Let's discuss college. We've all been there...it was good times. We studied quite a bit, made Club Mullins a second home, and had a large amount of fun in the process. And Razorback games. Oh Fayetteville...(that is my longing voice). Now go ahead and age yourself to 25 and then drop yourself back into that same routine (without the Guitar Hero since that's not "cool" anymore). Add in three careers, a few wonderful boyfriends, and quite a few countries -and all of that personal and professional growth. That equals a pretty good and steady lady as it turns out. Enter 3 undergrad roommates on study abroad plus the hoards of American friends they have (how do they all find each other?!). Now look y'all, I studied abroad three times in college. I get the drill. I wasn't the most fun person then as I was never much of a drinker, but I had my bits of fun. 3 am at Reverse on a Friday, all night on the beaches of Puntarenas, and drinking to the sound of a typhoon ripping apart Pingtung while I was locked and under house arrest for a few days (in those house arrest days, I was forced to rewatch Twilight over and over while making my McDonalds happy meal last for three days). See, fun. Now these kids - and yes, I refer to them as the kids, are havin their fun times as we speak. Well, probably not as we speak because it's 9 am on a gorgeous Saturday morning and they are probably holdin their pillows and the girls that happened into their beds wondering how in the hell they are going to do St. Patrick justice today. Ladies, I'm going to give you a piece of advice. When selecting a gentleman, stay FAR away from the partiers, the ones that can so attractively down four scrumpys and a box of wine in an hour. Those superior specimens WILL get fat, bald, become unemployed, produce unfortunate children, and eventually blame you for their overall resentment in life. Remember what your mommas said - go for the quirky funny/smart ones. The ones who sit back and smile as all the banchees play Edward 40 Hands, but wake up early on a Saturday hangover free and ready to go adventuring (preferably with you if you hooked them the night before). This advice comes from a net of zero marriages mind you. Last night was a normal Friday. Well, normal in the sense that I had my purse stolen at a bar the night before including all of it's contents. Namely my iphone 4s, my coach purse, my FAVORITE lip gloss, my wallet, my 3 debit cards, student id, house key, passport photos, and a not so attractive Arkansas driver's license. This event landed me at the Wellington Police Department for a bit of the afternoon. As I'm waiting in line to fill out my police report (required for me to get a new cell phone), I am replaying bits of Locked Up Abroad in my head. "Yes the man gave me that large hollowed out bull horn as a souvenir, but I had no idea that there could be cocaine inside of it! Wait, why are you arresting me?! Twenty years to life??! ... Twenty four hours later I'm mowing the lawn on my hands on knees, bright orange uniform, plucking grass outside of a Thai prison with my chipped fingernails. Some women are discussing who is going to initiate me into my new home...
I'll tell you what. Going to a prison in a foreign country is a good reminder to keep yourself out of trouble.
Five hours of canceling debit cards, getting new keys, new IDs, finding a way to acquire money, and filing insurance claims, my day was off to a rocky start. Being thirty minutes late for my first Climate Change class was also an enjoyable experience. I thought, "hey, no worries. It's the first day of class and I'll just slip in the back." It was not to be. Turns out I am one of 9 students in the class, "recognizable in name by my lateness." Ouch. "Presentation next Friday, who wants to start us out? Casey, how bout you take that on? Right-o." Thank you professor, you just made my day that much better. As referenced in my facebook status, this week was not my week. Include a fight with your boyfriend (that you picked as it turns out) and whew, I needed a drink. Instead of a drink, I opted for a 7 pm walk around the Botanical Gardens with my new friend Julianna. I come back home to a house full of the kids hecklin me about why "you never hang out with us. Oh, and we just ate your salsa." There are about fifteen of them in a small American circle. "My brother is the lead singer of a band." "Dude, I bet you can get so much action if you go to his shows." Another conversation is brewing - one that you can hear loud and clear because these kids love to scream over each other when they talk. "Have you tasted these chips? The chicken kind? They taste JUST like Thanksgiving...it's crazy." Casey picks up one and eats it. "You are on dangerous ground right now." Casey puts said chip back down, forgetting that it will be needed during post drunk binge eating time. How could I forget about that? In an attempt to escape back upstairs, I start to head out. Before I take a step, I feel a hand cup my left butt cheek and I hear a "You'd better go upstairs before it gets dangerous down here for you." Yes, because I'd run the risk of hooking up with a 20 year old like yourself. Thanks for the heads up.
So yes, that is what my home life looks like to date. Me sitting in my room attempting to study, and the kids downstairs playing with their new $15 dollar speakers "just to see how loud they'll go." (quite loud it turns out)
I'm up in my room at 9 pm trying to write my first ever real Rotary Speech and bribing myself to get started on my climate change work and maybe even take a look at the environmental law assignment due next week. That is difficult when Flogging Molly is being blared downstairs and the kids are screaming at each other for hours. They eventually head out around midnight. Silence. Bliss. Heaven.
4 a.m. "Boombababoombaboombaboombababayyysuperbass..." I'm sleeping! Growl. Hell. I stay in my room though and read some more about Paul Farmer. Even though I am old, I don't want to be a fuddy duddy. Eventually the kids fall into their respective beds with their respective ladies and pass out. I have no clue how two people can fit into a dorm room twin bed, but I'm assured that it isn't difficult.
Currently it's 9 am on an absolutely gorgeous Saturday in Wellington. I didn't get to go hike the Tongariro Pass today because of the lack of money and id that resulted in my stolen purse. It's too bad, because NZ doesn't get many days like this. Instead, I have made myself a to do list with ten bullets, all assignments that need to be completed. I don't have a prayer of getting it all done, but getting a good solid start will make me feel like a real person again. Here's to hopin! I think "breakfast will be a good way to get myself goin. I have milk from March 12 in the fridge (it's March 17...) and some Kellogg's flakes (NZ doesn't frost). That'll get me off to a good start." As I walk down the stairs, I smell french fries. Bottles, french fries, scrumpys, hair brush, clothes, shoes...all over the living room. I make my cereal and head back upstairs to where it's safe. As you read this, I will be sitting in a library looking out a window at the harbor, wishin I was tramping outside somewhere. Don't feel too sorry for me, I'm studying exactly what I want to in the exact place I have always been meant to be. :)
I'll tell you what. Going to a prison in a foreign country is a good reminder to keep yourself out of trouble.
Five hours of canceling debit cards, getting new keys, new IDs, finding a way to acquire money, and filing insurance claims, my day was off to a rocky start. Being thirty minutes late for my first Climate Change class was also an enjoyable experience. I thought, "hey, no worries. It's the first day of class and I'll just slip in the back." It was not to be. Turns out I am one of 9 students in the class, "recognizable in name by my lateness." Ouch. "Presentation next Friday, who wants to start us out? Casey, how bout you take that on? Right-o." Thank you professor, you just made my day that much better. As referenced in my facebook status, this week was not my week. Include a fight with your boyfriend (that you picked as it turns out) and whew, I needed a drink. Instead of a drink, I opted for a 7 pm walk around the Botanical Gardens with my new friend Julianna. I come back home to a house full of the kids hecklin me about why "you never hang out with us. Oh, and we just ate your salsa." There are about fifteen of them in a small American circle. "My brother is the lead singer of a band." "Dude, I bet you can get so much action if you go to his shows." Another conversation is brewing - one that you can hear loud and clear because these kids love to scream over each other when they talk. "Have you tasted these chips? The chicken kind? They taste JUST like Thanksgiving...it's crazy." Casey picks up one and eats it. "You are on dangerous ground right now." Casey puts said chip back down, forgetting that it will be needed during post drunk binge eating time. How could I forget about that? In an attempt to escape back upstairs, I start to head out. Before I take a step, I feel a hand cup my left butt cheek and I hear a "You'd better go upstairs before it gets dangerous down here for you." Yes, because I'd run the risk of hooking up with a 20 year old like yourself. Thanks for the heads up.
So yes, that is what my home life looks like to date. Me sitting in my room attempting to study, and the kids downstairs playing with their new $15 dollar speakers "just to see how loud they'll go." (quite loud it turns out)
I'm up in my room at 9 pm trying to write my first ever real Rotary Speech and bribing myself to get started on my climate change work and maybe even take a look at the environmental law assignment due next week. That is difficult when Flogging Molly is being blared downstairs and the kids are screaming at each other for hours. They eventually head out around midnight. Silence. Bliss. Heaven.
4 a.m. "Boombababoombaboombaboombababayyysuperbass..." I'm sleeping! Growl. Hell. I stay in my room though and read some more about Paul Farmer. Even though I am old, I don't want to be a fuddy duddy. Eventually the kids fall into their respective beds with their respective ladies and pass out. I have no clue how two people can fit into a dorm room twin bed, but I'm assured that it isn't difficult.
Currently it's 9 am on an absolutely gorgeous Saturday in Wellington. I didn't get to go hike the Tongariro Pass today because of the lack of money and id that resulted in my stolen purse. It's too bad, because NZ doesn't get many days like this. Instead, I have made myself a to do list with ten bullets, all assignments that need to be completed. I don't have a prayer of getting it all done, but getting a good solid start will make me feel like a real person again. Here's to hopin! I think "breakfast will be a good way to get myself goin. I have milk from March 12 in the fridge (it's March 17...) and some Kellogg's flakes (NZ doesn't frost). That'll get me off to a good start." As I walk down the stairs, I smell french fries. Bottles, french fries, scrumpys, hair brush, clothes, shoes...all over the living room. I make my cereal and head back upstairs to where it's safe. As you read this, I will be sitting in a library looking out a window at the harbor, wishin I was tramping outside somewhere. Don't feel too sorry for me, I'm studying exactly what I want to in the exact place I have always been meant to be. :)
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