Crushed (Sketch #3)

SLAAAAAM. My whole body lurched forward into the expanding air bag. It seemed as if time was going at a crawl as my red Volkswagen Bug smashed into the beige sedan. Pieces of my car flew across the pavement. I started to feel pain all over, but then everything went black.

When I woke up, I was laying in the back of an ambulance with a medic by my side. “She’s awake!” I heard from what seemed like a mile away. My eyes opened as I tried to remember why I was there in the first place. As my fuzzy mind tried to remind me of the events of the car wreck, I hear my mom’s voice and see her coming up to the stretcher. “Is she okay?” she frantically asked the medic. “Yes, she will be alright. But we will have to take her to the hospital right now.” As if on cue, the ambulance’s siren started wailing as it lurched forward at a lightening rate.

Those next few days were not the most enjoyable in the hospital. First, I had to learn exactly what happened since my memory of those few seconds was very blurry. Here’s the story. My mom and I were coming home from a doctor’s appointment that I had, so she was following me in her car. I was in the far right lane, and the road was jam-packed with cars (as Dallas usually is). My lane was unusually clear, so I started to drive at a normal speed next to the unmoving cars in the other lanes. Unfortunately, a woman had just turned across all of the traffic, thinking that my lane was clear. Well, it wasn’t, so I slammed into her at nearly 50 miles per hour, which could explain the extreme damage in the accident. In fact, both cars were completely totaled. But on the slightly bright side, it wasn’t my fault at all so her insurance had to pay for a new car for me.

Besides these recollections, I had to deal with the fact that I had tubes coming out of me at every angle. I don’t do needles very well, so that was a large issue on my part. Luckily, despite the horrific accident, I only had bruises all over, whiplash, and a slightly cracked rib. But I definitely know that it could have been much worse than that. I was especially luckily that my mom could stop in time in order to avoid me, and that she could come with me to the hospital.

The hardest part about this accident, however, wasn’t the physical damage I had. It was dealing with the fact that I had to get out there and drive again. Even after getting the new car a couple of weeks later, I still couldn’t do it. As an about-to-graduate senior, I seriously had my parents drive me everywhere for about a month or so. Finally, after much prayer and encouragement from my parents (I’m sure they were sick of driving me), I got back on the roads. And I have to say, it was a weird experience.

I wouldn’t have thought it would have been so hard to learn to trust myself again. Even after almost a year, I still have to give myself a pep talk to drive during any form of traffic. But I have truly learned that it is possible to repair trust again. It may be very hard, but it is possible. I just had to get back out there and do it. I’ve had many experiences of different people losing my trust, and I’ve always had trouble giving it back to them. But if I could give myself my trust back, why couldn’t I give it to others as well? The memories may not go away, like my car crash, but I can still learn to trust. Life is definitely way too short to not pour ourselves fully into our relationships by not trusting others.

I may not be perfectly healed from this event (heck if I sneeze I can still pop my rib out!), but it in enough retrospect now that I can see the value I found somewhere in the ashes of my red Volkswagen.

Meeting Mohammed and Alia (ESL Blog #3)

If you know me at all, you would know how bad my addiction to coffee is. I have more than a few cups a day, and become severely grouchy if I don’t get my fix. So when Mohammed told me he would be bringing me some coffee that he had made, I was obviously more than excited to try it. “It’s not going to be what you are used to!” he kindly warned me. Thinking I could easily handle it, I took a big sip from the steaming cup. As he had told me, I was nearly induced to spit it out. It was the most potent cup of coffee I had ever tried. Mohammed laughed as he said that’s what he was expecting from me, so at least I didn’t feel too bad.

            Sipping back on my (now seemingly) weak latte from Union Grounds, I asked them what they had done that weekend. They said they spent their weekend planning their summer vacation to go to Colorado, so they could see the mountains that they had never seen before. Alia then started to tell me about the many places they used to visit when they lived in Saudi Arabia. Ranging from India to China, they had seen more of the world then I could have imagined. They suggested that if I ever decided to go over to that area, I should try to visit Dubai. “It’s like the Indian version of New York City. You feel as if the whole world is pushed into one city. Yet it still has that small town feeling that you get here in Fort Worth.”

            Honestly, I had never thought I would want to visit that part of the world. But after hearing her long description about how many places there are to visit, restaurants to eat in, and people to see, I was definitely intrigued. I guess, like the coffee, I have some cultural biases that I don’t even realize. I’ve always prided myself on being an open-minded person who loves learning new things and exploring other people’s ideas. But I guess I don’t often think about how influenced by my culture I am. Take the coffee for example. I equated all coffee as equal as opposed to thinking that there could be different kinds of coffee. Obviously this is just one small thing among others, but talking to Mohammed and Alia has helped me begin to at least notice these small things in my life.

            One especially new thing I learned this week was that many English words come from the Arabic language, like alcohol and mascara for example. Also, many words are very similar, like tomato and potato. Using a completely different alphabet makes it seem like the two languages would have much in common, but Mohammed mentioned that some of these connections have helped him throughout his learning process. Judging from their superb progress, I definitely trust that they know what they’re talking about.

La Ville-Lumière (Sketch #2)

It was just one of those moments. One of those moments that only lasted but a few seconds, but in retrospect it seemed to last a lifetime. One of those moments that I will not forget for the rest of my life. It was the moment I reached the top of the Eiffel Tower.

It began with the huffing and puffing of my family as we climbed the many stairs to the top. My dad always thought that elevators were for the handicapped, so we were the ‘fortunate’ people who took the last time slot to climb the 1600 stairs to the platform. When we finally made it, I couldn’t help but run to the side of the railing and try to look down as far as the safety net would let me.

Peering over the side, I could see the sparkling lights all around me. The Eiffel tower seemed to glisten like the beacon of Paris. The city lights below were tiny sparks reminding me of the life way below me. If I squinted my eyes enough, I could see the miniature people down below roaming around town. My eyes were as big as saucers.

Even from way up high, I could hear cars honking to try to get people to move. Around me were tourist of many nationalities, so I could hear conversations in French, Italian, Spanish, and even some I didn’t even recognize. Holding a fresh baguette in my hand, the warmth heated up my freezing hands. The snow was beginning to fall faster now, and the flakes landed upon my jacket covering me in a layer of frost.

All of my senses seemed to be on fire as I tried to write this moment into my memory, worried it could be gone forever.

For most people, seeing something like the Eiffel Tower would be exciting, but for me it was more like a fairytale dream come true. Ever since I was little, my room had been filled with Paris and Eiffel Tower mementos: from lamps and books to snow globes and tiny statues. It created burning desire in me to go there. I begged my mom constantly, and even saved up every dollar I possibly could for years. Then one day, my mom announced we were going because I had saved $500 (obviously not enough to pay for the trip, but she knew how much this would impact me). That alone was enough to make me faint. The pinaccle moment of the trip was once I arrived to the top of the tower because it was as if so many of my dreams were coming to a peak. I couldn’t help but cry. I know it sounds cheesy, but for a middle school girl it was the most exciting event to ever occur to me.

 That day was the beginning of me realizing that I can make my dreams come true. Not in a lame way like some movies make it seem, but in a much deeper way. Since then, I have become a much more passionate person: about life, about others’ lives, and about how I think about everything. I began making thoughtful goals and finding ways to reach them. I began finding ways to become closer to my family and friends. I try to find things I love so I can go after them wholeheartedly. I know it may seem like a stretch from just a short trip, but the sparkles from that tower just continue to create sparks in my life. 

Huck Finn Experience Questions

1. Have you read the novel Huck Finn before?  If so where and why?

I have read Huck Finn, and I read it before my senior year of high school as a part of our summer reading assignment.

2. What was your response to reading Huck Finn, and what do you remember from your reading?  Also, did you actually read the whole novel, or just parts of it?  Did you read Cliff Notes or Monarch Notes instead?

Originally, I absolutely hated Huck Finn, but that was mostly because I had to read it over the summer when I could have been doing many other things. When I was re-reading the novel, I remembered most of the story (like the basic characters and plot line) from what I had read, but I couldn’t have recalled enough just by reading Cliff Notes. Thus, I decided to fully re-read the novel.

3. If you were assigned to read Huck Finn in a previous class, either here or in high school, how did your class as a whole react to the novel?  Why do you think your instructor assigned the novel?  How did he or she try to “teach” the novel?

Overall, my classmates liked to novel, but found it to be slightly tedious. I think my teacher assigned it because over the course of senior year, we read many stories of how people come to have different beliefs and thus new lives (like Crime and Punishment.) She taught the novel from a perspective that the book is mainly about how Huck has to grow up throughout the novel.

4. If you were required to read Huck Finn in a previous class, what sort of assignments were you required to complete, and what exactly did you do during the classes when

Huck Finn was being discussed.

I had to answer discussion questions before school started as I read through the book, and during the two classes we talked about it we did an assignment on the different aspects that Huck has to grow in, and then we had to write an in-class essay about it.

5. Huck Finn is still one of the most controversial and most banned books in America.  Why is it so controversial?

I think it is so controversial because of its honest portrayal of the slave-society mindset that most people had in that day and age. I don’t think most people want to think that normal people had slaves, and used words like the “n-word”. I think Mark Twain’s honest seriously scares people, and that’s why most people do not like to accept this book.  

6. Is Huck Finn still relevant to you as college student today?  Should it continue to be taught in college classrooms?

I think it is definitely still relevant to me today. Overall, the story tells a story about how a boy has to grow up and try to buck the system that he has grown up in. I think in any day and age it is important to learn how to question the rules and regulations that we grow up with. I think that college students should especially learn how to take their beliefs into their own hands instead of just trusting what they have always known.

7. The general consensus among critics is that Huck Finn is a brilliant and powerful novel, but also a flawed and problematic novel?

I think the dialogue and the native language used might be hard for people to understand. It may be hard for some people to actually understand what is being said, let alone the meaning behind those words. I think it might be flawed in its use of the “n-word” because for some, it may be hard to overcome seeing that word so often. I also think it could be problematic because, at least to me, the ending was slightly annoying with Tom and Huck trying to release Jim. It seemed to be way too dragged out, and that really made me not even want to finish the novel at all.

Short Hair, Long Laughs (Sketch #1)

As we huddled in her closet, 6-year olds Kaity and I knew that no one would see this one coming. We had done pranks before, like whoopee cushions, and water-spraying flowers, but this one was huge. The plan? We would switch places for one week, and on Saturday we would reveal the big secret to our parents. Amazed at our ingenious prank, our parents would laugh so hard that they would want to take us out to our favorite ice cream store.

But there was a slight problem in our differing appearances that had to first be addressed. I had bangs that hung right above my eyes, while Kaity had hair that was all one length. For a while, we stood puzzled. But suddenly, the solution seemed to hit her like a freight train, “Let’s just cut them off! I have my scissors from school, and then it would look just like my hair!” Thus, we headed to the bathroom to commence our adventure.

Sitting on the cold granite counter top, my little legs continued to swing back and forth to the rhythm of the ticking clock. “We have to do it now before they come back!” she urged me in a harsh whisper. I bit my lip in intense concentration as my mind swirled with confusion. My palms sweated bullets. I knew this would work if we did it right, but if it failed, it would be the worst decision of my life.  In my meek voice I muttered, “Okay, just do it fast before I have time to think about it!” As I said that, large chunks of my dark brown hair started to fall to the tile floor while my hands clenched tightly over my eyes.

After about 30 minutes, I opened my eyes to Kaity squinting and snipping a few more pieces off of her creation. With a ‘voila’, the deed was done. I turned around to see my new ‘do in the mirror, only to be greeted by a poorly mowed football field on top of my head. My arms flailed back and forth as a collapsed onto the bathroom floor in a heap of tears and screams. Picture a chili-bowl haircut on top of a Mohawk. That was my hair at that moment, and obviously not quite the plan we envisioned. Instead of pulling our switch-a-roo, we had to call my mom crying.

Needless to say, my mom attempted anything to fix the mistake I made: wigs, hair attachments, and headbands. You name it; I tried it. To top off this most embarrassing time in my life, my mom would not let me go to my second grade pictures with any hair coverings (I’m assuming for punishment or some other form of parental humor), saying that I would laugh about it some day. Well I guess today is that day, and I do admit, it is one of the funniest moments from my childhood.

On a side note, I will attach a picture of this lovely event, which was taken about 3 months after it happened so it is much improved if you can believe that. I think the plaid jumper uniform really adds a nice touch. And don't worry, I will not be perusing a career in hairstyling. 

Meeting Mohammed and Alia (ESL #2)

We were in a predicament. Our normal meeting spot at the bookstore had apparently been threatened that day, but we didn’t know where else to go that Mohammed and Alia would like. Having only been in America for a little over a month, they have not grown accustomed to our food yet. So finding a location with something that they would like was hard. They knew they liked muffins at the bookstore, but I worried they wouldn’t like their other choices. “Let’s go to that ‘Potbelly’ place!” Mohammed finally decided. Nervous about their reactions, we soon walked into the warm restaurant.

Opening up their sandwiches, we began to talk about the types of food that they would normally cook. Mohammed’s eyes lit up as he began to talk about the food from his country. He told me that he normally cooks many rice dishes with shrimp, beef, or chicken with many different native spices. “Oh so you would love Pei Wei!” I exclaimed, clearly not understanding. Mohammed laughed as he said that the rice from their country was nothing like our American rice that gets too sticky for their dishes. But they were at least glad that I was attempting to help them find somewhere they could like.

Clearly, I have much to learn about their culture, so I asked about the places they like to eat at their home in Saudi Arabia. Alia explained that they lived in an apartment above a lively street, which included their favorite restaurants. From breakfast places to formal dinner restaurants, their street had it all. Now being here something she didn’t understand about our eating customs was the weird timing. She said in Saudi, they usually wake up late, like around 11 or 12, and then begin their day. Thus, their dinner didn’t begin until like midnight or later! I laughed a little because I’m typically in bed by that time. Mohammed explained his frustration with the early closing times of most American restaurants because he usually does his best work at late-night restaurants past 12 am.

“That must drive you absolutely bonkers!” I exclaimed, not even thinking. Both of them looked at me with the most confused look on their faces. After a few seconds of pure puzzlement from both sides, I realized I had used a weird phrase without even thinking about it. Obviously, I then explained that that phrase means that it must frustrate you to the point of annoyance, to which they both nodded their approval. I guess I don’t even realize how many of these idioms I use in my every day, or how weird they are. I began to think of some other weird idioms, like ‘pulling someone’s leg’ or ‘biting the dust’. It makes me laugh a little to think what most foreigners picture when they hear these ridiculous phrases that merely mean you are joking or losing a game.

As a born and raised American, I obviously take for granted these understood idioms. But as I have now realized, I need to be more careful whenever I use them around other people who may not have the same background that I do. If I do that, it will make my conversations much easier for people who are not familiar with our culture.

On a side note, in case you were wondering, both Mohammed and Alia loved their sandwiches from Potbelly! They were also very grateful that they found their first American restaurant at which they like to eat.

Questioning the World (Huck Finn Blog)

Having grown up in the midst of the charming South, I’ve always been taught those old adages like “Always use yes ma’am and yes sir,” and “You better make your bed ‘cause you’re gonna lie in it!” And being a good Southern girl, I never once questioned them. Otherwise, I’d be encountering those terse scolds my mom tended to have whenever I would break one those rules.

When I sat down early on a chilly Saturday morning to read Huck Finn, I was expecting a quick read about a boy who has to grow up. I had no idea that I would be encountering and contemplating all those little things my mom taught me from my childhood. Little Huck Finn, like my Southern self, was brought up learning many lessons that he never once thought to question, like stealing is okay if you absolutely need it and that certain people are supposed to be in slavery. But unlike me, Huck takes a bold step and actually questions these values.

One passage painted a picture that I will remember more than any other. In this section, Huck is feeling extremely guilty about not telling Miss Watson about Jim’s location, so he decides he needs to write her to come get her runaway. Upon finishing this letter, Huck feels as if the weight of the world has been lifted off of his shoulders. However, Huck realizes he can’t stop thinking about how Jim would pet his hair, sing to him, and call him his best friend. Torn up inside, he finally decides that he would rather go to hell than give Jim up, forcing him to “take up wickedness again.”

Earnest Hemingway once said: “About morals, I know only that what is moral is what you feel good after and what is immoral is what you feel bad after.” Judging from Huck’s decision, this is not true at all, even if that is what we subconsciously think. Huck has always been taught that when slaves runaway, they are to be returned without questions asked. Even though all of us today would agree that this was the morally upright choice, how is it that Huck could possibly feel guilty after? This is the question that kept nagging me, even long after I finished the novel.

            Unfortunately, the answer I have come up with is not one that I particularly like. I think all of us, Huck included, are more of a product of our culture than we even realize. Your morals and values will be shaped in accordance to what surrounds you, whether that is beneficial or absolutely crippling like slavery. That is inevitable. However, like Huck, we can push the bounds of society to a new world, or should I say the “best of all possible worlds.” I would like to learn from Huck, and find the parts of my life in which I can change that society may not like, but are morally upright. I hope I can find my Huck-sized courage somewhere inside of me to do that.

Home for the Holidays (20s-30s Blog)

In one monumental year, Babe Ruth hit his final home run, Elvis Presley was born, and the first Volkswagen was built. Amelia Earhart was lost into the Pacific, Stalin, Mussolini, and Hitler were in charge, and millions of Americans could not afford food for their families.

The year? 1935. This is also the same year that published the Ladies’ Home Journal that I found myself heaving off of the top shelf.

Opening up the musty book, I found myself in a magazine that popped with colorful drawings and pictures, bold text, and unique advertisements from Bisquick and Vicks Vapo-rub. Looking deeper, I noticed that all of the advertisements were targeted at women’s imperative needs like cooking, cleaning, and even ironing. Simultaneously, I noticed that most of the magazine was full of short stories. Ranging from mystery to romance to heroic, these stories seemed to be the perfect way for the 1935 housewife to get her mind away from the crushing depression. On many pages, there appeared an advertisement for women to earn their “very own money, without neglecting home duties.” Boy, is that different from the norm of the 21^st century where women are often the breadwinners.

Even with all these other captivating features, one article caught my eye. It was called “Home for the Holidays”, and featured two freshmen women who were coming home from their first semester at university. Named Betty and Mary Lou, the girls had been followed throughout the fall by the magazine, and this article would be covering how they should act while at home for the first time and how other girls could follow suit.

It began by saying that they would be packing away their socks, sweaters, and skirts, because that type of ‘casual attire’ would only be acceptable for class. Now that they were at home, they must begin to dress to impress to ensure that other people know that college ‘agrees’ with them. Thus, they must get rid of their tweed hats, since those were out of style, and start stocking up on “toques and turbans for going to lunch at the club.” Secondly, they must find an impressive dress for the New Year’s Eve party to complement their dates’ tuxes. After getting their hair cut, curled, and ‘foiled’ (which I learned meant colored), their new coming-home look would be complete.

Around the article, the beautifully drawn pictures of these outfits jumped off of the page. Every outfit that was pictured was highly conservative, yet elegant. It struck me that these girls were so concerned about looking polished every day for shopping, lunch, or even class. Comparatively on our campus, it is rare to see a girl that is not in sweat pants and a large T-shirt, let alone a skirt and sweater.

Comparing myself as a college freshman to these women, I feel as though I take my experience for granted. For girls of the 1930s, coming-of-age did not mean going to college, but instead it usually meant getting married and becoming a housewife. Women like Betty and Mary Lou were the lucky ones who were able to go away to school, to learn and grow like most women weren’t able to do in their time.  To them, being at college was an experience that was precious, so they needed to dress to impress. What a different concept than we see anywhere on TCU’s campus.

I may not begin to dress as refined as these women, but maybe I can learn to live each day in college for what it really is: a blessing. Even though for women in this era coming-of-age often includes college, it hasn’t always been that way. I am a part of a new type of woman, and I need to begin to embrace that. 

Meeting Mohammed and Alia (ESL Blog #1)

Sitting in Barnes and Noble with my iced coffee, I waited anxiously for Mohammed and Alia to arrive. I’m not normally a nervous person, but this would be a new experience for me. Besides some simple math tutoring for little kids, I had never been on the teaching side of anything. Once I saw them walking through the doors, I waved them over with my sweaty palms. Easing my nerves, they both immediately shook my hand firmly with a huge smile on each of their faces as they introduced themselves.

When we began talking, I was shocked at their superb use of English for only being in the United States for four weeks. Mohammad began to tell me that he worked for the environmental protection agency of Saudi Arabia after receiving two PhDs. After working for a few years, he was given a three-year vacation! What a difference from the (maybe) one-week vacations Americans get from their jobs. Sitting close to him, Mohammad’s wife Alia is also exceptionally intelligent as she taught science classes to college students at home. I felt so intimidated comparing their extensive knowledge to mine!

Nervously attempting at conversation, I asked Alia if they had any family in the area. Immediately her eyes lit up as she told me about her 3 children, 8 siblings, and dozens of nieces and nephews. It was hard for her to comprehend that most Americans have small families because in Saudi Arabia everyone has at least 5 siblings. Something I found different about her use of English is that she rarely referred to herself. Nearly everything she talked about had to do with “others-centered” stories and events. I guess the “me-centered” language seems so normal to most Americans, but to her it probably seems very selfish. I will definitely want to ask her about their opinion on this subject once we get to know each other better.

Then we began talking about a favorite topic of mine: food. Mohammed told me that they have had the most trouble finding cuisine that they like to eat. I couldn’t help but be in shock when they asked me what “Tex-Mex” and “bagels” were. Shocked, I explained with an almost drooling mouth (maybe due to my lack of lunch) about two of my favorite foods. The couple began talking about their favorite types of cooking, but in a slightly different way than I expected. Instead of referring to their love of specific types of food (like I had done), Alia talked more about how she cherishes cooking for her big family and having time to enjoy each other’s company. This also intrigued me, especially seeing that food is a main staple of enjoyment for most Americans

Finishing up our conversation, I really began to realize the cultural differences the couple faces in being in a new country. Being used to collectivistic and family-oriented situations at all times, it must be very hard to adapt to being in an immensely individualistic society. I truly hope that I will be able to gain the ability to see my world from a more collectivistic viewpoint, and help my language reflect that. I’m also hoping that they will have something, whether small or large, to learn from me. No matter what, I’m more than excited to begin this journey into this new territory.