The Motherland

I have had a spectacular week. So many things have happened, so many little stories could be told, so much awesome has occured, that I won't even try to blog about much of it. I do have one story from today, however, that puncuates just one reason that I love this place.

In Corning, New York, my current place of residence with my aunt and uncle, there is a fountain. This is not your avergae, everyday, ordinary fountain, oh no- this is an interactive fountain. Picture the theme song from Friends with swimsuits and without the clapping every time(clapclapclapclap!). It's basically a metal cylinder about 4 feet high, shooting water up 15 feet high, and space around it for merriment, dancing to The Rembrandts, or, in some cases, bathing. Yes indeed, right as Uncle David, my 3 cousins and I were about to leave, a man walked up, swimsuit on, and stuck his arm up right over the upward-flowing water. Sure enough, he then washed the other armpit, plugged his nose to wash his face, and rolled around a bit in the standing water. 5 minutes later, we saw him emerge from behind a group of bushes with a different colored pair of shorts on.

Later that day, we saw a guy wielding some kind of arm-attached staff, practicing in an empty lot against thin air. He was winning. Earlier, a kid peed on the wall close to the fountain, overlooking a scenic river. What I love about this is that this is not considered normal. Any one of these activities have been frequently overlooked by me and many (especially the public urinaton,) yet here they constitute an anecdote. I missed home. It's good to be back.


-Will



"Shower makes noise."

Year In Review

I write you from terminal E42 in Charles DeGaul Airport in Paris, on my way home for the summer. On the first flight, and indian guy 2 seats next to me took all 3 of the rows' assigned pillows. A lady just announced that "any luggage left behind will be destroyed by the police" in broken English. But I'm not going to talk about this current trip; there'll be lots of time for that. I am, however, going to look back on the one I just ended- the year long... let's say "experience" in Dakar, Senegal.

I'm not going to lie- it's been a long year. Filled with new faces, disappointments, and power outages, my first year in Dakar, and more importantly at Dakar Academy, has been, well, pretty much what I expected. I knew there would be culture shock in the new country (there always is,) and I like to think I had a pretty shrewd guess that there would be even more in the new school. In a subtle way, Dakar Academy, to me, is much more different from charter than America is from Senegal. The culture is completely different, and maybe it's a Minnesotan thing, but it took a long time to get used to. Honestly, that process is just beginning. I'm positive that in my senior year, something will happen or someone (or ones) will do something at some point that I completely will not understand. The incident with the rat, which I mentioned earlier this year, when someone called "rat!" and every other dude simultaneously jumped up, heaviest object within arm length in hand, and chased it. These things just don't cross my mind. By the way, that rat was like 1 1/2 feet from nose to butt.

Yet therein lies the problem. All this past year, especially during first semester, I've tried to define DA as a group, as a school, as some kind of entity stamping out public displays of affection and anyone who wasn't constantly happy. To an extent, I do think this is entirely the case, with many members of the school teaming up and informing the authorities if they catch any 2 people staring into each others' eyes for too long. The main problem, though, is that I was paying attention to the forest and not the trees. DA is a group of people more than a school, and I don't mean that in a "we're one big family here" kind of way. I'm talking about the DA I was talking about. If there's a whole bunch of people who drive me up the wall and about 5 who dont, it's not fair of me to cast the 5 in a bad light because of their bland, annoying classmates. It's not fair to do that to anyone, really. Except freshman. They probably deserve it.

-Will



"Like a band of gypsies we go down the highway. We're the best of friends, insisting that the world keep turning our way, and our way, is on the road again."

The Importance of BroHood

No. Not brotherhood. That's the bad guys in X-Men. I'm here to talk to you about broHood, which is a group of high-fiving, chest-bumping men. Proud to fit the stereotype, and generally inseparable. Wayne and Garth. Seth and Evan. Frodo and Sam. Will and Tim. Danny and Rusty. Jake and Elwood. Mario and Luigi, for heaven's sakes. While often under-appreciated, broHoods are the basis of our society. If the world were based on the relationships girls have with each other, trust me, we would be in a much worse place.

It's a simpler sort of thing. There's not any smoke and mirrors, and if we're tired, we say we're tired. If we're annoyed, we say we're annoyed. If there's a dispute, broHoods have the ability to look past it, move on, not carry grudges. There's no pressure to entertain a bro, because if you stop keeping them constantly occupied with something interesting to do or talk about, they'll stick around. Bros don't ditch to find more interesting bros. That's just not how it works. Belonging to a broHood is even better than belonging to the Isabella's Subs frequent buyer club, and I'm not just saying that.

The reason is say this is twofold. One is obvious, I'll be back home in less than 2 weeks (it's crazy, I know,) and will finally be reunited with my bro. Like, the bro. The purest form of broHood the world has ever seen. And I cannot wait. It's been a long year, and having someone I know I can trust with anything will probably be one of, if not my absolute favorite parts of the trip. It's something I knew I wouldn't have here, and it's something that takes a long time (and the right dude) to develop. But the 2nd reason is less... good. I recently learned my main dude over here, John, is graduating after his junior year, negating an entire year of broHood. This, coupled with previous knowledge that he would be in America for the 1st semester of nextyear has me less than ecstatic for the 2nd half of high school. He's a gamer, he's funny, and he's leaving. My other dude friends are awesome, but they're in the dorm, and that's just not the same. They know that. John was gone for one week with dingy fever, and that was weird enough.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm bummed. Without thinking of this summer, and just next school year, it looks more, well, bleak. I can count on John to not ditch, and even the dorm guys have their...pursuits. I just naively assumed that after this past year, I'd be mostly done with big sad goodbyes, which will never be the case. There will always be people coming and going, especially in a missionary school environment, and that's just something I'm going to have to get used to. I just really wish I didn't.


-Will



"You smell like a bodybuilder."

I'm No Superman

This past week marked the finale of one of my most beloved TV shows: Scrubs. So I'm going to take this time to reflect on it, whether you like it or not.

I have to give credit to my main man Tim for introducing the show to me, pretty late in it's lifetime. The episode "My Musical" caught his attention, and after getting a strong recommendation, I decided to go ahead and pay the 2 bucks on iTunes to give it a look. What I saw, I must say, was quite unlike any show I'd seen before. Of course, not every episode is in musical form, but the format of that particular episode grabbed the attention of an impatient 13-year-old that an ordinary episode might not have been able to do.

This isn't to say, however, that the normal format of an episode is dull. Every episode I've seen, I've loved, and whether it's the music at the end, JD's awesome daydreams, or the sometimes cheesy way that every episode wraps up, tying various plots together with one overarching moral, they usually have me smiling at the end. Because, what started off as a parody of the multitude of dramas in hospitals took off into a genre of it's own, different from most TV shows on now. all the characters are ridiculous and nigh-unbelieveable, except for the experiences they have. Take JD and the Janitor and put them anywhere else but a hospital and that relationship is impossible, but on TV, in such a dreary environment (if you don't mind me saying,) you can almost believe that a support staff would hold a vendetta against a doctor. Even for something as simple as a penny on the first day of work.

I have to say, though, I started watching at a bad time. Season 7, supposedly the last, began when the writer's strike was at it's strikiest, and lasted just a little more than 10 episodes. While this was a great time to catch up on the 6 seasons I had missed, Season 7 lacked a certain quality that the others had. It was funny, sure, but at times too much so, and while I enjoyed watching Turk and JD throw water balloons at the annoying interns, and Elliot's bizarre relationship with Keith, it seemed out of place. The show, while always a comedy, wasn't taking itself seriously enough. Still a decent portion of TV, but season 7's downfall's gave way into season 8's perfection.
The turnaround was evident from the first 2 episodes last year. Focusing Dr. Cox's troubles with his new position, and the hospital bromance duo talking to a terminal patient in his final hours, it was clear that the show would go out with a bang, and not just another half-decent season before puttering out. The season's had sad moments, crazy ones, touching ones, hilarious ones, and it's fair share of daydreams, but most of all, it was Scrubs again. People say that finales are often a letdown, yet I had high hopes for Scrubs, and, as always, it did not let me down. I'm just manly enough to admit that the end had me sniffling, and not just because I have a cold.

Scrubs has little to no followers at DA and not a ton at QHS (high five, Erin.) Of course, here, things like that are often rated by their inappropriate content, not their quality level, but that's beside the point. The point is, whether you liked it or not, is that it's over. It went out stronger than most, and even its harshest critics can't say no to the fact that it brought something new and fresh to the table. Goodbye Scrubs, and thanks for everything.

-Will


"I can't do this all on my own, no I know; I'm no superman."

Seussical the Musical

Let me tell you a story of my recent free time,
but to make it more fun I will tell it in rhyme.
In the spirit of the play, and like Dr. Seuss
I'll give it a shot. Don't you snicker. Moose.

It all started out in mid-late December,
When the auditions were held, I still can't remember
But as I recall, I showed up and acted
for the part of the general, and the teacher reacted
better than expected, for I got the part
of the Mayor of Who, which gave me a start.

'Twas a bigger role than expected, yes,
yet not such as big as Horton, I guess
But I loved it and looked forward to begin
and that's about where thing's gave right on in.

It had been a while since I had last sung,
and I didn't think I'd be perfect, but it stung
When I realized how much I had since then forgotten
basic musical terms, plus my voice sounded rotten

I was "married" to someone else in the BGC,
and was the "father" of her brother, which was strange to me.
The first couple weeks, surrounded by singers,
were hard and embarrassing, and put me through the ringer
yet after the start, I began to have fun
with the other performers, including my "son"

I became more comfortable with each passing day,
so, by the time we had to put on the play,
I knew all my lines, I could sing all my songs,
and all of the cast members just got along
Which made it much better, and easy to do
I could be both happy and Mayor of who

On the opening night, I forgot 'bout my mic
I fussed with it some, yet it was on mute
For most of Act 1, so the point was moot

Come Saturday night, we did much much better,
still, I kicked part of the set, almost forgot a letter
Then yesterday night, It really came together,
even though I was feeling quite under the weather

Tonight was alright, overall very good,
but I didn't do well, didn't think I would
My throat was sore, my nose was runny,
even more than last night's, but still, it was funny
My lines were alright, yet my singing was off,
I still had my cold, plus a pretty bad cough

The whole thing was tiring, yet worth all the work
And the suit that I wore was but just one perk
But it was a blast, I had fun on Who,
Yet it's all over now. And the Mayor's? We're through.

-Will



"When the news is all bad,
when you're sour and blue,
when you start to get sad, you should do what I do:
tell yourself how lucky you are!"

School-Approved Mud Wrestling

Now, as far as school sanctioned events at DA, I have pretty low expectations. Not to say they were through the roof anywhere else, or that I haven't enjoyed previous events, but it's usually not the event itself that is the primary fun factor. Tonight, however, had me surprised, to say the least.

Late last week, a large brown piece of paper, reading "Grimy Slimy Sludge Night," appeared on the school bulletin board. Against my baser instincts, I let a friend from school sign me up. I thought to myself "You know? I could use some more grimy and slimy sludge in my life." So tonight, at 7:30, I showed up with a white t-shirt, jeans, and no belt (bad idea) at DA and was soon pronounced member of team "Stinky." At least I wasn't on "Vile," right?

The first activity was my 2nd least favorite, dubbed the egg blow. As appealing as that name was, I was reluctant to participate, but decided to take the plunge. With the aid of a raw egg and a bendy white tube, the task was to blow the egg into the opposing person's face, while they try the same to you. Unfortunately, all the egg-blowing exercises I've been training with at home were to no avail, and I got half a raw egg in the back of my throat. I don't even like cooked eggs. But, with the promise of mud-wrestling, I rinsed, spat, and trudged on.

Next had to be my favorite game of the evening. The student senate had constructed a 10' by 20' patch of pure mud at the back of the soccer field, with a tire in the middle. I assure you, it was tempting to not jump in right then and there, but I got my chance. Playing tug of war with another team, we won the majority of the rounds and moved onto find-the-fish. A variation on that game where each person on both teams is assigned a number and a number is called, then each with the a number from each team runs in and gets something and brings it back over their line (why no, there is not a more eloquent way to say that,) except with a raw fish. About halfway through, the head came off, which lead to one of the more bizarre conversations I've heard in a long time. Since one team got the head and one team got the body, the argument was what piece was better. The brain, or the majority of the body? It's a judgment call, but I'll let you decide.

Then came the next batch of trials. First off, the Poo....something. Chute, trench, pool, kazoo, I forget, but it was basically a military crawl, under benches, through a crevasse of a the most appalling mixture of matter I've ever crawled through. I don't know any specifics (not that I asked,) but olives, spaghetti, milk, and vinegar were mentioned, and multiple diapers were visible- for effect, I suppose. The stench of it will haunt me until the end of my days, and the entire team had to crawl through the 15 foot long abomination- twice. Never thought I'd roll around in a mud pit to cleanse myself. After that was the slip and slide (no explanation needed,) an egg throw, and a shot of some gross cup of something, we played a banana game. Sitting and using our feet, each team member passed a slightly-peeled banana down the line with their feet, and the last person had to peel one side with their muddy feet, then peel the rest and eat half of it. I must say, my team did a great job, and the banana was surprisingly tasty.

The finale took place back at the mud pit, with a line for each team, a place to get mud, and a bucket at the end of each team's lane. We nearly filled ours, but fell short and came in 2nd out of 8 overall. Not bad, I'd say. Walking home, barefoot, and plastered with mud, though, had to be one of the nights plentiful highlights.

And this is after 5 minutes of hosing down. At least a minute and a half were devoted to being able to read the letters. Yes, this was originally a white shirt.

All in all, a pretty awesome night.


-Will



"That's the second biggest slingshot I've ever seen, but I guess it'll have to do."

Birthday

It seems like, almost every gift-giving occasion, I ask for something preposterous. Not necessarily monetarily preposterous (but usually it is,) but always either impossible to find, or impossible to figure out, or whatever. The Wii, which my mom camped out at Target all night to get. The little white boxes have just now, two years later, started to be easy to find. Guitar Hero III, after looking for months was found by not only my mom and dad, by my grandparents as well. Then again, here in Africa, with the next iteration of Guitar Hero. This time, though, not only with a guitar, but with a drum set, a mic, and a guitar (all fake, of course.) So, they call some random pastor of a church in Colorado, have him pick it up miles away at the only store that has it, have him give it to the previous resident of our house, who was coming back. It had gotten to the point that I wondered what the limit was.

So, again, I pushed for something seemingly impossible. Tickets to the states for the summer. In every way, a ridiculous proposition. Where to stay, when to go, how to get there, the cost of airline tickets. All factors preventing me from my dream trip. Honestly, if I could go to anywhere in the world for the summer, and this might seem stupid, but I would choose Franklin, Massachusetts. And I am.

I opened my present (a bit early) and there it was. Flight schedules to and from Logan airport. In a way, I don't even think it's hit me. I mean, I know I'm going home for the summer, but it still seems like a dream. In just a few short months, I'll be in a place with green grass, root beer, central air conditioning, hardly any power outages, and fast food. Glorious, glorious fast food. I think it won't ever really hit me, actually, until about 2 days after I get back. So, Mom and Dad, I'd like to give you a both late and in-advance thank you. This one tops even Guitar Hero.

-Will


"If you're sweating while you're bowling, you're out of shape. And if you're out of shape and you're bowling, you're probably a professional bowler."