Ojalá

Laughter, commotion, the booming echo of a thick textbook hitting the polished floor, and three recorded bell-chimes -- this is how I became late for fifth period last week.

Normally, teachers expect many late students fifth period. As we trickle in, still grinning with lunch's contentment, one, two, or even three minutes late, the average teacher attempts to ignore us. They remain at their desks occupied elsewhere as the class settles down and the tardy few slip into their seats. Unfortunately, my Spanish professor, Sra. Alsina, is not one of those teachers. So, unsuspecting as I was, I waltzed through the door two minutes behind the last bell casually. In a rush, I had grabbed the door handle at an awkward angle, my wrist bent uncomfortably as I twisted it around. My hair was a whirlwind of disheveled frizz and misplaced curls. As I took my first step into the door I was caught off-guard immediately by the gradual slipping of my red spiral notebook pressed tightly with my other binders against my chest. Instead of the "fashionably late" appearance I would have preferred, I stumbled messily through the doorway on one leg, the other was bent upwards, the knee receiving the red notebook until I painfully cranked my arm around to catch it completely. Looking up, slightly impressed with my own coordination, my eyes met the senora's. Disapproving and degrading, her eyes scanned me for a moment before she dramatically extended her arm - pointing at my desk.

While I settled into my seat I noticed the other students were taking a test. A flushed, silent panic swept over me as I realized that I never caught up on our vocab lesson the day I was absent, the week before. And sure enough, this test was on "Ojalá" and the use of the following subjunctive verbs.
Staring down at the test with contempt, I sealed my dooming fate with one ironical thought; next year at this same date I will be fluent in Spanish, conversing as if it is nothing at all, dreaming, thinking and singing all in Spanish. But, instead of feeling relieved, or soothed by this thought, I felt overwhelmed and angry for not taking the initiative in my Spanish classes here. Though, after experiencing this profound reflection of my own drive and performance I FAILED anyway.):

Nevertheless, while I was gazing blankly at the test I thought of the word "ojalá." In Spanish it means hopefully. "Hopefully I will pass this test," I thought. "Hopefully I have enough gas in my car to get home." "Hopefully I hear from my host family this month, this week, today, this second." "Hopefully I'll raise enough money." Hopefully, hopefully, hopefully. We invest so much meaning into this word: hope. We use it so commonly. But as I sat there, hoping, I realized what I was missing. Why hope when you can decide? Why dream when you are awake? Why fail a test that you could have passed? My passing thought is not deserving of hope. Hope is expecting with confidence, cherishing a desire with pure anticipation. In the rush of life its easy to slack off, blame it on the mystically false idea of "bad luck," or just dismiss the things we don't want to address and expect our goals to happen by themselves. But not anymore!

So, who's up for taking the initiative? I figure, I deserve to fail if I didn't study. If I don't have any gas then it's my responsibility to sacrifice lunch for two gallons. Also, I already have the perfect Spanish host family- they just don't know they have chosen me yet! (the power of positive thinking :/ hahaha) The time that I hear from them will be the perfect time and it will surely change my life.

But, in the meantime I will be doing everything I can in anticipation for what I KNOW (not hope) will be the best experience of my life.

if all is grounded, you should go make a mountain out of it...

As almost all things do in my life, this journey began with a dream. A flash, a burst, a show of flickering fantastical images perform behind my shut eyelids. Vivid and bright for the moments I am consciously aware, anything could happen.
I am taken to the airport. Dropped on the curb by a taxi. Destination: undecided. Where would you go? If it were your own lucid dream? If you could design your own destiny and you could map your own unique journey? If you could break free from the obligations and the knots holding you from this life would you?  You can. It is never too early or too late to dive into an adventure of epic proportions -- to experience life. All you need is a dream and twenty seconds of insane courage to get started. From distance, to funding, to even gravity; in the pursuit of this dream you cannot let anything get in you're way. After all in this short short life no one can afford to hold back.

“The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.”
~ Mark Twain

So what are you waiting for? Chase it! That thrill, that moment, that faith, that pride, that knowledge, that peace - they are all out there waiting for you!

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference." ~Robert Frost

Bienvenidos...

"An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered."

-Gilbert K. Chesterton

In the spirit of adventure, and the terror and bliss that accompany it I would like to introduce myself, Esther. I am a student, an athlete, a friend, and a sister. Since 2006, when my family and I abandoned our home in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, I have been fortunate enough to call the breathtaking Marin County, California my home. This year, my sophomore year in high school, I confronted my parents with a proposition. Eight years have elapsed since my eldest sister Emily had the same chat, it was six years ago for Elizabeth, and just four short years for Rebecca. Traveling to Argentina and Chile, my sisters lived with a family, studied in the language and drowned in foreign culture.

I am delighted to announce that I will be traveling to Spain (specific destination still unknown) next year for the entirety of my junior year.

More hopeful than nervous, more nervous than anxious, and more anxious than frightened, I move forward towards my September departure date. As deadlines loom and pressure rises, I will use this blog as a way to divulge my concerns and organize my progression. One goal that is particularly large is my tuition contribution of $5000...

More to come!