Day 95: Love is not a victory march.

I started this morning by planning out a number of odds and ends to attend to, most of which I was able to complete over the course of the day.

My first task was some Sasha Bruce work, namely preparing a list of the organization's partners and donors, compiling this information from a few different documents, to be included in this year's Annual Report.

I then filled out an insurance claim for the trip to Geneva I had to cancel earlier this year due to sickness. Fun times!

For lunch, Papa and I met Nizar at Cosi (their Bombay Chicken Salad is a must-try). We had a great conversation about the ups and downs of the college admissions process, and how in the end, "every little thing is gonna be alright."

Back home, I started to draft (late, of course) thank you messages to the many people who made my 18th birthday and birthday celebrations wonderful. (Above is the front of a beautiful card given to me by Rodrigo Uncle, Marcela Auntie, and Isabella for my birthday.)

While writing, I noticed that Laura was online, so I spent some time finally talking to her in (relatively) real time for the first time since she set off for Paris. It was great to hear about the family with whom she is staying (she is teaching their five children English) and to fill her in on the current events of my life.

In the afternoon, I went to Flint Hill to jam with Mr. Cosby. We worked on three great songs today, and you can see our first crack at Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah" below (my apologies for the poor quality).


Since arriving back home, I've been helping Nani with a bit of last-minute packing. We'll be heading to the airport to see her off momentarily!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bygones -- by Marina Keegan

Image
I had a dream the other night that I was checking my email. That dream sucks. And woke to woes of seniors writing love songs for tomorrow and Tomorrow and the melodies That flirt us forward, whispering the next thing and the next thing and  – so we beat on birds flocking south until we circle round and realize maybe maybe all that running wasn’t worth it. Maybe we should build a cabin. Or teach high school. Or use our hands. My palms are smooth as words – Weak with fashion and double spaces. I want everyone else’s club and job and class The grass I sleep in always browner than Than that around erasing dreams To sit and breathe because you Only bank for two years then it's over And twenty two is nothing new It’s just another chance to build For when we’re twenty three And twenty four And time begins to sell for more than Any 9 a.m. to never. We’re not stuck. That's the thing, we're not stuck. We owe no o
Read more

Din 227: “God took his time making you.”

Image
I awoke this morning to the sound of my students -- what could be better? We started today’s class with 15 minutes of Anapana (the first step of Vipassana meditation), which is designed to concentrate the mind. I have never seen meditators more still or focused than these children! After teaching them the technique, I told them we would be starting every class like this from now on. Meditation is a wonderful tool they can take with them wherever they go, and they are lucky to be starting at such a young age! As the class broke into groups and started practicing numbers for our upcoming Variety Show, I caught up with a few students. Vandna, a sophomore and our oldest student, was supposed to pick her academic stream (cf. major) a few weeks ago, but had been waiting for my return to consult me before making her final decision. She is most interested in commerce and dreams of holding a high position at a bank one day, but her family is advising her to take liberal arts, which has le
Read more

PSYCHED for summer!

Image
The last few days have been emotional with packing and moving and no more exams and lots more goodbyes. Wednesday night we threw a fabulous surprise farewell party for a very oblivious Reylon, with many of his closest friends and entrywaymates turning out to shower him with love, song, and pizza. Yesterday came my last exam of the year, a truly tragic event -- I stayed in my Latin classroom until the very last possible moment, twiddling my thumbs and staring at my professor and trying to draw out my freshman year as long as possible. I cried when I turned in my test and left the room. In the evening, the Opportunes had our last private gig of the season at the Faculty Club (throwback to our first gig this year!), where our beautiful seniors performed their last public rendering of "Midnight Train to Georgia" amidst laughs from the audience and tears from Bernie. After a night of packing and snacking and New Girl , I fell asleep hoping to stay in
Read more