Books

I am slightly addicted to reading. Ok, scratch that--I am VERY addicted to reading. I love it; I eat, sleep, and breathe books. I mean, that's why I'm an English Major. Once in a while, I'll have a dream that is eerily similar to one of the books I've been reading. And that is where my addiction becomes scary. Because where other people have escapes like Second Life, I have books. While I am a firm believer that books are amazing--and I'm sure that I will encourage my children to become junkies like unto myself--there are moments when I worry that I've gotten in too deep. Because of books, my reality is full of expectations that will never be met: I once sat down on the sidewalk while it was snowing because I thought it would be the perfect moment for my true love to come along and sweep me off my feet. Yeah.

So I decided to stop, cold turkey. Well, I mean, I wasn't going to stop reading (that would severely damage my grades for ALL of my classes), but I was going to stop buying books. I had too many good books on my bookshelves that I needed to read. But this week I broke down; I fell off the wagon, and I bought not one, not two, but three new books. Three! I just couldn't resist. This past week I've just felt like I was drowning--I had to get out of the classroom, get out of Provo, and get out of Utah. But I'm poor, and I can't leave right now. So, as the panic was beginning to choke me, I did the only thing I could do: I bought three books. This literature junkie is very happy right now.

Because there is nothing quite like the look, the feel, the smell of a fat, new book.

The Past

Nostalgia is good. We remember good and bad time in our lives for a reason--those moments changed the course of our lives. Sometimes, I re-read some of my old poems and my old stories, and I laugh, but then I think "Hey, there is some glint in these; I can write something worth while." Here's something I wrote right before my senior year of high school began, and it made me think that we should just stop for a second and write down the first memories that come to our head. We could learn something from ourselves.



It's Sunday, August 3 (Kiera's birthday...big shout out to her), and I'm sitting in Church thinking how Tuesday is the beginning of the end of an era. Because Tuesday, August 5, is the first day of school for those of us who still attened AES, and for me, it's the first day of Senior year.

Over the summer, I've been thinking a lot about Senior year--worrying about Senior year, actually. It's a big thing to worry about. You've got college applications to deal with the first half of the year, and then the second half of the year you have to worry about final exams, which, for me, include the dreaded IB exams. Plus, I have almost all the same super hard classes as I did last year. Needless to say, I was anticipating that this weekend I would be feeling nervous, scared, or maybe even excited that I was finally going to be done with High School and with India. So it surprised me when I discovered that I was a little sad that this year would be my last, not only in High School, but in India too.

When we first moved here, everybody in my old neighborhood told me that I would have amazing experiences. And truth be told, I didn't believe them. But after living here almost two years, I'm kind of starting to believe them. I didn't have any life-changing experiences. I take that back. My life was changed by living here. Just not in the way you'd expect. There are moments from these two years that will probably be ingrained in my mind forever. For example:

I remember the day I left Utah...and the airplane ride to Delhi...and seeing the lights of Delhi for the first time...and my first day in the city when I almost passed out from the combination of masses of people, the smells, and the sights; people pointed at my dad and called him a giant.

I remember the feeling I had my first day at AES.

I remember house hunting with my dad.

I remember getting horribly sick the day of Minicourse. And the consequent train ride on which I threw up at least every hour.

I remember talking to Hannah about anything and everything during free periods.

I remember my first-ever Dead Week (there's a reason they call it that).

I remember the night I flew home for Christmas...and meeting my mom at the airport.

I remember waiting in the halls of Bingham for all my old friends and feeling so out of place it physically hurt me.

I remember the night before I had to go back to Delhi, and Hannah came over to celebrate my Sweet Sixteenth.

I remember my Sweet Sixteenth.

I remember sitting in a bungalow in Nepal, just thinking.

I remember the last day of school and feeling intensly relieved.

I remember the first day I met Maddie, and she gave me one word answers.

I remember the first day I met Miranda, and she wouldn't stop talking.

I remember the first night Maddie, Miranda, and I stayed up until two in the morning.

I remember Youth Conference where we were DJs because we were afraid the boys would ask us to dance (they did anyways).

I remember the first musical I had a major role in.

I remember going out almost every weekend.

I remember flying home for my sister's wedding.

I remember Moti Mahal and Tropicana nights with Maddie.

I remember working out in the weight room at school with Miranda.

I remember going to Shimla with the Stokers.

I remember going to the orphanage and wanting to hold and love every child there.

I remember the night Maddie and Miranda graduated, even though I couldn't be there.

I remember planning next summer with Hannah.

I remember a lot of things. And that's why my life has changed because of India. Because I've made so many memories in so short amount of time with some of the most amazing people I will ever meet. Because it's the little things that count.
I've learned some amazing lessons from those people, and others. Don't worry, I won't list all the lessons I've learned. I guess what I'm trying to say, after all of that, is that while I've hated living here some days, living in India was probably one of the best things that could have happened to me, and I'm really grateful to my parents for giving me the choice to come to Delhi.

So let the beginning of the end...well...begin!