One.
The number of times I’ve talked to you.
Our palms fit together like the ring around my finger;
I suddenly felt conscious of my thirsty skin
While your hand attempted to read the lines on my hand
As if the cracks told a story of the harsh, worn me
Underneath the half-suns in my eyes of a
Smile I’ve been conditioned to hold.
I don’t even know your last name.
Two.
The number of drinks you spilled on me.
The number of times you apologized and smiled
And jokingly blamed the guy with a drunken slur
And wiped the beer away with a look of satisfaction
Like someone who’s plucked the dust from an old record player
Three.
The number of times our hands brushed.
Your numb hands felt nothing but the
Plastic cold of the red Solo cups
Only you weren’t aware that I was staring at the
Corner where two walls met
And I was wondering how it felt to hold someone’s hand
Like a bandage over a wound
The blood filling each tiny square of fabric
Caressing and sharing the pain.
Four.
The number of minutes the song lasted.
I had never felt quite as powerful as I did then,
As if the bobbing of our heads were
Orchestrating every down beat on the bass.
And every time your head came up you looked at me
And made sure I was in sync with the music, with you.
Five.
As far as you got in scribbling my number.
You took the pen from your pocket and
Etched my name onto your hand and I looked at you
Hoping each stroke of ink would stay there forever.
Six.
The number of days it took for me to forget about you.
This is the number of times that I tried to
Wish away those memories.
The number of times my hand brushed away the air in front of me
Pretending that it was just one night.
That one night when the cracking of the party cups
Under footsteps sounded too loud
And the memories of you clung to me like beer on the floor.

4/15

It's kind of silly. Enjoy.
I was slightly inspired by this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kozv2POJS0I

Your love is aromatic, fragrant, delectable you
Fill me, coat my throat with bliss
And move through me, seeping through my bones
Through my veins, conquering me with your drug.
You’re heroin straight to my bloodstream
Straight to my brain to the tips of each hair on my
Head. I quiver with the rhythm of your flow from the
Moment you’re soaked into the crevices of my lips and
You enter and you navigate through and warm each
Tastebud on my tongue and I bud like a rose
Arising from the depths of you but the downfall
Is the worst thing,
          When I realize you are like a storm
Lasting too long, when the stem of the rose breaks from winds
Too strong. You pull me down from happy thoughts and
They are no more; I’m done with you. You’re like lodged
Shards of glass overstaying their welcome in the
Deepest chambers of my brain. You leave imprints of you
In watery brown rings on every story I write
Like fossils of dinosaur bones and you
Leave me longing but you’re bad for my health, my lungs,
My heart. I know you’re nothing special
You’re just coffee to everyone else I know.

Coffee = love of my life.

3/15

Although I'm really a Fall kind of girl, I really miss the lazy warmth of summer sometimes.
I'm a day late so this is written in kind of a hurry, but I'd say writing 15 poems in one month is a feat in itself, right?
I've tried to emphasize the sudden transition that comes with the end of summer, and how everything slows down for the last few weeks before you realize you have to go back to real life. Enjoy!

the clouds cut crisp by the sun
dandelion seeds weaving in and out of air
the waves eating and spitting back out
the tail ends of chopped grass
running inhaling and rough exhaling
sugary remnants of ice cream on sticky fingers
the sun temporarily shaded by the clouds
the breeze playing peekaboo with skirts
lonely hearts pacified by a bonfire
emotional release of fireworks
the tender hug of two warm hands
swirling the air with hand outstretched in a car
the feeling of parting with the sun for a while
the feeling of heaviness in the uncertainty to come
the feeling of lying on sand trying to memorize every smell, taste, sight
the feeling of sleeping while the music drifts in and out and lulls until there is a feeling of
                                                                                                Summer.

2/15

Does it work on paper?
Topic partially inspired by Dexter.



Autopsy of a girl

1. The iris is crystallized sugar;
her eyes are finally strewn with hot stars
that were always so far
farther than the fabric of her sheets
with its large cartoon stars
and their five harsh pricks,
the collision of opposing lines.
Real stars are round.
2. Her veins are railroad tracks
worn by rapid fiery trains
traveling miles and miles
exhaling fuzzy puffs of smoke
every exhale is a sigh
shedding dreams of being a plane
like casts of reptile skin
yet there is no indication of a destination
3. The fingers are stretched outward
towards the nearest exit
but the hand hangs limp like
the necklace on her neck
and her skin wraps around the knuckles so tight
the doctor swore he knew her life.
The pad of her thumb has been badly burned
so the skin hangs on like wax from a candle;
she lacks an identity.

4. Her lungs are rubbery and tired.
One last breath and her lungs were finished
like a balloon filled with air too many times,
overstretched and limp like her fingers.

1/15

So I'm doing 15 poems in the month of April to celebrate Poetry month. I know. Exciting. And ambitious. But I'm going to try my hardest to put a poem up every 2 days, so yay!


you make me feel like the first day of Spring
when the flowers appease their
parched tongues with droplets of Release and
my eloquence Melts away with the words i used to know and
my tongue stays Caged in the place behind my teeth but
you make me feel like the sprout of a good thing
like the smell of the morning mist i like you.
the sky wilts under threats of thunder
and the retreating sun prompts
nervous thrashing wings but
you make me Fall for the way you make me feel.

4:09

The world at 4:09AM is a weird place. The air seems colder and meaner somehow. The sounds are quiet and yet so much louder than you would think. A car drives away into the distance, a leaf falls, my shoe scratches the pavement, and I can hear the sounds of the flame burning the cigar away into nothing as the stranger inhales the toxins deeply into his lungs. It's like walking through a world abandoned by a civilization that used to be. The entire world is a deep pang of realization that something went wrong. That one mistake. And the entire civilization vanished so quickly that people didn't have time to look around and take in the sounds of the magnolias blossoming. The tree stump I pass looks lonelier somehow.

And yet, the world at 4:09AM is like that glorious moment when you realize that you're the only one home. You can play your music, you can read that book, you can sit there and stare at the wall without expecting the wall to stare you back down. It's that moment when you can expect everything from nothing. It's like being the only one home, except you're the only one in the world. Someone just forgot to turn off the lights. I pass another stranger walking briskly past me. Is he just cold or is he running away from something? He's coming back from visiting his friends. He has just finished a great new work of graffiti that will soon cause the world to be in awe. Or maybe he's the one that betrayed the civilization. Is he running away from responsibility?

The world at 4:09AM is the perfect time for an insane insomniac to ramble about insanity. It's at the exact moment when the gears turn inside the watch and the hour and minute hands click into place to indicate this exact time that her brain starts functioning clearly. It's when she wonders, "what would you do if you had the whole world to yourself?"

Fiction

So I haven't written a fictional short story in a really long time but today seemed to inspire one. Here it goes.
  Outside, the soft crashes of raindrops against the bedroom window created curtains of undulating sound. Inside, the sound of suave strumming from Damien Rice's "Cannonball" escaped the crevices of her speakers. Inside, she stared at the person on the other side of her full length mirror.
Her eye corresponded with the crack that had long been installed in the top right corner of the mirror, though she could not recall how it had cracked. She looked into her eyes, those golden flecks in a pool of deep emerald, framed by premature wrinkles. She had once been told that those golden flecks were like the last glimmers of the sun before it retired beneath the horizon. She had been told that once.
Right now her forehead held lines of concentration, containing the mysteries of her painful past. This was the forehead her father had kissed when she was a child. He had tucked her secure under the warmth of her blanket, and as he left he had said, “I love you kiddo, always and forever.” Back then she didn’t know that forever could be so short.
She followed the curves of her smooth brown hair, which fell just below her shoulders. Every strand of her hair recalled the salty wind that blew through it on her trip to the beach with her boyfriend. Every single strand remembered dancing freely in the breeze, under the warm sun that struck her hair, letting her blonde highlights show. She remembered the way he looked at her as he pushed her hair behind her ear.
She looked at her lips, at the soft cupid’s bow and at her full lower lip that she often bit in nervousness. He was her very first kiss. He had flashed his goofy grin, the one she loved so much. He had taken her soft cheeks into his hands and she had felt safe in the frame of those strong fingers. She remembered the way his lips fit into hers, and even though it was her first kiss, she would not believe there existed a more perfect fit.
She looked at her long neck, inside of which rested “a brilliant set of vocal chords,” or so her voice teacher had said. Her voice teacher had told her that her voice was like a modern Billie Holiday, that she had the potential of making the heart weep or smile through a roller coaster phrase of notes. But she didn’t sing anymore. The emotions that once used to bring depth and strength to every note never found their way to her again.
Her eyes followed the neck down to the narrow shoulders, the skin stretched tight over her bony frame. She observed her arms, following the outline of her shoulders down to the forearms. Her boyfriend had begun to reveal a side of him she had not seen before. He had become controlling, forceful, demanding. She remembered the bruises, his very grasp recorded in imprints on her skin. She remembered the fights, the yelling, the tears. She remembered when she couldn’t deal with it anymore. The finger imprints were now replaced with reddish lines, the skin still irritated by the blade. It was the only way she could feel anymore.
From the forearms hung small, frail hands. Her fingers were bony but long and graceful. She used to look out at the night sky, feeling empowered as she placed the moon in between her thumb and index finger. She could almost feel the warmth of the light from the moon, feel the stars falling all around her, feel the energy from worlds beyond. She could feel.
She studied her legs and the knobby knees peeking out from under her skirt. She used to have recurring dreams of running. Running in a great expanse of land. No one else but her, in a land of cattails, daisies, and green grass. In her dream she could never judge how long she ran, but to her it was forever. As she ran she could feel every strand of grass brush against her bare foot and the air around her smelled sweet like sugary springtime. And then she would speed up. So much, in fact, that she would be on the verge of flying. She could feel the heels of her feet lifting up towards the sky, and then it would be over. She would awake to reality.
She looked down at her feet, remembering all the roads she’s traveled. She was never a fashion expert, but she always liked shoes. They took her places. But now, as she tried on every pair she had, she couldn’t help but ask if she was going anywhere at all.
She lay in her bed, lulled by the sound of rain and her own thoughts. And as her eyelids grew heavier, the rain threatened to wash her away to a dreamland full of daisies and cattails.

Morning Bird

It’s not your style
You smile-
Can you stay a while?
You’re the bird
I heard-
Tell me what’s the word?
With every lie
I sigh-
Are you saying goodbye?

Like Pieces of Shattered Glass

Like Pieces of Shattered Glass
The buzzing static in your head
The rising heat upon your face
The things you see while lying in bed
The words you say rimmed with grace
The doodling of fragile hearts
The tiny nerves, a chain reaction
The steps you take a profound art
The past forgotten, just imagination
Like
         pieces
                     of
shattered
                                           glass.
Do not sing to me the Once upon a time
The Happily ever...
Please let’s leave the camera
Lonely on my desk
Expectation in its big eye
Waiting to wink
Wasting away
Waiting to store our
Watery memories
Where the people are smiling
Like
         pieces
                     of
shattered
                                           glass.

Ecuador-finito...

^That's not even Spanish. The point is, I feel I haven't entirely tied up ends about my Ecuador trip due to my recent problem of eternal bodily exhaustion. So naturally I'm going to list here a mixture of words I used frequently in that crazy foreign country and talk about how they relate to my trip.

Gringos: A white person from an English speaking country.
How to even sum this up into a nice bite sized paragraph? Our gringo house, the gringo circus, the gringo playpen, getting called gringos all the time by everyone else and getting whistled at every time we stepped outside...what a fully Ecuadorian country Ecuador was. I can understand that they just weren't used to seeing gringos, let alone a Chinita (little Chinese girl). But hey Ecuador, as much as I love you, I'm Korean.

Habitación: Room/accomodation.
This is one word I learned, purely from repetition. Every time our group took weekend trips, it was necessary to find a room to stay in, and most of the times, the room was located in a hostal. Although some of the questionable sheets and worn-down walls used to make me finicky at first, I adjusted to staying in a room with no air conditioning, water pressure, hot water, or heat. These hostals, however ridiculous, gave us all a funny story to look back on. And it gave us a chance to live on less.

Taxi/autobus/trole: Taxi/bus/trolley.
Public transportation being a common way to move from place to place, these words were used frequently in Ecuador. Unfortunately, they do not bring to mind a positive connotation. Speeding buses never stopped fully for passengers to get on or to exit. Some taxi drivers were not the friendliest. On trolleys it was imperative that we protect our belongings so that they did not get stolen. And as a general rule of thumb, no Ecuadorian vehicle ever followed the rules of traffic. Let's just say that by the end of my trip, I learned to shut my eyes, close my mouth, and infinitely trust that the driver was in fact competent.

Helado: Ice cream.
Being stressed out from the kids after school and craving a yummy frozen treat, the TQP bunch adopted a habit of seeking out the lovely corner store every 2 days [but really, who am I kidding..it was more like everyday]. Also, there was this mysterious and very shady looking store that stood very close to our house, with a questionable "helado" sign outside. Hannah and I decided that they sold helados....DEL SANGRE (which means ice cream... of blood, of course).

Marcar [?]: to pick up?
Still not quite sure where this particular phrase stems from. But everyday the kids would whine, "Amárcame, profe!" which means "Pick me up professor." Now this was not just a normal whine. We learned very quickly that the Ecuadorian kids could adopt some sort of superhuman whiny voice that was able to annoy us a ridiculous amount. And even though we made fun of it and got annoyed once in a while, the kids were just so wonderful that we did indeed pick them up, whiny voices and all.

This was just a quick wrap-up of some of the daily things from my trip that I will miss...with the exception of the public transportation. Although some of these things may sound negative from those simply reading, for all of us TQP'ers, they all created memories that we could truly treasure. Not because we were "living the life" in Northern Quito, not because we knew everything from the get-go, but because we figured everything out on the way, and learned to "rough it," together. Only this way did I come back to the U.S. being really grateful for every luxurious thing that I get to live with here.

Final day- hellish.

Friday was...extremely difficult and ridiculously uncomfortable. Not because the day was terrible, but because it was the last day and I couldn't stop crying. The actual day was pretty good, with the exception of Hannah and I being mysteriously ill. We had a students vs. teachers soccer game and we performed a dance that Annie choreographed the night before. We all had our own "stations" where we did different activities with the kids. Although most of the day was a little blurred by my sickliness, Henry and I had a whole lot of fun running our obstacle course station. The kids got really competitive and dizzy and clumsy.. all at once. Kevin and Milton did the whole obstacle course so fast, and screamed with their adorable voices something about no one being able to beat them. For some reason, the sadness didn't hit me until about 2 seconds before the kids left, at which point I asked Hannah if they were really leaving. I was beyond confused...how could people get so attached to one another, after only about 3 weeks? I told all the kids hopeful things about how I wished them well and how I wish I had helped them. Hugging each of them and sobbing, I didn't want to let them go. But alas, it was necessary. I just remember the saddest thing of all was the fact that I couldn't see them grow into wonderful people...I wouldn't get to see what improvements they would make at school. Even knowing that the kids probably didn't understand the concept of e-mail, I gave them each my e-mail address, hoping one day I would get a cheerful message about their exciting lives.
Saturday, my "last day" here was spent relaxing with Hannah and Annie. I went to MegaMaxi to buy last minute foods I wanted to bring home, and there happened to be a market right by our house, so I bought a couple things for friends there. After that, the rest of the day was spent relaxing with Annie and Hannah. We watched Along Came Polly, which was a lot grosser than I remembered, but we enjoyed watching a simple funny movie together. When it was time to leave, the sadness started to set in..as we exchanged hugs and the cab started driving, I felt as if I was leaving my own family. Was it because I was sad to leave Ecuador? Maybe because of this, my fate was to stay in this country for 3 more days. I was not allowed to leave because I didn't have my green card with me. And what's more, was I had to wait until Monday, when the U.S. embassy would be open again. So back I went, without a phone, without certainty that people were home, and in my frazzled state, I even forgot how to get to the entrance of our neighborhood. It was really horrific. But luckily, Bri had gotten to a computer at the airport and messaged people in the house. Luckily, I was able to get inside the house.
After waking up on Sunday morning, everything felt like a terrible nightmare. While I was beating myself up, everyone else decided to go to the virgin statue. Annie stayed back with me, however, and told me that she knew exactly how I felt. That she would be blowing the problem out of proportion in her head too, and that I shouldn't be alone in my thoughts. So, after taking a shower and clearing my head, we went downtown for a little bit of wandering. I ended up having a great day with Annie, first getting lost [both of us are directionally challenged, go figure] and then looking around the market. The day was so loosely planned and adventurous, and I had a blast. We ran into some of the others, who told us that Alex's family wanted to have dinner with us that night. We got back, relaxed, and got ready for dinner by the Santo Domingo trole station. The streets by the station were so cute and cozy, with lots of restaurants and tiny stores. Even though we were there during nighttime, I could visualize the camraderie that would take place during the day. We ate empanadas and talked about all the funny things that had happened during our time here, and got back home in Alex's cousin's car.
Monday, more people left and it was just down to Caitlin and I. Through my frantic energy, she stuck with me all day while I tried to get documents for my green card. It would have been impossible without Paulo, the super open minded and kind taxi driver. He not only took us to every place I needed to go, but he also talked to the police and migration and gave us a tour of parks and a museum. After Caitlin and I got back, we ate dinner and Caitlin got ready to leave. We watched Remember Me, which was super depressing, especially because I would be home alone for the night [I would have the first and second floors all to myself.] I was so incredibly grateful for Caitlin and Paulo and everyone who tried to help me through all of this.
Today I woke up thinking about my plane ride home later tonight. In a daze, I helped Keren and Casey clean up the house. Even through the nostalgia that was hitting me as I looked at the empty rooms, I could not imagine going through this nightmare of my green card situation any longer. As I went through my day only hoping for the night to come, I took in Ecuador, and wanted to remember enough of the adventures TQP had here to tell my family and friends.

Thirty-eighth day- emotional.

Today was an eventful day. Some things that happened while Hannah and I were not feeling too great:
-Eduardo, who had been absent from our class for about 2 weeks, came back to school today. It was definitely a high point of my day.
-Milton cried about getting on "the list," which led to me explaining to him that he was not a bad kid.
-Xavier hit the other kids at recess, resulting in me yelling at him.
-After recess, I came into a class full of kids with various wooden sticks, trying to hit each other.
But one of the biggest things today was that Jairo cried. He was misbehaving in class [which is a normal occurence], so I took him outside and gave him the "disappointed" speech. To this he only nodded in silence and agreed, until I gave him a hug. He broke into tears during our embrace, which not only reminded me that he is indeed a good kid, but also of the fact that I would miss him a ridiculous amount back in the states. It reminded me of why I loved Jairo so much...because even though he misbehaves, he can do well with the right kind of attention. With kids like him and Milton, I really couldn't imagine leaving. I couldn't imagine giving them the attention they needed and then leaving them to return to normal school.
After school, I got some laundry done and during the night we all played Oh Heck and Most Likely To. I can't remember the last time that I laughed so hard for such a long time. During Most Likely To, everyone clearly got the pieces of paper that matched their fake "stereotypes," which made the game extremely hilarious. Caitlin got the ones related to violence, Alaina and Courtney with being attractive young women, Annie with being strange, and so on. Four people from our ed group, who are heading to Peru, are leaving tomorrow which set a sad tone on this night. It hasn't quite hit me that we're leaving so soon...but laughing and enjoying every minute here has made me realize I love all these people so very much.

Thirty-seventh day- dramatic.

So Friday morning we woke up early, and got ready to take off to Mindo. After the hurried blur of the morning, we were finally on the bus to the northern side of Quito, and then on another bus to Mindo [most of which, for me, was spent sleeping]. When we finally got off at Mindo, the first of our many dramatic events of the weekend had occurred. Caitlin couldn't find her medicine or toiletries...or sweatshirt. After a while, the gang puzzled together that her stuff must have been stolen, because the stolen items were the ones that were placed towards the top of her backpack. Annoyance aside, we hopped on the back of a pickup truck [which by now had become too common a mode of transportation for us] and were on our way to find a hostal. We arrived at the main part of Mindo, a home-y rural town with lots of quaint restaurants and cottage-cozy hostals. After a long gander at the beautiful view at the Hostal Sanchez, we dropped our things off and set off to Pizza de Tere. Being as hungry as we were, the 7 of us ended up ordering 3 large pizzas. In the process of ordering and eating, we met the friendly owners, one of whom told us that "Todo es posible en Mindo." After making our stomachs happy with food, we went to find a place to zip line. Although I'm not normally a big fan of being high above the grounds in nothing but a harness around my legs, we all decided to venture into the forest for some adventure. After only a couple zip lines, my dear friends had established to our guides that my nickname was Chucky, which started a long session of nickname-making. Which also established a "casi novios" case between Henry and Bri, which Henry was not too happy about. But the 13-zip-line adventure overall was such a fun experience. We zipped through the forest in mariposa pose, superman pose, and bouncing up and down while the guides pulled the line up and down. We found a yummy chocolate/coffee place, and had humongous pieces of brownie. After that, we went to a bar outside with swings as chairs that we had spotted ahead of time. We all ate burgers and had a grand time and then went out to El Diablo after playing the "most likely to.." game in our room. Caitlin started getting sick and drama filled our night, but we had fun nonetheless.
The next morning, Hannah, Annie, Alex and I went to El Quetzal [the cute chocolate place we went to the night before] for breakfast. I had delicious coffee [the first cup of coffee I had in Ecuador that wasn't instant] and pancakes to prep me for a long day of hiking. We went back, Caitlin decided she would venture on despite her incessant vomiting, and were off to the waterfalls. We took a cable car from one side to the other in order to get to the waterfalls. We had a pleasant walk with singing, talking and taking pictures, and we got to see about 4 waterfalls. Annie, Alex, and Hannah paid a couple dollars to jump into a waterfall which was epic. After the waterfall hike which left us out of breath, we went to lunch at a Mexican restaurant. We were absolutely famished because it was around 4, and ended up devouring all our food in negative 5 seconds. After our very late lunch, Caitlin and Alex left, and the rest of us decided to stay in Mindo for another day. The 5 people left went to find a hostal. We walked into "Bird Planet," which looked very expensive but stupendous. It was expensive. While we were in the process of leaving to look for another hostal, however, the lady caught us and made a deal we could not refuse. She gave us a cabana for $7 per person, and we took it. The cabana was small and cute and a lot like a doll house. We loved it. After settling in and taking a shower, we decided to go out to El Quetzal [for the millionth time now] to get a brownie snack. At the cafe, we looked through a book of dogs and picked ones that matched our personalities/looks, which was followed by a thorough reading of the dogs. Laughing and talking, we returned to the hostal and played card games like Oh Heck, which we all learned to love. Annie decided to go to bed early since she didn't feel too great, and Hannah and I came upstairs to see her sleeping on the floor [there were only 2 beds]. She woke up, said she needed to go to the bathroom, talked to Henry and Bri downstairs, and came back upstairs. Hannah and I assumed that she was awake, but apparently she was sleepwalking because when we woke her up later to get her to sleep on the beds with us, she said that she had been sleeping the whole time. We all had a good laugh and talked about our fake ideals in men [aliens, hobos, etc] until Henry pretended to be our dad and told us to go to bed.
Sunday morning, we woke up and Hannah and I decided we would want to go to the butterfly house while the others relaxed. We ended up going to ChocolArte with Annie and Henry, getting delicious toast-and-omelette breakfasts. Bri woke up feeling sick so she ended up staying back in the cabana and Annie wanted to explore elsewhere. Henry, Hannah and I set off to the butterfly house, walking for about 30 minutes to get there. The butterflies were very unique and we got to hold them in our hands but the $5 we paid to get in was a little bit overpriced. After grabbing some last minute snacks and medicine [for Bri, poor thing], we were ready to leave, when we found out that the 2:00 bus was full. Because of this, we ended up cramming in the 2:00 bus without seats. Despite this, I had a pretty good bus ride back besides being very tired from the weekend trip. When we returned, the house was empty due to the other half of our group that was still in Montanita. I had a pretty relaxing Sunday after I got home, and got ready for school the next day.
Monday went pretty normally, with school in the morning and relaxed afternoon after school. I was extremely tired and cranky last night so I went to bed early.
Today I went to school and had a surprisingly great day. Everyday I've been with the kids, Jairo has been the troublemaker of the class, but one that will listen and come around if I cater to his needs. Today, my argument to him was that I would be leaving soon and that I didn't have time to fight with him. After that, he listened to me once again and told me he would come to the U.S. with me. It was a re-realization that kids like him are sweethearts, that their troubled minds just need someone to understand and to have the patience to wait for them. Xavier also surprised me today. I had a very soar throat in the afternoon, thus needing the kids to be quiet. Xavier continued to talk, but after I told him very firmly that I won't ask him to be quiet anymore, he stopped and listened. Again, kids coming around. Wonderful. I also had some sad realizations, like the fact that Jenyfer's dad hit her mom. She wrote about her in her diary entry about inspirational people, and although it warmed my heart, it made me sad that I couldn't help her home situation.
After school, Hannah and I went down to La Mariscal and explored, seeing La Basilica and 4 other churches. They were all beautiful in their own ways, and I loved having the freedom of exploring the city with my dear friend. We had dinner at "La Menestra del Negro," which besides being more than slightly racist was pretty decent food. Afterwards, we left and came back to the house, realizing that we had been out for about 5 hours! Tomorrow we are hopefully taking salsa lessons, under the assumption that my stiff bones will care to move a little.

Thirty-second day- bittersweet.

Last night after recovering from my mysterious illness, we decided to venture off to Bungalow 6 as a belated celebration of Lianna's birthday. Everyone had a great time, laughing and dancing...including the older lady who was extreme drunk dancing by the time we got to the club. When it was about midnight, Caitlin, Sam and I decided to leave, except Caitlin was detained by a creepy girl she had met earlier. She was holding onto Caitlin for dear life and Sam had to push her away. The adventures didn't end there, however. Alex found a mouse in the house, and decided that he would kill it if it was the last thing he did. He didn't end up succeeding at this task, but made lots of noise in the process. After a noisy night, we went to bed.
This morning, we all went to school as usual [after doing dream analyses like I've been doing every morning for the others in the house], except I was burdened by the knowledge that it would be Antony's last day with us. In the morning, we had lessons as usual and everyone was relatively good. In the afternoon, we watched the Lion King. After the day, it was time to say goodbye to Antony. He's always been the good kid in our class, the intelligent and affectionate one. It was really difficult to part ways and Alexa and I ended up shedding some tears. After all of that though, I was able to say that I hoped I had helped him at least a little bit in school. I was overwhelmed by a bittersweet feeling of not having had enough time to teach him more, but it did feel good to think that I had some part in this wonderful child's life. After school, I took a nap, having had only about 5 hours of sleep the night before. We had dinner and gathered in our room for some True Blood and talking after half of the ed component left for Montanita. We had hilarious conversation about people's sleeping habits and other things until we finally decided to get packing for Mindo tomorrow. It was bittersweet letting Antony go, and even harder thinking about the other kids in my class, but I am very excited to go to Mindo, the cloud forest tomorrow!

Thirty-first day- tired.

On Monday, after a delightful nap, I went on a run with Bri and Alex. Despite their normal speed demon pace, we were all able to go at a more relaxed pace together. After the run and yummy dinner, we had a bedroom party and jumped on top of mattresses together.
Tuesday was a rough day overall, with me feeling not so great and the kids bouncing off the walls. After school, some people decided to go to the museum in La Mariscal but I was tired and sickly so I decided to take a nap. I was glad that I decided to stay home because everyone else returned around 7 or 8 and I wouldn't have had enough energy to be out for that long. The 4 or 5 of us that were home around 6 had a nice cozy dinner together and then the rest of the night was spent hanging out together. While I was getting ready for classes for the next day, Sam and Caitlin came downstairs and had delicious spaghetti, the smell of which seduced me into a fourth meal. Little did I know this spaghetti would lead to nausea and vomiting the next morning.
Waking up this morning, I felt not great. Not great at all. I was very hesitant to stay home, but Hannah and Alexa thought it was all for the best. I was glad I stayed home, because I ended up throwing up and not feeling too great. I feel a lot better now which is great, but I still feel drained of energy. The rest of the day is up in the air.
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