Fishing Expedition

            My dad has never been the most emotional person. He is very business-like and pretty straightforward. That’s what I like about him. However, this makes it difficult to have those father/daughter bonding moments- especially now that I am in college! This is why Easter weekend was awesome.

            We, meaning my family, are members of a small fishing club in Mineola, Texas called Woodvale. Woodvale is certainly nothing special. It is out in the middle of nowhere in East Texas. There is a small lodge that has about forty (very small) rooms, a main living room, and a kitchen. Located right behind the lodge is a popular train track on which a train goes roaring by about every two hours. This causes the lodge to shake and is extremely loud. However, there still manages to be an amazing sense of peacefulness at Woodvale. Wrapped around the front is a white picket fenced-in porch that has rocking chairs and a porch swing that allows us to simply sit in the shade and look out onto the beautiful, small fishing lake that is just below. Although it is simple, there is nothing like that view.

            Anyway, my mom and I tend to relax on the porch and read while my dad goes out on the lake in our small, yet spirited fishing boat. Over this past Easter break when we decided to take a trip to Woodvale, I decided that I was in more of a fishing mood. We got there around Friday afternoon and decided to relax for a while. Just after dinner though, my dad decided to go out in the boat. To his surprise, I volunteered to go with him. Unfortunately, it was a pretty quiet expedition with only one fish to show for it. It didn’t seem to matter, though. It was a beautiful evening with enjoyable weather and a gorgeous sunset that filled the sky with exploding pinks and oranges.

The next day, after breakfast, my dad and I decided to give it another run. We hopped in our motorboat, fishing poles in hand, and trucked across the lake into the middle one of three coves. It was another perfect day. The sun was high in the sky, partly covered by a random, carefree cloud floating by every now and then. We began casting our lures towards the bank of the lake. One cast… nothing; two casts… nothing; three casts… I was beginning to worry that it was going to be another unsuccessful fishing trip.

My dad periodically moved the boat up the bank until we found ourselves in another cove. We anchored by the lusciously green shore and began casting again. Suddenly, my dad got a hit! He fought to reel in the feisty fish on the end of his line while I frantically threw my pole in the boat and grabbed the net. Success! Our first caught of the day was a nice 1.5-pound bass! My dad managed to work the hook out of the bass’ tough mouth and held up his trophy. I applauded his catch and he gently threw it back in the water. With a splash from its tail, the bass was gone. Within minutes of my dad’s bass, I caught my first fish! I fought the bass as well as I knew how, and managed to get it into the net my dad was holding without letting it break the line.

There is just something about the feeling of working to reel in a fish and holding it in your hands that is just unexplainable. I could tell my dad was proud of me, which made it even more satisfying. After that, the fish began biting like crazy. My dad was up on me eight fish to five when we decided it was about time to go in. On one of my last casts, I snagged one more, bringing my count up to six. As we headed back in, I cast my lure out behind the boat to troll in. Unexpectedly, I felt a tug on the end of my line and shouted for my dad to stop the boat. I reeled in yet another bass, putting me only one behind my dad.

We finally made it back to the dock with the final count being eight to seven. I was so close to beating my dad, although, that did not really matter to me. I didn’t realize how much our fishing excursion mattered to him until I heard him repeat the story of our little competition to three different people when we returned. I loved that my dad was showing off our time together. It made me realize how much fun he and I both had. I may not have many bonding moments with my father, but I wouldn’t trade those I do have for the world.

What a Pleasant Surprise!

            I feel like a lot of times, people say they are not very easy to surprise. I am the complete opposite. It is not that I am completely clueless, or that I am not nosy (because, honestly, I can be pretty nosy at times), but I am so easy to surprise because I am never expecting to be surprised! Surprises are just not a big part of my life; that is why when my parents surprised me with my new car, I was absolutely beside myself.

            I remember it was August 12, 2009. It was another steaming, hot summer day in Dallas just before my senior year in high school, and my dad, mom, sister and I were getting ready to go out to lunch together. I was already exhausted because I had four hours of field hockey practice just before. With me being the first one ready to go, which was quite a rare occurrence, my mom asked me if I could go out front and get the mail before we left. Not thinking anything of it, I walked up to the front door, turned the cold, golden colored lock to “unlock,” and stepped out into the roasting heat. I slowly strolled down my front sidewalk when I suddenly heard the front door open behind me. I turned to see who it was, and to my surprise, saw my mom standing on the porch with her video camera in hand.

            “Mom! What are you doing? Why do you have the video camera?” I remember asking, completely confused.

            Then I saw my dad come out behind her with a white headband with a sparkling pipe cleaner halo on top of it and a sign that I couldn’t quite make out. He came up to me and put the headband on my head and the sign around my neck.

            What the heck is going on? I remember thinking. Just then, I turned around to face the street once again and everything seemed to go in slow motion from there. I saw a clean looking black SUV turn the corner onto my street. It took me a few seconds before I realized that I knew the driver behind the wheel. Lauren, my sister, pulled the car up to the sidewalk in front of our house. I stood there, completely still, trying to put it all together. Why was my sister driving this random car? Why was my mom filming me? Why was my dad putting weird things on me?

            “Holy crap.” I managed to mutter under my breath. “OH MY GOSH!” I yelled, much louder this time. My mom and dad started to chuckle behind me as my sister stepped out of the gorgeous, brand new Toyota Rav-4. I was completely speechless. That amazing car was for me.

            I turned around, still in the same spot as before, and looked at my parents with tears in my eyes. I could not believe that they would surprise me with something as big as this. I was still speechless as tears now streamed down my face. I was engulfed in a happiness that is unexplainable. I was so grateful for what they had done.

            As I slowly began to get the feeling back in my legs, I ran up to my parents and attacked them with a bear hug. I then managed to make out what the sign around my neck said. “You’re almost 18… Happy birthday!” I was ecstatic. After I finished with my family hugfest, I finally got the nerve to jump into the driver’s seat and try out my new baby! That was by far the best lunch I had ever eaten.

Lucky to be Alive?

I know this is way over the allotted length, but I felt it was necessary....

            In high school, I was rather accident-prone. I sprained my ankle multiple times and I always had a scrape or bruise somewhere on my body from sports. The scrapes and bruises never really bothered me- I actually enjoyed showing them off. The ankle sprains were annoying mostly because the healing process was long and tedious. However, none of these injuries were ever that dramatic. Then, in October of sophomore year in high school, my accidents began to become a little more serious. Unfortunately, I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time during one of my field hockey games and ended up being smacked in the face with the follow through of my opponent’s stick. I wound up with thirteen stitches and a broken nose. After a simple surgery a week later and then six weeks of healing, I was good to go. However, little did I know, the following October of my junior year had something much worse in store for me.

            It was a Wednesday morning and I was just trying get through the last school day for that week. We had both Thursday and Friday off for a holiday and I was more than ready for a break. At 9:00 a.m., my friend, Shelci, and I strolled into our school’s gym to sit through another mandatory, boring assembly where other students, not us, were receiving awards. We brought along some leftover homework from the night before to pass the time. With about fifteen minutes left in the assembly, I began to notice that my right ankle felt a little funny- sort of tight. I pulled up my jean pant leg and asked Shelci if she thought it looked swollen.

            “Eh, maybe a little…” she responded with a shrug.

            “I must have tweaked it in my field hockey game yesterday,” I answered. We quickly moved on to something else as we jumped down the uneven bleachers and shuffled through the sea of students out of the gym. Shelci and I conveniently had the next period off, and found ourselves in the library continuing our unfinished homework from the night before. Very shortly after getting situated in the library, I began to realize that my ankle was beginning to develop a dull ache, and looked slightly more swollen. Luckily, the nurse’s office happened to be located in the library so I decided to pay her a visit. I explained to her how I noticed it swelling and it was beginning to hurt. She contently gave me a couple of Advil and sent me on my way. If only it had been that simple.

            I returned to the table that Shelci and I had claimed by our exploded books and papers, and tried to focus on my reading assignment that was due by the next period. I just couldn’t do it. After about twenty minutes, the dull ache had turned into a painfully sharp throb. My ankle was even more swollen, so I returned to the nurse. She wasn’t sure what was going on so she decided to wrap my ankle in medical tape in order to prevent any more swelling. I left her office for a total of about five minutes before I decided that the tape was not helping. The pain got even worse so I frantically unraveled the extensively wrapped kankle. As I got up from my seat to return once again to the nurse’s office, I nearly fell over. Shocked, I looked down at my ankle. It was so swollen and painful that I could no longer hold my body’s weight on it. Shelci had to assist me in walking to the nurse’s office one last time before class. By this point, I could tell that the nurse was beginning to be quite concerned. Because I had class at 10:00 a.m., she gave me a pair of crutches to use and insisted that I go see the school trainers as soon as they arrived at 12:00 p.m. I thanked her, and, trying my best to ignore the pain, headed across campus to the science building.

            My physics class was supposed to last for an hour and a half, but it was only an hour for me. As much as I tried to conceal the pain I was feeling, my teacher saw straight through my façade and forced me to leave early in order to pay a visit to the trainers. Although the trainers were used to seeing me, they were surprised that I was arriving to early in the day. As I hopped up on one of the training tables, I told the trainer how my ankle randomly started swelling only three hours before and now looked like it had a mango under its skin. They tried to take a look, but it was now past the point of touching because the pain was just too unbearable. Only, this was nowhere close to the end of it.

            The trainer elevated and iced my ankle as I laid there, holding back tears, waiting for my mom to take me to the doctor. What seemed like hours later, even though it was only about thirty minutes, my mom and I were on our way to my doctor. We arrived, anticipating only what was going to be more bad news. No one knew what was wrong with my ankle. My doctor sent us on our way to the emergency room. I was starting to feel as though I was on a quest with no final answer. Even though there was no one in the waiting room at the ER, it still managed to take at least forty-five minutes until they could see me. I was now in excruciating pain, and had little patience left.

            Unfortunately, the ER was an extremely unpleasant experience. The doctors/nurses were very stubborn and did not listen to anything I was saying. First, they gave me a shot in my butt! It was for the pain, but it didn’t do much. Then, they did some blood work. They concluded that my white blood cell count was high, but because I did not have a fever, it was not an infection. Then they took X-rays, and that showed absolutely nothing as well. The doctors suggested that I go see an orthopedist. By this time, as you might have guessed, things were not good. My mom was frustrated and extremely worried, and I was to the point to where everything from here on out is kind of a blur because of how much pain I was in. I do know that the nurse tried to force a boot onto my ankle before I left- BAD idea. My ankle was so swollen that it barely even fit. The nurse insisted that I wear the boot. I started screaming in pure agony as she forced the boot onto the balloon that used to be my foot. My mom had finally had enough. She demanded that the nurse leave and take the boot with her. We were out of there.

            Because it was early evening, no orthopedist was at his office. I had not eaten anything all day, so my mom and I stopped by Jamba Juice to grab a quick smoothie. I force it down the best I could. We had an appointment to see an orthopedic surgeon first thing in the morning, but I had a long night ahead of me. My parents had me sleep in their bed that night. I slipped in and out of a light sleep all night long. One of the times I woke up in the middle of the night, I had to jump out of bed the best I could and crawl to the bathroom just in time to vomit from the pain. That was the longest night of my life.

            By the time morning rolled around, I was begging my parents to take me to the orthopedist. We arrived early, but luckily, for once in my life, the doctor was on time. This was an entirely new day, with new luck. The minute the orthopedic surgeon took a look at my red, puffy ankle he knew what it was. He stuck a giant needle, at least a centimeter in diameter, in the side of my ankle and extracted fluid. It was disgusting, but exactly what he was looking for. He explained to me that I had an extremely serious infection in my ankle and needed to be taken into surgery immediately.

            Two surgeries and six days later, I was able to leave the hospital and head home for the first time in a week. I had somehow contracted a Type B Streptococcus infection in the joint of my ankle. With two surgeries, three weeks of IV antibiotics, two weeks of oral antibiotics, and plenty of painful therapy, I was back to normal in about five months. I lost twelve pounds and almost all of the muscle in my right leg- but I survived. It was only this past summer that I finally realized how serious this infection truly was. My mom admitted that she and my dad were much more scared than they showed during the time. Only a week before I had been infected, one of their old friend’s kids had died from the exact same infection, only hers spread to her heart. I thank God all the time for providing that orthopedic surgeon just in time, and for the infectious disease doctor who figured out what it was. I believe that the amount of pain I felt before my surgeries was a blessing so that we were able to take this matter as seriously as it was. Thankfully, ever since that October in 2008, I have become less accident-prone. Let’s just hope I remain that way!

Law & Order: Special Victims Unit

I am not one to watch a lot of television. In high school, I just never really had the time. Most of my days played out like this: Wake up (late) around 7:00 a.m., take a quick shower, get to school by 8:00 a.m., go to classes, go to school sport (either field hockey, soccer, or softball) practice at 4:00 p.m., be done with school sport around 6:00 p.m., grab a quick smoothie from Smoothie King (almost always Caribbean Way), race over to club soccer practice at 7:00 p.m., finish soccer at 9:00 p.m. (if my coach didn’t keep us late), FINALLY get home by 9:30 p.m., eat dinner, do homework, and crash. Now that I think back on it, I’m not sure what I was thinking with that schedule. All I know is I loved it! Anyway, due to a pretty crazy schedule, television was never really high on my “to do” list. Now, in college, I might watch some television every now and then, but I do not really have the means to just sit on the couch and “veg.” Most of the time, I am completely ok with that.

However, there has always been that one show that, if on, ruins all hope for being productive for the next hour (or hours, depending on how many episodes are on). This show is suspenseful, thrilling, tricky, and at times, scary! This show is Law & Order: Special Victims Unit. I know that there are many versions of Law & Order, but this is the only one that I love. There is just something about this show that completely captivates my attention. Firstly, the characters are fantastic! I don’t care how cheesy some of their lines may be, I love every second of it. First, there’s the kick-butt woman detective, Olivia, her rebellious partner, Elliot. These two make such a great, dynamic duo. Elliot is always bending the rules, leaving me a little nervous, but also eager to see how it turns out, while Olivia is an intelligent cop with a rough past that always comes back to haunt her in one way or another. The two balance each other out and always solve the case.

Then there are the other detectives on the squad like Munch and Finn. These two are the more comical characters if you ask me (even though they’re not meant to be). Finn, who is played by the rapper Ice-T (which is comical within itself), always manages to have those cliché lines in the show that always manage to bring a chuckle out of me. You know those lines in mysteries that are rather “punny”? For example, in one episode, he is making a comment to the forensic team about how long they are taking to examine a bathroom and he says something along the lines of, “Are you almost done in there? You’re starting to make my ex-wife look good.” What a line! I know how cheesy this is, but a little bit of cheesiness every now and then isn’t so bad; and SVU has just the perfect amount.

Besides the characters, the best part about Law & Order: SVU is the storyline! Every episode is a suspenseful thriller that leaves me on the edge of my seat until the very last minute. Between finding the perpetrator of the crime and the prosecution of him/her, the action it nonstop! Although many of the stories are rather dark, most of them have somewhat happy endings, and nothing is more satisfying than to see a bad guy go to jail! (I know that sounds elementary, but I found it appropriate.) Almost always Law & Order: Special Victims Unit is on television there are things I need to do. Whether it’s homework, chores, exercise, or almost anything else, it is put on hold for this addicting show. TV usually does not get the best of me, but when SVU is on, it is a lost cause. 

Potentially the Last Meeting... But Hopefully Not!

            So, Young and I met again last week. We decided to meet in the Rec again since that worked out nicely the last time. This time around, Mr. Luke Hockett decided to join us! Just like last time, this meeting was much more comfortable and fun for the both of us! It is so refreshing to be able to really see how our relationship has developed over the past couple of months. Unfortunately, Young and I did not get to meet as often as I would have liked. However, the time we did get to spend together was an amazing experience that certainly taught me so much and has made me grow as a person.

            It was so nice to see how excited Young gets when we hang out. We spent the entire game of pool high fiving or hugging after good shots, and sharing lots of laughs after the not so good ones. As fun as all of this was, my favorite part of this visit was what we did after we finished playing pool and after Luke left (no offense, Luke). After our second game of pool, I was thinking it was about time to head out. However, Young asked me something that I was not expecting.

Instead of the usual, slightly awkward goodbye, she asked me if I had some extra time to stick around and help her with her homework. I was delighted! At first, I was not sure what kind of homework she was talking about, and even if I would be able to help her; but that did not stop me from excitingly agreeing. We went over to a couple of couches by the pool tables and sat down where a small wooden table was. Before she did anything else, she unzipped the small pocket of her backpack and pulled out two small pieces of candy. They were a type of South Korean candy. She offered me one and I took it gratefully. At first, I was a little concerned how this would taste. It was unlike any other candy I have tried before, but it tasted delicious! When I expressed to her how much I enjoyed it, she was ecstatic and pulled out four more candies and gave them to me!

I told her that she didn’t have to do that, but she insisted I take the candy. After this, she pulled out her thick English workbook and a pencil from her backpack. I was thrilled to see that it was only English that we were going to be working on. She flipped to the page of her assignment and explained in the best English she could what she was supposed to do. There was a short essay she was to read and then about twenty multiple-choice questions pertaining to the grammar in the essay. I let her read the essay out loud and then, one by one, we went over each question and considered the best possible answers.

I have to admit, this assignment was more difficult than I thought it would be. I always forget how insanely complicated the English language is. There were a few questions that even threw me for a loop. I am certainly thankful to have been raised in an English-speaking household with a strong education in English. Working with Young really made me consider how difficult and challenging this whole experience of being in the United States must be for her. She did not know any English when she came here, and to see how well she has picked up the language so quickly is extremely impressive. I definitely admire her courage and perseverance she has shown through this adventure.

Fortunately, I was able to help her complete the assignment, and she was so thankful! It felt so nice to be able to help her. I definitely feel as though we have both been able to benefit from our meetings. Even though the first couple meetings were a little rough, these last two have been extremely rewarding. I am hoping that we will be able to meet one last time before I leave for home. 

Open Window-- sorry this is late..

I have been without Internet the past few days and am just now getting around to posting these blogs that I wrote... 

           Although I did enjoy reading Thurber’s “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty,” it doesn’t quite compare to “Open Window.” For some reason, this story just struck my funny bone! I remember reading this story my sophomore year of high school for my English class. However, I don’t think that I found it as humorous as I did this time around. I think that because I was able to remember the story and the niece, I was able to really analyze her character.

            I love how Saki opens the story by describing the girl as a “very self-possessed young lady of fifteen.” Initially, I thought that this is a peculiar way to describe someone. However, as I read on, I began to remember how this story unfolded. Saki writes this story as if it is about a skittish, shy man named Framton Nuttle. He goes into a rather in depth description about Mr. Nuttle as well as a background of why he visiting the Sappletons’ home. The only catch is that Saki does this purely to set up the niece. I believe that this story is one about the niece, not Mr. Nuttle.

            Although not much is said about Vera, the “young lady,” Saki does a fantastic job of indirectly characterizing her. Initially, Vera seems to be a normal, pleasant fifteen-year-old girl. She does her best to entertain her guest until her aunt arrives. However, her motives become questionable when she tells Mr. Nuttle the devastating story of her uncle and the two boys. The detail with which she described the men and even the dog seemed to be a sure sign of the story’s legitimacy… for Mr. Nuttle at least. At this point in the story, since I knew she was telling a fib, I found her story, and Mr. Nuttle’s uneasy reaction to it, quite entertaining.

            However, my absolute favorite part of the story occurs towards the end. Once Mrs. Sappleton is introduced to Mr. Nuttle and his many anomalies, and Mr. Nuttle saw the “ghosts” coming towards the house and quickly bolted out the door, I couldn’t completely remember what happened next. However, the minute Vera spoke for the last time in the story, I remembered exactly how hysterical her character is with her extravagant stories.

Reading “Open Window” for the second time around allowed me to appreciate the irony of this story so much more. Vera is such an entertaining character who we slowly get to know as to story progresses. Saki completes the story with the perfect line of, “Romance at short notice was her specialty.” As a reader, after Vera tells her second tale, I was at the point of questioning what exactly was going on. This line is the perfect closure to both the story and the characterization of Vera.

Meeting #3!

           Things are going much better! This time around, I met Young in the Rec with one of her friends. In fact, it was Carmen’s conversation partner, Shinhye! When I first arrived, there were actually three of Young’s friends there. Honestly though, I cannot remember the two boys’ names. Anyway, the two boys left after we were introduced and Shinhye, Young, and I proceeded to talk. Young and Shinhye had actually been playing pool with the others and asked if I wanted to join them! Just then, one of my friends from my dorm room, Michael, walked up. I introduced him to Young and Shinhye and then asked him if he wanted to play as well. The four of us split up into two teams, Michael and Shinhye versus Young and myself, and racked the pool balls.

            This was certainly a different start than my previous two meetings with Young, and it was great! I think Young felt more comfortable to have Shinhye there because they were able to help each other with English. I noticed that I am getting better at understanding Young, as well. (I was able to help Michael a few times.) This was certainly the first time for us to meet and not feel completely and totally awkward!

            The first two really weren’t that bad, they were just difficult. I really think that both Young and I are finally past the awkward introduction stage and on to the friend stage! We were making jokes the whole time and laughing at our misunderstandings of each other. I loved being on a Young’s team also. She is quite the pool player! Certainly better than me, because after Michael and Shinhye left, we stuck around and played one more game. Although it was close, I managed to scratch while trying to get that final 8 ball into the hole, handing the well-fought game over the Young as the victor.

            It was nice getting to know Shinhye, as well. She is also from South Korea, and is so excited to be at TCU! She really seems to love TCU. Shinhye and Young are just about on the same level when it comes to English. However, when one was struggling to find a word in English, they were able to figure out another way to say it by speaking Korean to each other. (Or they were talking about me, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t do that…)

            Seeing Young and Shinhye together really gave me a better sense of their culture. Young has always been very outgoing and rather physical, but I wasn’t sure if that was just the way she is. However, Shinhye seemed to be the same way! This leads me to think that it is very common in South Korean culture to be very friendly and physical in relationships. (By “physical” I mean that they both hugged me and constantly grabbed my arm in a playful way when we were joking.) This is pretty much the complete opposite of what I expected. Although I don’t know much about South Korea, I would not have guessed that these girls would be so friendly and outgoing! I actually assumed quite the opposite. I would have thought that I would constantly be guiding the conversation and at most, shaking hands with Young. Playing pool with Young and Shinhye was so much fun!