From snozberries to the USMLE

The past four days have been insane!

I spent Friday night with my sis Jamie in my favorite city within the continental United States, Athens. It was my first sleepover (sans males) in a looooooooooong time. I think the event can be summed up accurately with one word.

Snozberries.

You'd have to visit The Winery in downtown Athens to fully understand what I'm talking about. The most notable player of the event was the insanely persistent overweight Asian man who, after being told twice that we (none of us) were interested in dancing with him, proceeded to come back in an almost Night at The Roxbury style, not once, but two more times. At first I was really polite, just dancing with the girls, "not interested, thank you" but later it started getting ridiculous and became more like, "NOT INTERESTED!!!!!". Like a goldfish who runs into the side of the glass bowl, forgets five seconds later, and runs into it again. Maybe he thought I was drunk, and would forget that I'd said no four times before.

Then, on Sunday, Peter and I loaded up the car and headed down to the worst smelling city I've ever been in, Augusta. Paper mills...blech. It smells so bad, and it's like once the smell is in your nose you can't get it out. We drove a good bit out of our way to find a hotel that was outside the stink cloud that engulfs most of the city. But the smell is beside the point... the whole point of the trip was (drum roll, please) Peter's United States Medical Licencing Exam. That's right folks- it's finally over. I've been praying like crazy that he gets a good score on this. His entire career is dependant on this one exam... seriously. We should know in a couple weeks how he did... till then it's just pins and needles and really focused prayer. It's rare that I ask for particular things in prayer... it's usually just praise, guidance, blessings, safety, etc., but these days it's specific and focused, and even more constant than usual. Peter has worked so hard- the past few years have been extremely difficult for him. I really want this to work out for him.

seriously serious

I woke up bright and early this morning so I could go to the house where my dad's parents used to live and helped clean up the blackberry brambles that had taken over the back yard. I haven't been there in years. After my grandma died it was hard to go there. You could fill it up with people, but without her it always seemed kind of empty. My Grandpa rented the property, after he moved out and remarried, but the renters were horrible- they actually tried to bury their garbage in the backyard instead of hauling it to the dump. among other things. So weird.

Anyhow, after the work was done I wanted to take a look around the place I had spent so much of my childhood.

It was hard to believe that it was the same place. Aside from all the damage the renters had done, everything was still in the same position. I remembered weekends sleeping in the living room in a sleeping bag next to my cousin and sister, but how did we fit? The space seems so small now. The windows were curtainless but didn't let in the sunlight that used to fill the living room. Even though we're constantly changing I think we expect things we leave behind to stay the same. I think today was just the culmination and realization of a feeling I've had ever since I got back- it's true- you can NOT go home again. The second you leave it's no longer home. When I think about the journey between where I was in the place that I was remembering and where I am now, the road seems incalculably long. I guess it's unfair for me to expect things to remain constant, when I myself have changed in every way.

A couple weeks ago I was contemplating the choices which brought me to where I am. It's like we create our own butterfly effect within our lives; decisions I made in high school that seemed fairly minute and unimportant turned out to have a life-altering effect, whereas things I thought would be life or death turned out to be not so important. For example I can look back now and see that a football game in 7th grade has had much more of an impact on my current life than my S.A.T. score ever did.

I guess what I'm trying to take from all this is that I ought to live more intentionally. It's impossible to say what small thing could determine tremendous future events, so it's important to take every decision seriously, even small ones.

Anyhoo, after I spent the morning wrestling blackberries and strolling down memory lane I went to the library and checked out some more books. I want to learn more about business, so I am going to take the next few weeks to read every book I can get my hands on. I've always found that when it came down to it, I could teach myself things just as easily as I could learn them in a classroom. First read: I picked Small Business for Dummies, because you have to start somewhere, so why not start with "small business... and I'm a dummy :)

recycle.able.

I was going through some of my old junk in my mom's basement the other day, and I came across an old box of clothes from my childhood that I always loved too much to throw out, but no one NO ONE would ever wear, so I've decided I need to craft some softish things. I went to the library and got a couple books of ideas. I haven't sewn in a while so I thought it would be good to have a look at some basic patterns before I dive in to my pile of fabric with some scissors. I like some of the basic patterns, but I'll have to crazy them up some.

Most of all, I like the thought of giving new life to loved things. It's like saying, "welcome back pink cardigan I ripped a hole in climbing a tree. Nice to see you purple flower print dress with ginormously puffy sleeves. I can't wait to see what you'll become."

He thinks his tractor is sexy.

I know part of it is because I've been "on island time" for the past few years, (meaning that nothing ever seems urgent, and deadlines are always vague or nonexistent) but the past month has seemed absolutely breakneck. I foolishly signed up for 3 maymester clases, meaning 9 hours of class monday through friday with 6 or 7hours of homework on top of that. Insane... especially for a non-academic femme like me, but somehow I managed to cross the semester finish line with a 92, 94, and 87. So woot for school!
A little less woot for art. Not much of it has been made this month. Even less of it has been sold :(
After my whirlwind of education I spent a few days at my Grandma's House in Dawsonville Georgia- a totally backwoods backwards place where many of the residents seem to be unsure of whether the civil war ended and if so, who won. I love it though. I also love helping out with Vacation Bible School at the church I grew up in. When I wasn't doing Vacation Bible School, I painted her house to make it easier to sell. (Nothing fun, just a warm neutral almost yellow color... blah)> I think it's already starting to work though, because while I was still there with brushes and rollers loitering all over the place a guy stopped by. I had such a hard time keeping a straight face talking to this guy. He was the kind of person you really only ever meet in places like Dawsonville or maybe the backwoods of Canada idk. Anyway, he was like, "I got me a house in Roswell, but now they got these codes and they come and say I can't keep my tractor on my lawn no more, so I got to find me a house somewheres folks stay out of mine and my tractors' business." He asked if the rotting trailor on the edge of the property was included in the price and I was like, "it sure is!" and he was so psyched. He said it was "the perfect place to store all of my dead momma's stuff" I told him, "be careful- it's full of mice and sometimes snakes" (and various oddities that the childhood version of myself left behind). But he just pulled his pants up to his chest and trekked right in. He spent hours out in the hot mid day sun wandering around the property, so we think he's pretty interested. He's coming back next week with his son to get his opinion, so it may be him who really decides if he buys it or not.
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ATTENTION FRIENDS IN NORTH GA:

Hi guys! Thanks for your overwhelming support with the paintings! I just want to let everyone know that if you are NOT an etsy member or an e-bay buyer, but still want to buy a painting (even if you're not in north GA) please just shoot me an e-mail or leave me a comment about which painting you're interested in, and I'll get back to you later that day.

If you ARE in north GA please please please send me an e-mail about which painting you are interested in, instead of buying through etsy, so I can deliver and accept payment in person. This will save YOU the shipping cost, and me the seller's fee.

Well, I'm off to make a sandwich, then to make some more art! Check the shop for another update tonight! loveaboveall.etsy.com

thisisonlytemporarythisisonlytemporarythisisonlytemporary

I hope all of you remembered mother's day yesterday! My mom got some flowers from my sister, and a plant from me (which I watered today, and am planning on planting tomorrow), and a cute new french tuille apron I lovingly made with my own hands from my own design. I am thinking of making some more to put in my etsy shop (loveaboveall.etsy.com). At the very least I'm definitely going to be making one for myself to protect my clothes from the constant paint stains that besmirch half my wardrobe. I always say I'm going to be super neat and not get a drop anywhere but the canvas, then next thing I know I darting for the pre-treater in the laundry room and trying to pick dried paint out of my hair. It's a testament to the high quality of the paint I use how difficult it is to get out of my hair! It won't wash out with just shampoo and conditioner. I have to single out the stricken hairs and basically peel the paint off.

I finished my first painting since arriving in the states. Just when I was starting to think the creative spark had left me for good, my brush started whipping around and voila, a cute new critter to add to the Blossom Creek Zoo (what I call my collection of animal paintings). I'll be putting him in my etsy shop loveaboveall.etsy.com later in the day.

I'm taking a couple Maymester (3 week long) classes. They start Wednesday, and I really couldn't be more excited about it! I've waited much too long to go back to school. Jamie's break ended today. I regret not getting to spend more time with her. The day in Athens was probably the best day I've spent in the US since we came back. I don't many people who live here anymore, but even if I had my pick of folks to hang out with I'd pick Jamie- she's the best! There are a few people who I fully intend to catch up with this Summer. I guess I'm kind of the event planner in my marriage, but I've been in such a funk I haven't wanted to go anywhere or see anyone.

Things have kind of plateaued around here. I've got a routine. I keep to myself. I keep my head down and try not to be too disrespectful. My mantra is "this is only temporary".

The City Music Led Me To

Since I'm only here less than a season I'm not trying too terribly hard to get a "real" job because as soon as I finished training it would be time for me to move on, but I need some income so I decided to sell off some of my stuff. I put some things on e-bay, but not all of it sold. I just started an Etsy store, but I haven't put much in it yet. I'm planning on having all my paintings listed by the end of the week. Please PLEASE stop by and have a look:

loveaboveall.etsy.com

I am really hopeful about this venture. If this works out I'll be using Etsy as my outlet from now on. Pray pray pray my art sells. I love making it, but I can't justify the time and money I put into it if there's no turnaround.

Jamie and I spent a great day in Athens a couple days ago (dampened only by the fact that there was a pube in my lunch at Doc Chey's House of Noodles). I couldn't believe she's lived there for so long and had never been to the wonderful shops downtown. Many Christmas presents I've bought either came from Helix or Junkman's Daughter's Brother. It was so much fun to wander around the town I discovered one day by accident one day when I'd just gotten my liscence: One day after work (it was a really short shift so it was only 10:30am or so) I was driving home listening to the radio, but a song came on that I really liked so I drove past my street planning to loop back once the song ended, but then a song I'd never heard came on, but the new song was so beautiful I decided I'd keep driving until it ended, I was driving straight, but in a direction I'd never taken before, on a road I'd never driven down, and I came to this little town that looked like it was frozen in time- a town so small the main road swerves in order to prevent a tree from being cut down. I drove slowly looking around at this tiny little enchanting town until I came to the end of it, and I had to decide whether to turn back or keep going. Being a good teenage daughter I called my mom and asked if it was okay to go for a drive- keep in mind gas was waaaaay cheaper then- and mom didn't mind, so I decided to press onward, further south into Georgia, wondering what delightful place I'd find next. The radio played good song after good song, and even though the only cool thing I passed for a long time was a giant flea market I kept driving. Suddenly the road got skinnier and the open roadside began filling with buildings. Next thing I know I'm driving through a town- a very busy town. Signs for UGA started showing up and I realized I must be in Athens! I pulled into a parking deck, and pulled on a tee from my back seat so I didn't look like I'd just got off work at the retirement home. I spent all day wandering around downtown Athens, making sure not to miss a single art gallery or music shop, and picking up every free zine that lined the doorways until I'd spent all the money I had in my pockets and could hold no more papers in my purse. Once it started to get a little dark I started the drive home exhausted from so much walking. One by one I read all the articles and felt so grown-up having acquired many new words and terms to add to my vocabulary. I cut out all the calendar of events, and made plans to return, but once my parents found out that my little drive had taken me to a college town I wasn't allowed to go back without a friend... and I didn't really have any... so I didn't go back... for a long time.

blah ga

I can't believe it hasn't even been two weeks since I left St Maarten. I guess when every day is worse than the day before time goes by slowly. Every time I think I've found a solution or a remedy that would make things better theres always a roadblock.

Honestly, I expected the poo to hit the fan sooner or later, but I guess it just came sooner than I thought. Actually, it really couldn't have happened any sooner than it did- we hadn't even gotten our bags up the stairs when she started it all. Then Peter was told I started it- a lie- so he blames me for this whole situation. I honestly don't understand- the next day I opened up and poured out my heart to her, but the only thing I got back was a heaping spoonful of her homespun self-martyrdom. We're only going to be here for a few weeks, so I guess I should just put my head down and deal with it.

I've been painting, but nothing has been finished because they're so bad I keep painting black over them and starting again. I guess I'm just lacking in inspiration.

I went to the church I used to go to when I lived here a few years ago, but no one I knew was there, and the sermon was kind of weird. The big sanctuary was barely 1/4 full. I saw an old friend whose family was one of the anchors of the church, at the grocery store. I asked what happened- why his family and all the other families who'd been there forever were gone, and he said the pastor had really gone away from his old way of preaching and that most of the people who'd been with the church from the beginning had left because they didn't like how the preacher wanted to run it now. I don't think I'll be going back there- the atmosphere was just kind of dead. It didn't feel like God was present, but maybe I'm just kind of spiritually spoiled. I never feel closer to God than when I'm standing next to the ocean. To me the ocean always seems like a metaphor for God- powerful, life taking, life giving, enigmatic, infinite, encompassing, beautiful and scary. It always felt like God was present. I miss the constant sound of waves in my apartment more than anything else about living so close to the beach.

I miss Radar, too. Since the first day we brought him home he's been under my feet. He followed me around the apartment like a shadow. I can't wait until I can get him back. I kind of think that it's because I showed how much I love him that Iris decided I definitely couldn't have him. I offered every compromise and was willing to bend backwards and then some to meet her more than halfway, but she doesn't give an inch when she doesn't have to.

She let Peter keep Beau. I don't really care about him- I tried to give him away to Dr Gray.

I've never been more alone. Separated from the only place where I've ever felt truly at home, the only place I've ever really fit in; separated from the sense of purpose I had in my community; separated from my friends, my pet, my inspiration. I feel separated from God and separated from my self. I'm on my own in unfriendly territory.

last night in paradise

I can't believe it's my last night here in St Maarten. It's been an amazing two years. I can't say life here isn't without it's challenges... okay, a LOT of challenges, but I've done so many things I would have never done. I've made friends with people from ever corner of the globe. I've learned so much about life and myself here. There are so many things I am going to miss... not just my apartment and the beach, but the kids I've worked with (especially the ones that live near me that I see almost every day), my church (teaching sunday school) the constant inspiration the beautiful Caribbean brings to my art every day but more than anything I'll miss my friends. I've met so many wonderful people here who I've seen come and go off the island, but it's the galpals I'm leaving on the island I wish I could take with me... crazy pilot chicks... catching 4 different buses to get to the french side... shopping like the girliest... hiking like the bravest... and smores... lots and lots of smores.

Golden Eagle

We did Golden Eagle cruise a while back, but I never got around to blogging about it, but since it's one of the more interesting things we've done here I thought I'd take a sec to post about it

Golden Eagle Cruise summer 2007 When we first moved here there were a couple attractions that really caught my eye. Two years later there are still some that haven't, and probably never will, be checked off that list. However I am super glad that after more than a year here we finally got around to taking the Friday Farewell Cruise. The cruise goes around the island, to Tintemarre, then back, with several snorkeling stops, at some of the Caribbean's most colorful underwater spots. Lunch was a three course affair at one of my favorite restaurants on the island, Calmous Cafe. This is probably the most fun thing Peter and I have done since we moved here. Also, a most rare event occured- Peter and I made some friends with whom we are strangely similar. In fact their dorki/artsi/techni/trivia ness rivaled our own like few people can, much less on a dynamic as a couple. (Peter and I are so different, people usually like one of us and not the other, or as a couple one of us can't stand one of them.) For dinner we went to The Greenhouse in Philipsburg with our new friends. If I'm ever in Michigan, I'll definitely have to look them up.

One of the guys on the cruise dropped a line off the back of the boat and ended up pulling in a few tuna fish.

If my friends hiked into a volcano... I would too.

A lot of times when I want to do something I'll kind of look into it, talk about it some, but then never really get out there and do it, but my St Maarten BFF Eleya is just the opposite. When she says, "I'm going to go to Puerto Rico to go to Wal-Mart" you can bet she'll be on a plane there by the week-end.

So the other day we were all eating dinner and Eleya and Stacy were like, "Hey, lets go to Statia this weekend! You in?". An 8 hour hike up and into an ancient volcano? Wouldn't miss it! So early Friday morning I found myself running- literally running in my new hiking boots- alongside Eleya to the airport so we could hop on the tiny plane that was headed to Statia. It was the smallest aircraft I've ever been in. Seriously, I've been in buses bigger than this thing. (When I get my camera software in working order you can expect a vid of the exhilerating approach and landing on the little island.)

We stayed in a nice little hotel that was really just a house with a few additional bedrooms built on the back. The hike was AMAZING! It was a fairly technical hike, with a good bit of bouldering along the Mazinga trail. We got up at daybreak to get an early jump on the thing, and got back down off the volcano just as the sun set. The scariest thing to me was the snakes. Indiana Jones would have hated it. There were snakes EVERYWHERE. I lost count after two dozen. They were all the same kind of snakes- non-poisonous red belly racers. Even though you know they're not poisonous they're still terrifying because some of them are HUGE, and they're not just on the ground. I reached out my hand to grab a tree to help pull me up a steep rock wall, and a giant snake hung down off the branch right in front of my face. If my friends hadn't of been there, I probably would've jumped off the mountain.

un fathom able

I'm so bummed because one of my favorite restaurants has closed down. Fathom's had the best fish and chips anywhere on the island, but for the past month their doors have been locked. I had hoped they were just taking an ever so European month long break, but now I've been told they actually ARE closed for good. We had so many good times there, it's sad to know I can never eat there again. Then again, now that I think about it, it's only a couple months until I move, then there will be lots of places I won't be visiting again. :( A pic from last year playing hooks at Fathoms with our now off-island friends Mark and Sharon, and their adorable daughter Faith.

A Couple More Collages

I've been pretty busy this week, but I still made time to make a couple more collage paintings using pages from the old Bible. My favorite one so far is on a small canvas. It's of a dove holding an olive branch. I only let the Bible show through on the wings. I thought it turned out well. I couldn't get a very good picture of the other one- it's not really so dark in real life.

I was cleaning out the cabinets at Camp Blank, and I found a really dirty old Bible that didn't have a cover, and was missing half its pages. The remaining pages were just barely held together with a few strings. I asked what I should do with it, and they said to just throw it out.... so I keep it of course! The pages are so yellowed and aged. Here are a couple paintings I made using its pages.

Trashman's Truck Wake-up Service

I woke up this morning to what sounded like a fog horn. It lasted for about 40 minutes. After a while I was fully awake, even though I hadn't planned on waking up that early, and I started to ponder what it could be: A rudimentary burglar alarm perhaps? It sounded too close to be coming from the bay. It sounded like someone was blaring a foghorn in my front yard. After the thought occurred to me that perhaps that's what a dutch fire alarm sounds like I got out of bed to investigate. Indeed, it WAS coming from my front yard, or rather the road that runs directly in front of my apartment. My millionaire neighbor had parked his Land rover halfway in the street, and the friendly neighborhood garbageman couldn't get his ginormous truck through the already tiny, but now half-filled street, and, using logic befitting his social status, had decided to just lay on the horn. I pulled on a tee and some gym shorts and headed out to see if I could assist the driver in backing out and going the other way, since, to me at least (and a handful of other residents of my building who had begun congregating on their porches to communally grumble about the unexpected wake up call) it was obvious no one was home at the Land rover's house. "Hi!" I said, "Do you need help backing up?". "No. No." replied the half bald Rastafarian, as he scratched one of the remaining dreds that hung off the back of his head. "He need be moving dis ting, I no gonna be backing up de road." "Um, I don't think anyone is home here." I said. "Oh, dey be home, I see dem movin in der." He answered so definitely I headed back to my apartment. I put on my mp3 player to drown out the continuing drone of the garbage man's horn, but even Stellar Kart turned all the way up couldn't get rid of the sound completely, so I ate some toast over the sink, watching out the window to see what would happen. Finally an embarrassed looking housekeeper emerged from the offenders' gates and shyly climbed into the gargantuan SUV. I have never seen anyone start a car so slowly. I thought for sure she must be diffusing a bomb in there until finally I saw it lurch forward a little bit, then slowly crawl forward with the scared looking housekeeper at the wheel. It continued it's steady crawl until finally it was past the house gates and out of the way. All down the street people went back into their houses. I went back to bed. The above painting is a poster I made of my favorite quote. Seriously, it's true for pretty much every decision I've ever made in my life.

Fun Camp Facts!

I haven't been as good at keeping up this blog as I have been at others, so this week I am going to try to take some time to recap all the things I skipped writing about.

Howsabout some fun facts about Camp Blank? Ya? ok!

Camp Blank was started by M. Solomons, who originally tutored the illegal kids in her neighborhood who weren't allowed to go to school, the demand became so great, she rented a building, asking a small monthly fee (bear in mind that even public schools charge monthly fees.)

Most of the books are donations from churches and sometimes schools that have upgraded their own books.

My class is actually a combination of grades 1, 2, and 3. (I split them into groups, and work with each group individually)

The kids in my class are 7, 8, and 9 years old.

Some of the kids in my class don't, nay, didn't speak any english. It's taken a LOT of work and patience, but I am so proud of how far along my two Dominican boys have come. Seriously, they went from the absolute most mischievious to the most helpful.

In my class alone, there are students from Haiti, Columbia, Africa, Dominica, Santo Domingo, Guyana, Suriname, and Jamaica.

Guyanese kids are AMAZING. They must have the best schools EVER- they are so advanced and well mannered. I have never met a Guyanese kid that wasn't completely respectful.

Camp Blank is a big building with only a couple rooms. We split up the two big rooms with book shelves and cabinets, so each class has kind of it's own space, but it can be hard to teach over the other classes' noise.

We have no electricity- but we get plenty of light through the big glassless windows... but when it rains we get wet.

There isn't any running water- if you have to use the bathroom, you first must go outside and fill up a bucket with water to flush the toilet with.

There isn't a cafeteria, the "vice principal" cooks lunch over a kerosene stove- rice and some kind of meat (mmmm... yellow rice w/ curry goat). You eat at your desk, or out in the yard.

There isn't any playground equipment for the kids to play with... but we play games with whatever we have (tag, timebomb, telephone, scavenger hunts, etc.)

Every day there begins with at least a half hour of devotion in the big room. The older kids take turns leading worship. I was kind of shocked by how many verses some of the kids could recite off the top of their head- some of them knew more than me!

The kids are fantastic. period.

I wish I could do more to help out the school than just teach. A little financial assistance would really go a loooong way. I've racked my brain for ways to come up with money, but I can't think of anything that wouldn't compromise the school's "undergroundness". It's important for us to stay under the radar- if anything should happen to make us stand out in any way, the goverment would have us (and likely the other illegal schools) shut down in a heartbeat, and hundreds of kids would be back on the street... or worse.

Saying Goodbye to Jenny and Starting a New Job

Most people don't stay on St Maarten forever, so you get kind of used to saying goodbye to people you've come to love, but there is always the comfort of being able to keep in touch; e-mails, phone calls, ridiculous postcards, and blogs remind you that they're still there. It takes the edge off the hurt of not being able to walk down the road and invite them to Ric's Place. If you say goodbye enough times to enough friends you can almost get used to it. Someone else to e-mail. Someone else to skype. You can almost forget that some goodbyes really do last. Despite knowing how sick she was, the thought honestly never occured to me that Jenny might actually die. That someone my age, who went to school with my husband, who was in my wedding, my favorite "j.a.p." , feauxjew as we teased her, wouldn't be there when I came back to Georgia. It never occured to me that the time we went to the mall, drank coffee in Starbucks and played with Meghann's beautiful little boys would be the last day I ever spent with her. Even now, it's hard to understand where in a world where hospitals are full of old people who would love to just sashay right off this planet, someone so young and full of life could die. She fought a good fight, and will probably never know how much her friendship meant to those who knew her. She will always be missed.

In other news, I've finally bit the bullet and quit the bar I was working at. Chloe is still calling me to ask if I can pick up a shift... I'm still not answering her calls.

I know it might sound crazy to trade a job where I can take home $100 in tips at the end of the night, for a job with a salary of $300 a month, but I feel so good about this. We have a good amount saved up again, so I'm honestly not too worried about the financial situation.

I've realized that the most valuable thing we have in life is time. How we spend our time IS our life, and its better to give it away for something worthwhile, than to trade it for money. If you can do something worthwhile and make a little money, well thats even better. Now that I've realized that, I plan on spending the rest of my life working to that end.

The training at The Starlight Ed Center has been really helpful. The MPOs (illegal schools ala Camp Blank) use the Abeka program, which is the same program that most Christian schools in the states use. It is so clearcut- Abeka plans out the entire day for you, that really anybody with a watch and a good attitude could do it.

I've been painting more than ever. I feel so inspired lately! Here is two paintings I finished last week: The top one is of a little mixed media fun with a sea horse and a common sea fan. I LOVED painting the sea horse. It was like I couldn't make a mistake, every stroke was exactly where I wanted it. This second one is of a toucan. I love everything about it, except for the fact that I used cheap tempera paint, and I really wish I hadn't. This is the last time I make that mistake. From now on, I'm buying good paint or no paint!

I guess I"ve just been feeling extra creative lately, because it's been spilling off my canvases and into my notebook. Heres a little poem I composed last week : I fell asleep in the bath/ and dreamt the whole world was an ocean/ and everyone was connected/ moving together in fluid motion./ Everyone who'd ever lived and everyone who / ever would mingled together unaware/ that their past and future / were presently there./ Suddenly I found myself/ tangled up in reef/ and as I lost my last breath/ friends waved goodbye with grief./ I closed my eyes as my heart stopped/ then opened them to find/ that I was quite healthy,/ but completely blind/ to everything that in my dream/ I'd learned I could see;/ Nothing but cold bath water as company./ So I observed my hands/ my wrinkled fingers and toes/ and contemplated life and time/ and how mysteriously she flows.

I Less Than Three Camp

The parents of the kids who go to Camp Blank are all undocumented or illegal, which means most of them work jobs that while being better than what they left behind in their home country, don't come close to supporting what most people would think of as a middle class lifestyle, here on the insanely expensive island of St Maarten. There is no way many of them could afford babysitters or daycare for their kids, so their only real option would be to leave their kids home alone while they go to work... or starve. Luckily, acknowledging this, Camp Blank offers a program to all the students to give them some place to go.

Unfortunately, someplace to be is pretty much all it offers. Aside from a couple of trips to the beach, (where many of the kids swam in their clothes, because as I was shocked to learn, they didn't own swimsuits... on an ISLAND) we couldn't really do much with them. The other volunteers and myself all did our best to keep them busy with organized games, but the school doesn't own any playground equipment or games. The older kids played Cricket with some half rotted boards they found, and a rock, until one of the neighbors altruisticly bought some tennis balls for them to play with. An old freezer that sat on the edge of the school yard was a stage for the little girls to put on shows then became a picnic table at lunch time.

As "camp" came to an end it began to rain for days. All the kids cooped up inside the small dark school building became restless. Fights broke out among the kids at all ages. Things were stolen or "thiefed", as they say, almost every day. I got so tired of hearing "He thief me lunch money!" "No I didn't, tell she go." that I started giving grammar lessons. I don't know if it was just because there was nothing better to do than to sit there and listen, or because I was monopolizing the chalk board, but when I started teaching... they paid attention.

I think the impression I made with my humble grammar lessons must have reached beyond the kids who listened, because a week after "camp" ended I got a call asking if I would stay on and teach elementary kids. I felt really grateful for the job offer, but hesitant, because I have absolutely no education in teaching whatsoever. Fortunately there's a program going on at Starlight Educational Center to get new folks, like me, trained and oriented. I'm so excited- I had so much fun. Even though camp was exhausting and there wasn't any monetary reward, it was so worth it.

I really feel like my prayers are being answered, and that my life is moving back in the right direction. Aside from the new job I also found a church I like. After living amidst casinos, bars and strip clubs for so long, I forgot how spiritually renewing it is to worship in a congregation and just be around like-minded folks.

I painted these sunny yellow flowers this week. I really like how they turned out, but the paper warped a little, where the color is the thickest (that's what I get for using cheap paper). If anyone knows how to correct this, please let me know.

Jelly Fish FREAK me out... stingy little water ghosts

Having ended our third semester on the rock, the hubby and I went to Georgia for a week to catch up with the family and to get some much needed R+R. (I would have blogged about it sooner, but the Caribserve guy still hasn't come to set up internet at our new apartment- if island life teaches you anything, its patience). Normally I make Peter go to a lot of places with me and participate in activities when we're on vacation, but in my constant efforts to improve myself as a wife, I decided to let him do whatever he felt like, which was generally not much, while I went out visiting the relatives and stuff.

I did a lot of doodling, but no painting over the break, so all the ideas I got while I was gone are now just bursting to get out. The first project I'm taking on is kind of ambitious, but I think it will be really cool once its finished. It will require nine pieces of paper, each with one jelly fish on it, with the tentacles extending over the edge of the paper, so that when they're hung together they create a kind of ethereal maze.

Flitting Little Reminders of Death

One of Chloe's cats caught a baby sugarbird today. It didn't kill it, but it was really hurt. From what I could see, it's wing was broken, and one of it's feet was nearly taken off. It was such a sad looking little thing. Peter came by and had a look and said it would probably be ok, so I felt a little more cheerful. I took it home and gave it water, and it started getting really interested in a piece of bread I'd soaked and put with it. It hopped in the little thing of water I'd set next to it, and seemed much perkier, flapping his poor little wings, and hopping on it's one foot. I figured he was tired from all the hopping and from surviving the cat attack, because he sat down and closed his eyes. But when I came back in to check on him a few minutes later he was dead. I love the little sugarbirds that are everywhere on St Marten, but now when I see them outside flying around I think of the sad little thing that died in my shoebox.

I tried to paint it, but I couldn't get it right, so I gave up and painted a purple panda instead.

Bleu Azur means Blue Blue

If that's what you have in mind then I'm mamamamovin' out! And by "that" I mean being gouged with rent, and having everything in my apartment breaking with nothing ever getting fixed. There is NO WAY I would ever consider renewing my lease for this dump. Bleu Azur is the worst apartment I've ever lived in... That's why I'm loading up the car and moving to Beverly, I mean Beacon, Hill. It's amazing how much higher rent is for all the buildings around the campus than the ones 2 miles away. Double the space for the same price folks... Also, the name doesn't make sense- Blue Blue?
I highly don't recommend this apartment building.
One of the best things about my new apartment is that I have a nice big desk all to myself. It's such a nice place to work, and to commemorate my release from the dark dungeoniness of Blue Azur, I present for your consideration an Azur Koala.

Low season at The Kissing Fish has suddenly gotten especially low, due mostly to the fact that the only real work I've been getting is on Tuesdays, whereas last year at this time of year I could be sure to work every Friday (which is definitely money night). Despite all my hard work over the past year, especially during high season where I'd work weeks at a time with no day off in between, I shouldn't have expected anything better .

Bummed out about the lack of work, and spending too much time around the house, I decided to head over to Dr Atchley's office to see if she had any volunteer projects that needed manning. She had several projects going on, but the state of my transportation made proximity a major factor, so I chose to help out at a place that teaches and takes in kids that are undocumented or illegal; kids that any government sanctioned entity wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. It starts next month. To be honest, I'm a little surprised at how much I'm looking forward to it.

See Turtles

The further into the semester it gets, the harder it gets to respect the hubby's constant need to study. At first it's like "no problem, we'll hang out next weekend." But eventually you realize next weekend isn't coming. In fact there is no weekend. Ever. Just 52 weeks of Thursdays, each more urgent than the next. Medschool is definitly not for newlyweds, or the faint of heart- double entendre. He's just lucky I am the supremely understanding superwife I am.

I've been keeping busy though. Work is pretty busy right now, so its nice to have a little disposable income. I used a little of said income to buy myself a really nice book of watercolor paper. I didn't realize how much of a difference using good paper would make, but it really is like night and day. My friend Justin asked if I could paint a simple sea turtle design on a blue background to hang in his apartment, and I got a little carried away. I painted about a dozen of them, and gave most of them away. I kept a couple for myself though. I wish I could get a better picture of them- they look much better in real life.I've been experimenting with a lot of different styles of painting lately, trying to find one that fits me. While researching different techniques, I came across some aboriginal paintings that really caught my eye. I tried my hand at creating a few paintings using only dots, but I really didn't like them, and only one was spared from the depths of the dust bin:

Not to sound like a gloomy gus, but I'm becoming pretty unhappy with my job. I really don't like working in a bar... mostly, I supppose, because I don't drink. I've also lost a good bit of respect for some people. When I took the job we were desperate for money, and we really didn't know where our next meal was coming from, because our loan check was late, and our savings had been used up in the moving process. I don't like hanging around drunks, and I definitely don't like working late (since I have to walk home by myself). Mostly, though, I'd like to work in a Christian enviroment. It's difficult to find a decent job though, since my visa requires that I don't seek employment. I guess I should just be thankful to have a job at all. I really need to find a church here. I think that would help a lot.