Snapshot 7 - Emo

I'm back in the city. My teaching days are over, and I miss them terribly.

Yesterday was the last day of class. My groupmates joke about how all the kids love me. I'm not so sure about that, but I can say that I probably received the most cards and gifts out of the remaining five of us teachers. (Apple had to leave the island, due to a very serious injury that I may perhaps explain another day.) Two of my students, Eva and Angel, bought me the cutest teddy bears as a farewell gift. The funny thing is, the teddy bears actually remind me of them -- Angel's is cute and refined while Eva's is rougher and more wild-looking. A bunch of others wrote me cards -- I even received cards from students that weren't even in my class.

Just a note -- all the things I received were from girls. I suppose I get along really well with the girls. Pear is probably the guys' favorite -- and everyone likes to make fun of Banana, which is probably my fault, since I purposely make fun of him during class. It keeps the kids laughing and it keeps the two of us in good spirits. Fortunately, he has a good sense of humor and takes all the abuse in stride.

This coming week, I'll be on a tour with some of the other 300 people in this program. I'll at least still be able to hang out with my kickass groupmates, and I'm excited about being able to catch up with my ex-roommates.

But I miss the kids so much. I miss how they'd always cling to my arm, how they'd hold my hand when we walked around the school, how they'd laugh whenever Banana and I made fun of each other during class, how they'd sit around my laptop amazed by my Minesweeper skills, how they chased after me during P.E. and were wowed by how fast I ran, how they would touch my earrings everyday in admiration. It makes me so sad to think about the very probable fact that I may never see them again.

Snapshot 6 - Metamorphosis

A part of me is misanthropic.

Don't get me wrong. I love my groupmates and my students and the people who take care of us here. But there are times when I just want to get away from everyone.

This school is very nice -- I would say it's even better than my high school. Like a cat, I've been spending the afternoons finding different places to sit by myself with my mp3 player. Last time, I sat for over an hour on this ledge that faces the lake across the street from the school. I sat there with my legs dangling over the ledge, earbuds in my ears, singing along with my music without even caring that the occasional passersby were staring or walking by a little faster than before.

I do a lot of thinking when I sit there. I take the time to recollect my thoughts as I watch the sun begin to set on the other side of the lake. I've been asking myself the same questions for so long, but it seems like the answers are finally coming.

Snapshot 5 - Camaraderie

My groupmates are quite the characters.

There are six of us -- all from the United States -- assigned to teach English at this school on this tiny island. Here's a brief description of my fellow teachers, and in the parentheses are the descriptions we assigned to each other last night and the translated nicknames that we've given each other (and continuing with tradition, I will use code names):

Banana (the creeper) - My current teaching partner. Extremely outgoing, self-deprecating about his height (5'7") and his weight (he got his BMI checked at this nuclear plant, and the meter said he was 33% -- which would be morbidly obese... but really, I don't think he's THAT fat), kind of gross (keeps burping in my presence on purpose and annoys the hell out of everyone when he dumps his leftover ramen down our sink), very funny but usually in a vulgar way, can also be a good listener (talked to me after I got yelled at by my mom on the phone right before our opening ceremony), has the most hilarious accent (I keep snorting in the middle of class because of his terrible Mandarin).

Peach (the kind one) - My current roommate. The shortest of the bunch, very bubbly and loves singing, a little clutzy (keeps bumping her head everywhere), ballerina, artist, talented in all kinds of artistic forms, lives about thirty minutes away from me back in California, loves eating shaved ice -- especially for dinner, saves injured birds

Apple (the health nut) - Peach's teaching partner. Heading to Harvard this fall, vegetarian, constant target of mosquitos, scared of other people's spit (as in , she refuses to share drinks), wondering how she's going to get a boyfriend if she's afraid of kissing, can fall asleep almost anywhere (everytime we sit in a car, she falls asleep right away)

Pear (the sexy one) - My ex-teaching partner. Has the best catwalk I have ever seen -- which is even more amazing considering that he's a guy, rather mellow and enjoys staying up to gossip/chat/confide with Peach and me, the tallest and youngest one, walks as fast as me when we walk to and from the elementary school, constantly playing the guitar

Tangerine (the weird one) - Banana's ex-teaching partner and Pear's current teaching partner. Constantly singing the children's songs we have to teach because those songs never get out of your head. Photographer. Sassy. Screams at all kinds of bugs. Constantly bickering with Banana (which is why everyone used to think that Banana and Tangerine had a thing for each other).

And me? Apparently, I'm the "chill one" and the "badass" -- the one who wears gladiator sandals, dramatic earrings, the one who relocates bugs that crawl into our suite, the one who Pear thinks is stoned because I never seem to freak out (which is not true)

I wouldn't call us the best of friends, but we've got a pretty amazing dynamic in terms of working together. Banana would be the annoying brother who teases/bullies his sisters; Pear would be the nice brother who is a good listener and gets along really well with kids. And I guess Peach, Apple, and Tangerine would be my sisters -- and they all have their own endearing quirks.

In addition, we've got these two military guys who have basically been assigned to babysit us while we're on this island, which means they're with us everywhere and live in the same suite as us. These two guys are badass. Grapefruit wears glasses and has a tattoo on his chest (we kept chanting "Show us, show us!" and so he finally obliged); Lemon is the really good-looking one who has a pierced left ear. Pretty much all four of us girls think he's attractive... but unfortunately, he's eight years older than us. Which is really too bad, because one night, when we were discussing what guys want in a girl and started interrogating Lemon, he responded, "I care about inner beauty" -- quite unlike Banana, who was rattling off ridiculous things like "I like to be hit."

Have I been sounding really boy crazy recently? I'm sorry. But here's the thing: I made a promise to myself that this summer would be an experiment. I want to come out of my shell. I don't want to be the introvert who keeps waiting forever anymore. This is the first dip into the water before I leap into college this autumn.

If there was anything good that came out of the something that was once everything, it was this choice.

But enough of this melodrama.

Earlier, I was out on the basketball courts with Pear, when he asked me if I was a "child lover." He meant that in a good way, because I socialize with my students a lot. During lunch, instead of going down to the teachers' room, I usually just hang out in the classroom with the kids. This one girl named Eva is like a miniature version of myself. She has short hair, loves playing sports, and is very playful. I don't even want to think about the possiblity that I might never see her again after next week. I get along with a lot of my other students as well. We joke with each other, some of them tell me about who has a crush on who, etc. I love hanging out with my kids.

And I love working with this group. We don't exclude each other, and on random occassions, we have these conversations that are both hilarious and deep at the same time. We all get along with each other and bicker amongst ourselves. It's like another family in itself.

In other words, I don't want to leave this place.

Snapshot 4 - Apology

Dear Readers,

This blogger humbly apologizes for failing to write on her blog. She has almost no free time, is exhausted every day, and has almost no internet access.

Here's what I've learned so far:

Teaching little kids is so fun
But, DAMN -- it is so exhausting.

One of these days, I am going to sit down and write an entire novel about what it's been like here so far. These past two weeks have been phenomenal.

On another note -- I was surprised to find that people were still reviewing EP. I wouldn't say the story is dead... it's just that I thought almost everybody had forgotten about it. Let's hope I can find some time to write in the near future.

Bored? Go watch Harry Potter 6 for me -- because as far as I know, there are no movie theaters anywhere within my vicinity.

-- Sophelia

Snapshot 3 - A Cliffhanger on Melons

There are two melons. One is Cantaloupe. The other is Honeydew. They are actually twins, even though nobody realizes it at first because they look so different. But whatever. The point of the story is that these two melons are the most gorgeous fruits on the block.

Unfortunately, yours truly and her awesome ex-roommates will no longer be able to gaze longingly at the beautiful melons after tomorrow morning, for everyone will be departing on their separate ways to their assigned schools to teach English for the next two weeks. By the way, yours truly has not been able to write for over a week because of poor internet and hectic schedules -- so be thankful that she is going to get four hours of sleep just so she can write about this on her blog.

For awhile, Sophelia roomed three other girls. They became so close that they gave each other nicknames and corresponding animals, which Sophelia will use here to continue the tradition of using code names. They are as follows:

Lydi-O (lemur) -- The tallest, third-oldest, and most naive and childlike one of the bunch

Jane (duck) -- The second-oldest, the one who everyone thinks is the oldest, the mature one

Eleven (fish or lizard) -- The youngest, the blunt and weird one

More about the Fab Four another day, for this post is about the melons. Cantaloupe is the taller twin, with tanned skin and pretty eyes. Honeydew is the paler, shy/antisocial twin with a styled haircut and large eyes. It's like something out of a manga story right? Well, yours truly is not making this up.

I am exhausted and have abruptly decided to continue telling this story tomorrow. But feel free to use your imagination and decide where I'm going with this story -- until the next time my Internet is working and I am not dead tired.

Snapshot 2 - Beauty

I took studio pictures today. I wore three outfits -- a yellow gown, a red mini-dress, and a Gothic Lolita blouse and skirt; and afterwards, my relatives took me around the city. Here are the lessons of the day:

1. I prefer dark make-up. While the girl was putting on my make-up, I was so tempted to just grab the eyeliner and black eyeshadow and give myself raccoon eyes.
2. I look REALLY strange with long hair. I refused to let the make-up/hair stylist add any of extra hair to my very short hair for the first dress, but as I was changing for the second dress, the seamstress girl convinced me to try it out. The interesting thing is, my aunt -- who says I look completely different now because of my short hair -- says I looked much more familiar to her when I had long hair. But as for me, I couldn't even recognize myself in the mirror. I was actually considering growing my hair out a few months ago -- but today's experience has effectively convinced me that I will continue chopping my hair every month until further notice.
3. Posture is an art. The photographer was a kickass chick who really knows how to get somebody to smile a real smile. Plus, when she demonstrated the poses she wanted, I could't help but think she could have been a supermodel. Now, every time I lean against something or sit, I am ridiculously self-conscious. Do I tilt my shoulders this way, or do I jut my chin out this way so I don't look like I have a double chin? You see, this is the kind of useful thing they should teach you in school that everyone needs to know.
   
4. Working in a studio would be awesome. Dressing someone up; fixing up their make-up and hair; picking out accessories from a massive sparkling shelf of tiaras, hats, and jewelry; designing the photo backdrops and settings; taking fashion photography; photoshopping and editing the pictures -- Rogue, this sounds like your type of job.
   
5. There is much eyecandy to be seen here. Instead of Guitar Hero, a similar game that's popular here is one that uses a drum set instead. Unlike the Rock Band/Guitar Hero IV drum set, this one is pretty much a real drum set -- and so when someone is playing it in the arcade, you actually hear the cymbals and drums. I didn't get to play and make a fool out of myself -- because there were a group of guys crowded around the game challenging each other at the expert level. Yeah, I didn't really see their faces because they were all facing the screen, but their clothing tastes were impeccble, their hair was styled punkish but not emo, and they were tall. There needs to be some sort of diffusion so that more of these kind of people end up where I live... or actually, at Duke.
   

And now I will attempt to sleep. Key word: attempt. I would be waking up in California right about now.

Snapshot 1 - Airplanes

I still have not made up my mind if I will attempt to blog every day like I attempted last year at Stanford. I doubt I will run into any Banana Men again, but weirdos exist in all parts of the world. I will instead title these posts "Snapshot #" if anything interesting occurs.

I abhor plane rides. Gov. J, who accompanied me to the airport yesterday, confided that her goal in life is to be able to afford first class seats on all future airplane rides. Although I doubt my desire for comfort will ever trump my frugal instincts, I do wish I could actually sleep lying down rather than upright like a log, afraid of leaning onto either the old man to my left or the stuffy woman on my right. I ended up pulling my tray down and sticking a pillow onto the tray. It looks like sleeping on my desk in AP Stats actually trained me for something useful.

A tall, Latino man sat by the window in the row ahead of mine. With a sidelong glance, I could see that he was reading a yellow notepad, upon which someone had written some sort of letter or confession. I know that morally, it was inappropriate to pry, but I was too curious not to read over his shoulder. It appeared to be a girl's handwriting -- not because it was loopy and flowery, but because of the story it told. The girl described herself as a Cinderella, who suffered from her stepmother's emotional abuse and her father's disconnect from her life. I ended up not reading much -- my eyesight is good, but not to the point where I can read every word on a notepad a good yard away. But it's interesting to think about how I can be so interested in a stranger's story, even when I have no idea what the person looks like or where he/she is from.

Maybe some people think it's strange to follow a person's personal blog when you don't even know the person. Personally, I can see the appeal. I like drama and conflict -- as long as I'm detached from the storm.

Speaking of storms, HOLY MOTHER WHY IS IT SO HUMID HERE??