<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369</id><updated>2012-02-16T02:12:27.027-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chris's Thoughts</title><subtitle type='html'>Now from Bangkok</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>32</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-4968696815425008875</id><published>2010-04-29T11:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-29T11:17:00.591-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Curiosity made the cat a great lover</title><content type='html'>http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-urban-scientist/201004/the-one-dating-trait-successful-future-mate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once I waded though pop-psychology psychobabble, I decided he had a good point. Curiosity helps create good relationships. The bottom line is that the more you understand someone the better you will learn to interact with them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And let's face it, we all appreciate people who show a sincere, accepting, interest in ourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another interesting thing he postulated was that Prejudice and judgment are the opposite of curiosity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The biggest issues I had with his theory were his coupling of maturity and narcissism within his construct off curiosity. Maturity might be the opposite narcissism, but do we really become MORE curious as we become more mature? That might be a good goal, but I find that older people tend to have much LESS curiosity than younger people. Narcissists, on the other hand, clearly would not be curious people, but their lack of curiosity is only a sign of their ridiculous pride.....though finding people who are curious would be a good way to eliminate narcissists from your life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bigger issue is treatment of curiosity as a static character trait. When you first meet someone, you're bound to be more interested in them. However, it's very possible that people eventually lose this curiosity. Indeed excessive curiosity might even be reason to stray--you've gotten used to your partner and are curious about new people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that being said, reading the article, I realized that I really value curiosity when it comes to relationships and friendships. I'm not the kind of person to just tell you who I am, what I think. I'll wait for you to express interest and acceptance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In addition his emphasis on being non-judgmental is also really enlightening, and a character trait to strive for. We're should be slow to judge--striving to completely understand before we make a judgment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are your thoughts?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can curiosity be cultivated?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do we become less curious as we become more mature?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How much do you value curiosity?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At what point does curiosity cross the line into creepiness, TMI, and intrusiveness?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-4968696815425008875?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/4968696815425008875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/04/curiosity-made-cat-great-lover.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4968696815425008875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4968696815425008875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/04/curiosity-made-cat-great-lover.html' title='Curiosity made the cat a great lover'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-6962703078591208417</id><published>2010-03-28T10:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T10:36:46.162-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fight</title><content type='html'>I need inspiration, so I push play on my itunes media player and hear, “Don’t put your fists up, fill them,” from the Flobots’ song Fight With Tools. Unencumbered by social obligations, I jump out of my bed, beat my chest, and grunt maniacally at the mirror. I then interpretively dance to the song, holding out my hand, desperate for something I can fight with. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah--that's why I want to be a lawyer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-6962703078591208417?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/6962703078591208417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/03/fight.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6962703078591208417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6962703078591208417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/03/fight.html' title='Fight'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-4825286734922027525</id><published>2010-03-10T21:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-03-10T21:54:23.669-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Going Home</title><content type='html'>Monday was my last day of school. I wrote letters to the future teachers, packed my things, and left Wattana Wittaya Academy for the last time. I feel like I was successful. My goals coming over here were&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. To experience a foreign culture&lt;br /&gt;2. Help some people out.&lt;br /&gt;3. Become a part of a church community&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the experiencing a foreign culture didn't take too much work.....but I adapted to a different living situation, lifestyle, and food, and though I'll be coming out a little thinner, I enjoyed it, and learned a lot about myself and other people. Different environments bring out different parts of who you are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In terms of helping people out, coming over here, my general idea was that there would be more volunteer opportunities in a developing country like Thailand than in a wealthy country like America. This was definitely true. I was too busy to commit to a weekly project, but at various times I was able to hang out with orphans, teach English to refugees, build a house in the country, sing Christmas Carols in the gay red-light district, and play with kids in the slum. More recently, I've been helping a Sri Lankan refugee and his family who have started attending our church. If you'd like to read his story, and be a part of helping him survive next month, check out the letter I attached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps the surprise in all of this was helping my kids out. I came over here with the mentality that I would be teaching rudimentary English to a bunch of spoiled rich kids. I didn't consider my job to be especially praiseworthy. Funny thing is, when you invest yourself, and devote yourself to something, even teaching rudimentary English, you start to really care, and really love. 210 Wattana 2nd graders now have a permanent residence in my soul, right next to the guys from TLC, and the Haitians in Ferrier. I'm struggling with how I can keep my investment, and ensure my work does not go to waste. If you want to check out pics of me and my kids, go to www.flickr.com/startstatick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, I've become part of a church community--New Song Bangkok. I am a part of this church like I have never been a part of any other church. I spend 4-6 days a week with people who go to the church. Every single opportunity I've had in Thailand has come through my church. All the volunteer stuff, basketball on Saturdays, sailing in October, visiting the Bolevan plateau in Laos, visiting Chang Rai and Burma....going to Sri Lanka in April---I mean, the list just goes on.  I am so grateful to God finding me a comfortable place, only one BTS stop away from my apartment, where I can grow with people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But more pertinent news: I'm coming home! Today, I booked my ticket. I WILL BE ARRIVING IN DALLAS ON  SUNDAY, APRIL 18, AT 8:45 PM. I'm very excited. I'm planning to be in Waco Mon. through Sunday--go to Church Under the Bridge on Sunday, then arrive back in Virginia later on Sunday the 25th, or on Monday the 26th. If you want to hang out let me know--I might try to make a facebook group or something to sort of coordinate stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-4825286734922027525?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/4825286734922027525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/03/going-home.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4825286734922027525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4825286734922027525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/03/going-home.html' title='Going Home'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-3761323247471978775</id><published>2010-02-18T06:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-18T07:28:32.784-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snippets from Wattana</title><content type='html'>So today was my last day of after-school club, so I brought my camera and took some pics, and even a couple of videos. Here's a small sampling my work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/S31bw396LQI/AAAAAAAAAEw/TvdkL31_BG4/s1600-h/P2180024.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/S31bw396LQI/AAAAAAAAAEw/TvdkL31_BG4/s320/P2180024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439604820148890882" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is more or less the version of Jack and Jill I taught my 2nd graders. As you can see, the camera definitely effected their performance. Usually they all end up in a heap on the ground. They also tend to get the "tumbling after," part. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-ebee4a86fd03dafb" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Debee4a86fd03dafb%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331901174%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5F236FCE085E8879C85707EDA65A72942C539538.1AC94552176CBDA2C6664E87E49B4B600EDEA36F%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Debee4a86fd03dafb%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DDV6wTnb4_bRiCIRosmYgYixtpgY&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v23.nonxt8.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Debee4a86fd03dafb%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331901174%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5F236FCE085E8879C85707EDA65A72942C539538.1AC94552176CBDA2C6664E87E49B4B600EDEA36F%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Debee4a86fd03dafb%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DDV6wTnb4_bRiCIRosmYgYixtpgY&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-3761323247471978775?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/3761323247471978775/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/3761323247471978775'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/3761323247471978775'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/02/blog-post.html' title='Snippets from Wattana'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/S31bw396LQI/AAAAAAAAAEw/TvdkL31_BG4/s72-c/P2180024.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-610487327930063686</id><published>2010-02-08T07:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-02-08T07:55:02.956-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My routine</title><content type='html'>(I sent this out as an e-mail to friends back home, and figured I'd share it here as well.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've now been in Bangkok eight months. Thinking back, it's crazy to think how much of an adustment I've had to make. Living here in the beginning just shocked every part of me. I'm a creature of habit, and this threw me off. I had to figure out where to buy clothes that fit me, where I could get food, what I could eat for breakfast, how to wash clothes, how to work the shower, who my friends were going to be, how I was going to work out, how I could afford life, how to survive the 7:45-4:30, how to handle the heat, the smells, the beggars, the lady-boys, the prostitutes, the communication.......but I have more or less figured it out now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Routine &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;      Getting Up&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I've figured it out, I've settled into an approximate routine: I wake up in my spacious walk-in closet at 6:20 every morning. Because I went to sleep too late the night before, I immediately hate life, and hit the snooze button. After ten minutes of wishing I could fall back asleep, I turn my alarm clock off, and lay in bed for five more minutes, mustering the strength to get out of bed. I then drink a yukha (yogurt drink that somebody told me helps me stomach. Anything that is ever rumored to help my stomach, I drink.),  take a shower, get dressed, and jump from my apartment balcony on to the Bangkok Sky Train. (Ok, it's not REALLY that close, but it's close) I get off the sky train, and if I'm on time, hop on the little open air school bus that takes me to school.  If I'm running a bit late, I hail a moto cy driver, and have him zip me to school for 33 cents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At School&lt;br /&gt;Once at school, I immediately go to the school store and get a bag of freshly picked and cut papaya for 75 cents. I then walk towards the office. On my way to the office, the national anthem is played. I due my duty, withstand the heat, and stand, frozen, for the duration of what feels like the longest song in the world. I arrive at the office, and change into my mismatched work shoes (I came to Bangkok with an already ratty pair of shoes. Being in them all day at work, and jumping around in class basically destroyed them, so I caved and bought a new pair. Two weeks after buying the beautiful new pair of shoes, I left one in the phone booth. This meant I had to revert back to my old pair of shoes. After a week or two, the right footed shoe just completely broke down. Fortunately, I still have my RIGHT footed NEW shoe. I don't want to spend 30 dollars on a new pairs of of shoes, so I just wear the two mismatched ones.[at least their both black] So far, the only person to say anything is my boss, and he thinks it's funny) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my shoes on, I am officially dressed for class, so I go over the lesson I am going to teach next, prepare worksheets and games for class, and leave for my class a little later than I should. As I get to the hallway in my school where the 6 classrooms that house 250 2nd grade girls, I am greeted by waves, and pleas for "hi fies." Upon prompting, they correct their pronounciation to high fiVVVVe, and I oblige them by making them jump for a high fiVVVVVe. (They get an incredible sense of accomplishment of having to jump for a high five. Interestingly, this is not limited to second graders. I've done it with adults, and it's more rewarding for them too.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Class&lt;br /&gt;Upon my arrival at class, I forget to sign the sign in sheet. My arrival does nothing to calm the bedlam in class, only leading to more students asking for hi fies, and some especially eager student wondering if we're going to play "freeze." My co-teacher arrives, and yells at the kids in Thai....I never have any clue what she is saying, but they all get a look of shame, and quiet down and come to order. I assume she is chastising them for acting like seven year olds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She then takes half of the class upstairs. The remaining students then organize themselves into teams (each row is a team) The first team to come to order gets to pick their name first, and gets a head start on points. (Points are the lifeblood of class. Kids will do anything to earn them, and cringe at the mere idea of them being taken away) I then start off the class with a game of freeze, where I command the students to do various things in english brush teeth, eat noodles, watch TV, dance, sing, and then will suddenly say freeze. I then walk around class imitating and making fun of the positions they are stuck in. "I said to SWIM! You have your mouth open! Don't swim with your mouth open! If you swim with your mouth open, you will swallow water!" (I imitate choking and drowning)" We then start the actual phonics portion of the class, where I try to trick the kids into learning, by allowing them to earn points for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After managing to hold their attention for up to 6 minutes, I hand out a worksheet, with instructions to a draw a specific picture on the back after they are finished. During this time, the gifted, achievement oriented students finish early, and come over to my desk to do word box (I have a system for more advanced students where they take home 10 words at a time, master them, then come back and say them to me. After they have mastered the phonics 180 difficult English words, I give them three small stickers.) All the hyper ones finish early, and goof off. Everybody else just wizzes through the worksheet, and try to spend an obscene amount of time drawing the perfect picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If we still have time after giving them 20 minutes to draw a picture, we'll do what the most vocal 15% of the class wants to do: play a game!!!!! Run and hit!!???? At the end of class, the team with the most points gets my signature in their "Achievement chart." After I sign their chart 18 times, they get three small stickers. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After School Club&lt;br /&gt;After teaching three four classes like this, all remarkably similar, I finish off my day by doing an after school english club with my second graders. I start off this club by asking them how they are. For the next ten minutese, I hear a variety of responses............ "I'm hungry!" What do you want to eat? "Pizza and teacher Chris!"......................."I'm hungry!" What do you want to eat? "Ice cream, 100 scoops!"..........."I'm sad." Why? "May hit me!" (imitates action, everbody laughs)........................."I'm sad." Why? "My grandmother died." (me...*blinking*...."sorry")............................."I'm happy" Why? "I love conversation." ................"I'm happy." Why? "I see Teacher Chris is Monkey!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We then do the most dramatic reenactment of Jack and Jill ever, and play their favorite game ever: Four corners. Each corner of the room is asigned a word. I close my eyes, and tell them to do an action...run, skip, shop, shave. When I say stop, they must stay in their corner. I say one name of one corner. Whoever is in that corner is out. This continues until their are only a few left in the game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We play random games for the rest of class. The Thai teacher in class ends it five minutes early. 75% of the class grabs their backpacks and screams out the door. The rest stick around to plead their case for stickers. After giving the worthy ones stickers, I head back to my office, put my tennis shoes back on, and head to the outdoor cafeteria for some Thai food. After seeing that the food is not edible for a person with functional taste buds, I head to the gym, and stop by Subway for some food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Gym&lt;br /&gt;Upon entering the gay club masquerading as a gym, I am bombarded by techno mixes of the worst songs known to man. The gym teams with people. There are gym-certified trainiers in red polos and popped collars hovering, hoping somebody will hire them to help them magically become fit. The music is not the only thing I am bombarded with. In the locker, which is always stuffed with people, I learn that Thais definitely prefer skimpy briefs to boxers. Outside the locker, I face the shortest man-shorts I have ever seen, people working out in jeans and dress shoes, and a rash of "men" with FABulously styled hair. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I work out with my buddy, buy a fresh young coconut for 60 cents, catch a hot, crowded bus back home. I spend between 3 and 4 dollars on a delicious dinner with friends, poke around on the internet for too long, and go to bed at least one hour later than I should. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that, only slightly embellished and generalized for the sake of your amusement, is my average day in Bangkok. I spend my average weekends playing basketball, going to church, and mybe doing a bit of volunteering. (This past weekend I spent some time with a refugee from Sri Lanka)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-610487327930063686?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/610487327930063686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-routine.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/610487327930063686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/610487327930063686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/02/my-routine.html' title='My routine'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-1831421832380816405</id><published>2010-01-12T06:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-12T06:27:03.148-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year Part 2</title><content type='html'>Continuing things I learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I can survive: &lt;br /&gt;      a. a room the size of a walk in closet&lt;br /&gt;                  b. A shower/bathroom, the size of a linen closet, with no tub, curtain, or medicine cabinet&lt;br /&gt;                  c. . A shower/bathroom, the size of a linen closet, with no shower, toilet, or medicine cabinet&lt;br /&gt;                  d. Without live sports&lt;br /&gt;                  e. An ulcer&lt;br /&gt;                  f. Eating a grasshopper, and whole red hot chili pepper, soon after discovering I had an ulcer.&lt;br /&gt;                  g. Applying to 13 law schools while in Thailand&lt;br /&gt;                  h. Without a kitchen&lt;br /&gt;                  i. Street food&lt;br /&gt;                  j. Motorcycle taxis&lt;br /&gt;                  k. Cambodia&lt;br /&gt;                  l. Burma&lt;br /&gt;                  m. Isaan&lt;br /&gt;                  n. The revenge of the spicy Thai food&lt;br /&gt;                  o. Caroling through a red light district.&lt;br /&gt;                  p. Jet lag to end all jet lag&lt;br /&gt;                  q. Working the 7:45 to 4:30.&lt;br /&gt;                  r. Potentially malaria and dengue fever carrying mosquitos&lt;br /&gt;                  s. living in a country where I am wholly ignorant of the language. &lt;br /&gt;                  t. monkeys&lt;br /&gt;                  u. without protein powder&lt;br /&gt;                  v. a buzz haircut&lt;br /&gt;                  w. without four eggs before I go to bed&lt;br /&gt;                  x. Having to be an entertainer&lt;br /&gt;                  y. Without decent health insurance.&lt;br /&gt;                  z. Teaching crazy second graders&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-1831421832380816405?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/1831421832380816405/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-part-2.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1831421832380816405'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1831421832380816405'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-part-2.html' title='New Year Part 2'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-4575537665968147395</id><published>2010-01-10T04:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-10T05:01:59.542-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year Part 1</title><content type='html'>So a New Year doesn't really change much. Theoretically, it's foolish to wait until Jan. 1 to make new resolutions that could better your life. But it does provide an artificially good time to reflect on the old year, and look forward to the new. Let's start with....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things I've learned:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I get along better, and meet people better from foreign countries than from my own. For some reason, I assume they are friendler--making myself more friendly (Haiti trip, trip to Thailand)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Traditional church in America has failed. They focus on doctrinal differences, superficial things that make attendance higher, and building bigger buildings. White, Christian America has hidden themselves from the poor in America, so they don't have to deal with guilt of not helping them. This is just touching the iceberg of the deficiencies. (Trip to Haiti, attending Church Under the Bridge, attending New Song, reading the news)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I love the energy kids have. Fear and pain steal away the excitement for life. (Haiti, teaching at my Thai school)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a few days, I'll post things I've learned.....I can survive. (I know you all have short attention spans, and I want to create the illusion that I blog semi-consistently.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-4575537665968147395?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/4575537665968147395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-part-1.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4575537665968147395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4575537665968147395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2010/01/new-year-part-1.html' title='New Year Part 1'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-1792682147556513952</id><published>2009-12-20T04:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-09T03:32:58.195-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holidays</title><content type='html'>So I've been terribly delinquent with my blog. Sorry. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a good Christmas in Bangkok. I definitely missed my family, but I had about three days straight of Christmas parties, so I didn't feel lonely. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;New Year's, I went up to Northern Thailand (Chang Mai, Chang Rai, and Mae Sai). I FINALLY rode on a elephant, went rafting, and went to some flower festivals. More than anything, it was a chance to get away from the pollution, heat, and chaos of Bangkok. I also met some really cool people, from a really cool organization, called YWAM. Internet is rough here right now. Check facebook for pictures.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-1792682147556513952?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/1792682147556513952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/12/holidays.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1792682147556513952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1792682147556513952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/12/holidays.html' title='Holidays'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-6432549321326517683</id><published>2009-11-12T05:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-12T06:09:08.614-08:00</updated><title type='text'>bangkokimprov.wordpress.com</title><content type='html'>Check out bangkokimprov.wordpress.com for videos me doing improv.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-6432549321326517683?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/6432549321326517683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/11/bangkokimprovwordpresscom.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6432549321326517683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6432549321326517683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/11/bangkokimprovwordpresscom.html' title='bangkokimprov.wordpress.com'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-9214432586578706079</id><published>2009-11-12T04:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-17T06:22:51.540-08:00</updated><title type='text'>2nd grade story</title><content type='html'>Tears were shed in one of my classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the girls, let's call her Jen, is the most popular girl in the entire school. She's mixed (Western/Thai), so that automatically makes you more popular here. Plus, she's kind, socially and mentally intelligent, a great singer, and assertive. She has a bunch of lackey's that basically follow her around the school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyhow, in class, I was going over the idea of ______has a _______. I would let the students fill in the blanks, then draw a picture of their sentence.  One of the sentences they created was, "Jen has a pencil," and one of Jen's lackeys, Ploy, came up to draw a picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this lackey happens to have a sense of humor, and started drawing Jen with big, buggy eyes. Jen gave a look of extreme perturbation. Ploy didn't notice, and moved straight to the mouth, where she drew a goofy smile and massive buckteeth. The fact that Jen's real face was now permanently buried in her forearms tipped me off that she wasn't in on the joke, so I told Ploy to stop, and quickly erased the HILARIOUS picture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I changed the sentence to _____is in a_______ and asked for the another student to fill in the blank. Jen's most adoring lackey, Wan, quickly shot her hand up with "Ploy." When I asked for the next blank, she whirled around, shot a look of venom at Ploy, and said a word in Thai. I have no idea what it meant, but I don't think it was nice. I definitely didn't ask Wan to draw a picture of the sentence. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rest of class, I could see the a look of regret in Ploy's eyes. She had dared to poke at the holy socially status of Queen Jen, and could sense the social scorn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I taught a bit more, then worksheet time came along. Thankfully, Ploy and Jen are excellent students, so they whizzed through their worksheets. I walked over to Ploy and asked her how she felt about the picture she drew of Jen.(Thank God she spoke some English). She sorrowfully said that she thought it was just a joke, and informed me that she was sorry. She affirmed that she wanted to apologize to Jen, so I called Jen over. As Ploy apologized, her eyes welled up with cleansing tears, and she soon deteriorated to the point that she could only nod or shake her head. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished off the ritual by letting Melanie know that when she was sad, Ploy was sad. (I should have yelled at Wan, and made her apologize too, but that occurred to me too late.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I walked into school the next day, I saw Ploy and Jen playing together---all anger and sorrows forgotten---I love the transient sadness of little kids. In some ways the story shows how grown up they are. The seven year olds share kindred needs and insecurities with twenty-five year olds.  But they forget their worries and animosities much quicker, and their spirit always drifts back towards joy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-9214432586578706079?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/9214432586578706079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/11/2nd-grade.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/9214432586578706079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/9214432586578706079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/11/2nd-grade.html' title='2nd grade story'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-6803385345065932172</id><published>2009-11-08T00:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-11-08T00:59:28.018-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Isaan</title><content type='html'>I recently went to Isaan, Thailand. Through New Song, I had met two sisters who had moved from a poor, remote village in Isaan to Bangkok in hopes of earning more money for their family. They had managed to find jobs, but their aging parents’ house was now decrepit, and in danger of collapsing. The house needed to be torn down and rebuilt. Though seemingly daunting, the house was dilapidated enough that tearing it down was easy, and Isaan “houses” are simple enough that they can be rebuilt in a few days. About twenty of us gathered a few tools, and made the ten hour journey to Isaan to take care of their parents. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The poverty in the remote village was just as stark as the poverty in Haiti. There was no running water or refrigeration. Children had only one or two pairs of clothes. Many children’s parents had died an early death, and I could see weary and pain in the eyes of the adults. But with the pains of poverty came the harmony of community. The lack of running water, refrigeration, and clothes were a trivial part of every day life. The children whose parents were gone had aunts, uncles, and grandparents who loved them like their own. Pain had wearied the adults in the community, but they still had the heart to come together as a community and help those in the direst need. To be able to help these people, and see their joy and thankfulness towards us was a thrill. I was blessed to be able to help them.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-6803385345065932172?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/6803385345065932172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/11/isaan.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6803385345065932172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6803385345065932172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/11/isaan.html' title='Isaan'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-499126054784433780</id><published>2009-10-18T07:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-24T11:00:14.273-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live Update</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_uOyyq3I/AAAAAAAAAEo/9MSb3hLMcPs/s1600-h/Isaan+066.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_uOyyq3I/AAAAAAAAAEo/9MSb3hLMcPs/s320/Isaan+066.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396226841997650802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_tpxGbtI/AAAAAAAAAEg/b9p-gf5yhfc/s1600-h/Isaan+046.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_tpxGbtI/AAAAAAAAAEg/b9p-gf5yhfc/s320/Isaan+046.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396226832058445522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_s8lIEBI/AAAAAAAAAEY/uewjIscpmwo/s1600-h/Isaan+023.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_s8lIEBI/AAAAAAAAAEY/uewjIscpmwo/s320/Isaan+023.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396226819928625170" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_sjneyPI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Az83g_bBfTE/s1600-h/Isaan+019.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_sjneyPI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/Az83g_bBfTE/s320/Isaan+019.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396226813227616498" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_sGtnnlI/AAAAAAAAAEI/pOVy8vF5_hA/s1600-h/Isaan+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_sGtnnlI/AAAAAAAAAEI/pOVy8vF5_hA/s320/Isaan+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396226805468733010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I will of COURSE finish my much anticipated "Into the Wild" series, with lots of pictures to boot. But, I figured I'd give you an update on what I'm doing RIGHT NOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Right now, I'm sitting on a beach in Railay---one of the most beautiful beaches in Krabi, Thailand. We got here yesterday afternoon, and spent the day relaxing at the beach. We found a nice restaurant with a view of the beach. We saw the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen seen----the whole sky just filled with different different shades of blue, pin and orange. The texture was the glistening I see in pictures of the Northern lights. All this was framed by the jungle-covered limestone cliff that jut out of the water around this later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll post pictures later. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today, I spent the morning playing at the beach, and then we chartered a longboat to take us on an island adventure. I snorkeled for the first time in my life. I was told it was "self-explanatory," and started out a little rough, trying to get used to the mask. Every time I went out under, I got a mouthful of salt water.....all this while furiously treading water with my flippers (I still wasn't accustomed to the ease with which you can use your flippers). It was especially frustrating because I kept catching glimpses of the clear water, and beautiful fish.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took me about twenty minutes to master the art of floating on top of the water, with my eyes IN the water, and my snorkel OUT.  I finally did though, and it was AMAZING. We snorkeled at two different coral reefs, and saw a ton of "tiger fish," colorful fish with tigerfish. I was also able to some mini-swordfish, and other fish you only see in fish tanks in the states.&lt;br /&gt;What was especially amazing was the coral. It came in call shapes, colors, and sizes, with menacing, black sea urchins thrown in.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After snorkeling we relaxed on a tropical island. We were the only ones on the white and beach. Everywhere we turned deserved a picture. The water was five different shades of natural blue---the kind you can only appreciate in person--not through paintings and pictures. We were surrounded, at various distances, by limestone, cliffs, islands, and on the horizon, it seemed like mountains. Our guide brought us shrimp-green curry from the mainland. We watched the sunset, and were off to our final adventure:  Phosphorescent swimming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was night, and our guide took us to a secluded corner of a limestone cliff. I thought it was a bit odd, as we drew near, that the waves from the boat appeared white. The white was from the luminous plankton. We leaped into the water, and and our jump created a splash of white. We glowed. Every movement we made created a white, glowing wave of white. We made snow angels in the water. We'd throw our hands out of the water, and their would be little, fleeting white dots. It was like we were creating millions of mini-fireflies. And sorry, but the camera couldn't capture ANY of this amazingness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You will just have to come. After all, this whole snorkeling-deserted island-phosphorescent swimming- cost me a whopping $25 USD. So seriously. Come.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-499126054784433780?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/499126054784433780/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/10/live-update.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/499126054784433780'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/499126054784433780'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/10/live-update.html' title='Live Update'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SuM_uOyyq3I/AAAAAAAAAEo/9MSb3hLMcPs/s72-c/Isaan+066.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-7832659582712381685</id><published>2009-10-12T00:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-12T02:22:24.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Into the wild, part 1</title><content type='html'>The first half of the school year has come to an end, which means........VACATION! My plan was basically divided into three parts: 1. Go to Laos to visit a sustainable coffee farm. 2. Go to Isaan Thailand, and tear down, then build a new house. 3. Beach. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the first step was actually leaving Bangkok. I was trying to work on law school applications, and figured I should get my ulcer taken care of before I went off on my own in the third world.... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Finally, at 10:30 PM, I got on the BTS (Sky train), hoping there would be a bus waiting for me at the bus station....that I thought was at the Mo Chit BTS station. As I walked around the BTS station, I soon realized that the bus station was not AT the Mo Chit stop. I didn't see any taxis around, and figured I would take a moto-cy. Midway through the longer than expected ride. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Usually moto-cy's disregard speed limits, stop-lights, the direction of traffic, sidewalks, and physics. Midway through this ride, I found myself thinking that this was an extra-exciting moto-cy ride. Then I remembered the 50 lb. bag I had on my back. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I am alive and writing this, you already know I survived the moto-cy ride. I also managed to catch both the bus and some z's, and got into Ubonratchathani (Thai border city with Laos) at 9:30 the next morning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Ubon, I met a very friendly Tuk-Tuk driver, who spoke a decent ammount of english....he showed me an internet cafe, good place to eat, then drove me to a Tesco so I could buy a jacket (I was told Laos might be cold). At the bus station i gave 25% more than the price he gave me....he then asked for a 50% increase....but it left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth after what had been a positive experience, but regardless--it wasn't much money, and I was off to Laos!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-7832659582712381685?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/7832659582712381685/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/10/into-wild-part-1.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/7832659582712381685'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/7832659582712381685'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/10/into-wild-part-1.html' title='Into the wild, part 1'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-2328799798148438329</id><published>2009-10-02T01:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-03T06:56:34.085-07:00</updated><title type='text'>mosquito</title><content type='html'>So I've generally been pretty positive about Bangkok. After all, I'm a positive person. One of the downsides though, is the mosquitos. They're everywhere, and sneaky little buggers. I swear the bugs here are higher evolved than in the states. Both mosquitos and ants seem faster, and have these crazy, unpredictable patterns of movement that makes them hard to kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and by everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE. I have a room on the 3rd floor of an apartment complex. I never open the windows, and maybe walk outside on my "balcony," two or three times a week. And yes, I periodically see mosquitos in my room--my domain. And it's so frustrating...I just see this floating insect, and all of a sudden, it's gone, camoflauged among the many background colors my room provides. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I happen to have an egg-boiler in my room. It's rather small, and can fit about three eggs in it. I boiled some eggs in it, but left the lid off, and water in it for a couple of days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You guessed it, I found a mosquito larvae IN MY egg-boiler. I'm declaring war on mosquitos, which makes me totally empathize with America's war on terrorists. You can kill so many, but they always seem to be even more. The buggers know how to hide too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-2328799798148438329?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/2328799798148438329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/10/mosquito.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/2328799798148438329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/2328799798148438329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/10/mosquito.html' title='mosquito'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-35254159813130085</id><published>2009-09-30T09:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-30T09:10:29.745-07:00</updated><title type='text'>books</title><content type='html'>So I'm keeping it one post a day, but I didn't promise they'd all be exciting--I went to an english used bookstore that's about a ten minute walk from my apartment, so for my vacation, I'm reading "The Tempting of America" by Robert Bork. For people who enjoy legal reading (Not nearly tittilating as it sounds. The cover definitely gives it away:)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsOBn0KeusI/AAAAAAAAAEA/NjIxQC2etrA/s1600-h/6c396b2ce58354859794a6f5051434d414f4541.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 131px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsOBn0KeusI/AAAAAAAAAEA/NjIxQC2etrA/s200/6c396b2ce58354859794a6f5051434d414f4541.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387292100282727106" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also reading "Freakonomics," by Stephen Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. So far tha'ts been a real interesting read----that's definitely more interesting to more people than the Bork book.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-35254159813130085?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/35254159813130085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/books.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/35254159813130085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/35254159813130085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/books.html' title='books'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsOBn0KeusI/AAAAAAAAAEA/NjIxQC2etrA/s72-c/6c396b2ce58354859794a6f5051434d414f4541.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-7745381526198739439</id><published>2009-09-29T04:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-29T05:01:23.656-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salsa Dancing</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsH2TNhm5SI/AAAAAAAAAD4/auTMCk0Q5wM/s1600-h/P9040444.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsH2TNhm5SI/AAAAAAAAAD4/auTMCk0Q5wM/s320/P9040444.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386857439220393250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsH2SmeldrI/AAAAAAAAADw/5boindq5lXA/s1600-h/P9040442.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsH2SmeldrI/AAAAAAAAADw/5boindq5lXA/s320/P9040442.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386857428738733746" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the other Saturday night I went salsa dancing with friends. This was a really good idea for me. Salsa dancing's pluses are that it can be cultured, beautiful, passionate, and just plain fun. It's negatives are that the DJ MIGHT play ranchero.....and it requires weird things like rhythm, beat, and coordination of the feet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good time though---even if I spent most of the time watching those who WERE very good practice their trade. Here are some pics&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsHzGmXwUbI/AAAAAAAAADg/eoZtHFpyAoU/s1600-h/P9040438.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsHzGmXwUbI/AAAAAAAAADg/eoZtHFpyAoU/s320/P9040438.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386853924016771506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsHzGPDhxdI/AAAAAAAAADY/UGU7_vETND0/s1600-h/P9040434.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsHzGPDhxdI/AAAAAAAAADY/UGU7_vETND0/s320/P9040434.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386853917757916626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-7745381526198739439?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/7745381526198739439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/salsa-dancing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/7745381526198739439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/7745381526198739439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/salsa-dancing.html' title='Salsa Dancing'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsH2TNhm5SI/AAAAAAAAAD4/auTMCk0Q5wM/s72-c/P9040444.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-6759798523596292756</id><published>2009-09-28T01:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T18:19:51.998-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A very special drawing</title><content type='html'>Here is proof of how much my 2nd graders love me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsB3KB_vaxI/AAAAAAAAADQ/fiBrGnv0qI0/s1600-h/drawing+and+lizard+010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsB3KB_vaxI/AAAAAAAAADQ/fiBrGnv0qI0/s400/drawing+and+lizard+010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386436168553294610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can't see the drawing, it's of two people who LOOK like women. One is smaller with lines emitting radially from the outline of the body, and the other looks like a witch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her very special notes (which are hard to read) say--"This is Chris," and "Chris, you are fat." Suffice to say, I was very proud of her english abilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She even made a point of pointing to the witchy looking lady and saying, "This is you." I don't exactly know why there are two drawings, or what the lines coming out of the first one is. (One of my co-workers kindly suggested it was odor.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(And yeah, I get plenty of  "I love Teacher Chris" but they aren't nearly as funny as this.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edit: I've decided that she wasn't satisfied with the hideousness of the first drawing, so she decided to draw a much-improved second)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-6759798523596292756?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/6759798523596292756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/very-special-drawing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6759798523596292756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6759798523596292756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/very-special-drawing.html' title='A very special drawing'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SsB3KB_vaxI/AAAAAAAAADQ/fiBrGnv0qI0/s72-c/drawing+and+lizard+010.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-6739054600659149430</id><published>2009-09-27T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T09:18:26.680-07:00</updated><title type='text'>postcards</title><content type='html'>If you want a postcard, give me your mailing address, and I'll send you one. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and as usual, I have been very delinquent in posts. But I have a goal:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1 blog per day through Friday, when I leave for Laos.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-6739054600659149430?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/6739054600659149430/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/postcards.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6739054600659149430'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6739054600659149430'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/09/postcards.html' title='postcards'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-3827879284803055176</id><published>2009-08-30T01:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T03:41:38.555-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Confession</title><content type='html'>My faith is founded more on ideas than moments. I rest in the profoundly Christian ideas that evil will be transformed to good, that the highest calling is to die for another, and that man can only be fulfilled through emptying himself and being filled by God.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, as profound as these ideas are, I don't have the experiences to match. When I hear people talk about being a Christian, I usually hear about FEELINGS--especially feeling the presence of God. The number of times that ideas, thoughts about Christianity have really clicked and been meaningful are too many for me to count. But the FEELING of Christianity---the true sensation of the power of God, well, I only dream about it&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Lead up to the Moment&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, there is one moment that I cling to, that drives me in my aspiration to experience oneness with Christ. It was the spring break of 2008, on a mission trip to a long-term drug and alcohol rehab center. The differences between the group of college students who had been living the Baylor bubble, and a group addicts who had being living the streets appeared monumental. When people from such different come together, an inherent seperation exists, making impact difficult. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In light of this, in the weeks leading up to the departure, the leaders of the group challenged us to look within ourselves for our own addictions. They gave us a book that challenged us to believe that addicctions were not merely chemical, but rather attachments and habits, &lt;em&gt;habits of living&lt;/em&gt; that impeded our walk with Christ.  As we prepared to go, we met together, and prayed to discover what addictions we had that took away from Christ living in us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was convicted by the role laziness/sloth/apathy played in my life. Throughout my life, I had always sought ease and relaxation, be it TV, video games, magazines, or internet. I preferred it to work, and aggressively sought relaxation, much to the retardation of the growth of myself and my relationships. I began to make a concerted effort to leave sloth. The combination of a busy school schedule, confession of my sin to the group, and a lot of prayer-journaling allowed me to be "sloth free" for sixteen days leading up to our trip.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent the first days working on various projects around the center (building a wall, painting, putting up curtains). I was struck by the intense humility of all the men in the community. They had reached the lowest of lows, and there was no hiding who they were. They were drug addicts, incapable of solving their addiction on their own. They had given up on themselves and become BROKEN. Through this emptiness, they became full of God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The Moment&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day in chapel we had a chance to share who we were. I confessed my sin to them. Their addictions had been more publicly visable and chastised, but we all had profound imediments that prevented us from living like Christ. For the first time in my life, I was living in the light. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everyone was living in the light, and loving each other. We didn't do anything extraordinary that week, but everything felt extraordinary. We were experiencing the power of God. After one chapel, I was so overcome with indescribable emotion that I just had to get away, and sit alone for a while. I had never experienced a soul-moving a experience before.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last night we were there, the guys shared how much it meant to them that we had come there. One talked about the fact that it "brought tears to his eyes" that we paid money to go and visit them for our spring break. Others talked about how they had been a bit reluctant to see us come, but that after spending time with us, they were so greatful at having experienced our love, and that we had changed their lives.  Another, who had been unable to interact with us said that just through watching us, "You taught me how to love." More than anything,  they shared that they had seen the love of Jesus THROUGH us. To hear them say that, and to do that, was such a humbling experience. I had to kind of bask in thankfulness and brokenness before God, that he had allowed us to be a vessel of his love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The End&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was it. I lived off the high of the experience for a week. I had been, "sloth free," for sixteen days before my arrival at the rehab center. I lasted only a few more weeks before I was back on the internet, filling myself with USELESS information. It seems almost every day I swear I will not waste hours doing worthless thingss, and every day, I fail again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm left searching, hoping, praying to find or create a community of humility, openness and brokenness that I had in New York for those few days. I really don't know where to start. I know it involves brokenness before God, confession before man, and accountability and love from a community of fellow broken people. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also goes full circle back to the habits of life. I am not comfortable confessing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I find refuge the pen. Maybe this is the beginning. I want to feel God again. &lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-3827879284803055176?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/3827879284803055176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-confession.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/3827879284803055176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/3827879284803055176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-confession.html' title='Confession'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-1617047005397383784</id><published>2009-08-28T01:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-28T09:37:34.376-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A pretty good day in the life of Chris the teacher</title><content type='html'>So today I decided to keep a sort of "running diary," of one day of school. It was a Monday, which meant it was a pretty easy day (No scheduled classes to start the day, only four classes all day). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least, I thought I had four classes. A teacher who had been on vacation for a week called in "sick," so i taught sixth grade with the normal sixth grade teacher. (They like to have two teachers for every 40 students. This was the oldest group I had taught. (I teacher 2nd grade, 4th grade, and Kindergarten), but in contrast to the younger kids, they were gigglier than all get out. It was definitely still fun teaching them. They can understand much more of what I am saying, so it lets you connect on a higher level with them....interestingly, they also seemed a bit more eager for fun than the fourth graders---who are beginning to become sceptical about adults, but have not yet hit the age where a novel male triggers attention.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other notes from the day, from my second grade classes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks ago, I got a significant haircut--A friend of mine cut my hair with a razor, on "4." It got a bit shaggy (sticking up in the back, coming forward in the front), so after procrastinating, I went to a real barber, and figured I'd get it a little shorter. It turns out 3 at a barber shop is MUCH shorter than 4 from a friend. I definitely have a sort of "shaved" look going.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, when I walked into all my classes this morning, my hair set off laughter. The rest of this week, the girls have been coming up to me, putting their knuckles on their hair, and saying, "Bzzzzzzzzz." One of the better English speaking ones asked, "WHHYY you cut your HAIR?" I responded, "What you don't like it." --to which she said, "NOOO!!!!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I introduced a new game, where students listened to me, as to whether to stand up or sit down. The trick was using hand motions to confuse them. The loved the game. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my last class, when one student was doing something I DEFINITELY did not want them doing (I don't remember what it was), I said No, no, MAI CHAI (No, in Thai). As soon as I said "Mai Chai," the whole class gave me a standing ovation. (They also gave me another one later, when I said something in an "operatic" voice.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished off the school day teaching conversation club to 4th graders. I gave them all a place and they had to act it out. They realllly enjoy performing---the classroom got pretty loud as they prepared their skits. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I finished off the day going to the gym, eating cashew chicken on rice, and spending too much time on the internet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Might post pictures later of my hair over the past 4 years.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-1617047005397383784?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/1617047005397383784/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/pretty-day-in-life-of-chris-teacher.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1617047005397383784'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1617047005397383784'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/pretty-day-in-life-of-chris-teacher.html' title='A pretty good day in the life of Chris the teacher'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-8984719551223457094</id><published>2009-08-25T16:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-25T16:57:12.534-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Video of one of my 2nd graders</title><content type='html'>Here's a video of one of my 2nd graderswith her 3 year old sister. Whe was handing out these pieces of paper to everyone yesterday, so we could see her youtube clip. She's one of the smartest girls i have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jBxr2ZBJDNE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-8984719551223457094?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/8984719551223457094/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/video-of-one-of-my-2nd-graders.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/8984719551223457094'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/8984719551223457094'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/video-of-one-of-my-2nd-graders.html' title='Video of one of my 2nd graders'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-1989134014654429414</id><published>2009-08-24T06:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-24T07:45:39.620-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sum up</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKna4zlJSI/AAAAAAAAADA/cEI8h3AvVXc/s1600-h/P7250416.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKna4zlJSI/AAAAAAAAADA/cEI8h3AvVXc/s320/P7250416.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373541385773589794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnaZGss7I/AAAAAAAAAC4/z_FTBHbLSzE/s1600-h/P7250410.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnaZGss7I/AAAAAAAAAC4/z_FTBHbLSzE/s320/P7250410.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373541377263842226" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnZ0ylqoI/AAAAAAAAACw/YbGaNlxAUfY/s1600-h/P7250412.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnZ0ylqoI/AAAAAAAAACw/YbGaNlxAUfY/s320/P7250412.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373541367515818626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnZPSfZ5I/AAAAAAAAACo/_prNhSVhxhI/s1600-h/P7240398.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnZPSfZ5I/AAAAAAAAACo/_prNhSVhxhI/s320/P7240398.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373541357449078674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnYhMTTCI/AAAAAAAAACg/XU0ur9IJVwg/s1600-h/P7240393.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKnYhMTTCI/AAAAAAAAACg/XU0ur9IJVwg/s320/P7240393.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373541345075088418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I've been really delinquent, as usual, in my blog posting--I should be doing more than once a month. Here's a summary of what I've been up to in the past two months. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was able to start doing some volunteer work in July. I went with In Search of Sanuk (www.insearchofsanuk.com). The orphanage was beautiful. They have a ton of land--just not the resources to come even close to fully optimizing it capacity. We were able to stay in comfy beds (better than the concrete slab in my apartment), and it had AC (you learn to REALLY appreciate this in Bangkok). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Working with the kids was different than usual. Keep in mind, I have a lot of experience hanging out with kids--working at Adaptive Recreation Camp (Camp for disabled kids), volunteering for three years at Waco Center for Youth (Home for emotionally disturbed teens), and volunteering in Haiti (Yeah, technically I was building a school and working on at health clinic--but the majority of the time I was just playing with kids). And shoot, I spend almost 50 hours a week working with kids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These kids were different than any kids I had seen before. They had a weird combination of inhibition and non chalance that I had never seen large scale, with kids before. When they saw us, they didn't seek interaction. Throughout the day, they were content to play among themselves, and go about their normal actions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong--we played with the kides on Saturday---they adored the arts and crafts Girl Chris brought, and they played a hybrid rugby-monkey in the middle-catch-wrestling game. (Bringing the football was definitely a great idea). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But you could tell something was missing, and Sunday morning really highlighted the difference. Some of the kids who go to church on the grounds of the orphanage hung out with us afterwards. Once they saw we we're down for "sanuk" with them, they immediately ENGAGED, asking for songs, enthusiastically playing games with us. I asked Dwight (who lead the trip) if they were orphans--and he said no---their parents had brought them to church. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So obviously, parents make a difference. Kids need love. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the bright side--Sunday afternoon, we were able to take them to the beach at Pattaya. One at a time, I took some of the younger boys hostage, carried them out into the ocean on my back, and threw  them around in the waves. Their squeals of joy were the highlight of the trip. I wasn't difference-making, but sometimes you have to be content with giving the temporary gift of happiness.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-1989134014654429414?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/1989134014654429414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/sum-up.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1989134014654429414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1989134014654429414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/sum-up.html' title='Sum up'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SpKna4zlJSI/AAAAAAAAADA/cEI8h3AvVXc/s72-c/P7250416.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-7298262811075317205</id><published>2009-08-02T00:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T00:38:17.396-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More pics from Cambodia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCE83mfKI/AAAAAAAAACY/-OvN2eJ9_M4/s1600-h/P7040292.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCE83mfKI/AAAAAAAAACY/-OvN2eJ9_M4/s320/P7040292.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365267183908060322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCEsMaq4I/AAAAAAAAACQ/nxuAVOz3X9w/s1600-h/P7040367.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCEsMaq4I/AAAAAAAAACQ/nxuAVOz3X9w/s320/P7040367.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365267179431963522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCEBMWARI/AAAAAAAAACI/mLvF7UjRvMc/s1600-h/P7040359.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCEBMWARI/AAAAAAAAACI/mLvF7UjRvMc/s320/P7040359.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365267167888933138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCDm4F38I/AAAAAAAAACA/2rkTOINU3B4/s1600-h/P7040280.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCDm4F38I/AAAAAAAAACA/2rkTOINU3B4/s320/P7040280.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365267160824668098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCDBsBMwI/AAAAAAAAAB4/uiNAkkj2UTI/s1600-h/P7040188.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCDBsBMwI/AAAAAAAAAB4/uiNAkkj2UTI/s320/P7040188.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365267150841918210" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-7298262811075317205?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/7298262811075317205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/more-pics-from-cambodia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/7298262811075317205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/7298262811075317205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/more-pics-from-cambodia.html' title='More pics from Cambodia'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnVCE83mfKI/AAAAAAAAACY/-OvN2eJ9_M4/s72-c/P7040292.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-8529101845680333266</id><published>2009-08-01T22:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T00:27:19.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cambodia</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzDoa43_I/AAAAAAAAABw/gj-_ifuZUqw/s1600-h/P7040253.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzDoa43_I/AAAAAAAAABw/gj-_ifuZUqw/s320/P7040253.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365250668564635634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzDGiaJMI/AAAAAAAAABo/x7PpTvX9kWQ/s1600-h/P7030155.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzDGiaJMI/AAAAAAAAABo/x7PpTvX9kWQ/s320/P7030155.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365250659469370562" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzC1i-EOI/AAAAAAAAABg/QgCVnDq6-xk/s1600-h/P7040167.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzC1i-EOI/AAAAAAAAABg/QgCVnDq6-xk/s320/P7040167.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365250654908322018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzCaUtLZI/AAAAAAAAABY/vKd0ToepPSI/s1600-h/P7040181.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzCaUtLZI/AAAAAAAAABY/vKd0ToepPSI/s320/P7040181.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365250647600737682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzCJRbHtI/AAAAAAAAABQ/KKCOKfforp0/s1600-h/P7030151.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzCJRbHtI/AAAAAAAAABQ/KKCOKfforp0/s320/P7030151.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5365250643023568594" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The swine flue is out in full force in BKK, and the height of the scare happened in Late June and early July. My school was cancelled for a week, and that dovetailed into the Buddhist holiday from July 6-8, so I had REALLY long break from class. A big group from Baylor decided to go to Cambodia to see Angkor Wat, considered THE wonder of Southeast Asia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting there was an adventure. Instead of taking the quicker, air conditioned bus, we elected to take the slower and cheaper open-air train. We arrived at the train station at 4:30 in the morning to ensure that we got tickets. I had stayed up packing until 12 the night before, so was fantastically tired, and questioning whether we really needed to get to the train station an hour before leaving. It was definitely worth it. I was blessed to get an incredibly comfortable seat (-it was as if we were sitting in first class, as opposed to on the wooden benches) Not only that, but the train began to fill to capacity----and a large number of people had to stand in the hot, stuffy train for hours. The train got so packed that you had to part the sea of people to get out of your seat and walk through the car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting to Siam Reap (Where Angkor Wat is located) proved even more adventurous. Cambodia is one of the poorest countries in the world, so when they see white people, they see dollar signs. I could write pages on the  people doing anything they could to try to tap into us as a source of income. "Government buses" taking you to Siam Reap for cheap, only to a very specific, isolated hostel. Tuk-Tuks taking you to a "border crossing" out in the middle of no where, where the visa suspiciously costs twice what your guidebook says. People, ranging from amputees, to children, to new mothers, begging you for money anywhere that Westerners congregated.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through all the wading through the scams, we were able to meet a really cool couple from Switzerland that were backpacking through Southeast Asia. We rented a tuk-tuk with them to tour Angkor Wat, watched the Wimbledon final, and they even came and visited us in Bangkok this Thursday (July 30) for the conclusion of their tourr. Now I REALLY want to visit Switzerland again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Angkor Wat is like a zoo of temples. They were all very old, but they were also all very unique, some seemed to have become a part of the jungle, with massive trees growing inside of them. Others were many stories high, with steep staircases that made it feel like you were really CLIMBING stairs. Finally, Angkor Wat ITSELF (the big, famous temple) inspired awe through its sheer massiveness combined with impeccable upkeep. We finished off our tour of the temples watching the sunset at a temple on top of the mountains.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-8529101845680333266?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/8529101845680333266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/cambodia.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/8529101845680333266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/8529101845680333266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/08/cambodia.html' title='Cambodia'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/SnUzDoa43_I/AAAAAAAAABw/gj-_ifuZUqw/s72-c/P7040253.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-8102540386863394569</id><published>2009-07-19T02:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-19T16:43:42.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Cutest Second Grader in the World</title><content type='html'>The Cutest Second Grader in the World is about half the size of the other second grader. All her clothes seem are too long for her and when she sits down in the asian-child sized chairs, her feet do not touch the ground. Her eyes take up most of her face. However, the ultimate attribute is that she finds me phenomenally amusing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I have to do is look at The Cutest Second Grader in the World, and she just bursts into giggles. This can be problematic when I am trying to work with her on a  worksheet, as instead of pronouncing the letter I am pointing to, she bursts into laughter. When I was down on the main grounds recently (as opposed to sitting in the office), eating a snack with the kids on our break, she would walk up to me, I would turn and look at her, and she and a friend would run, squealing away. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However, perhaps the most amusing incident happened a while ago while we were playing “run and hit,” where I write sounds on the board, call out a sound, and the kids race to hit the corresponding letter first. During this game, I called out an evidently VERY difficult word “D-I-D,” and all four of the students representing their teams failed in their responsibility to hit the corresponding word. This caused a significant amount of hilarity, since various members of the teams DID know the answer and all yelled it out at the same. This contributed more to the noise level than to actually helping their teammates find the correct answer. After the representatives from the team had all hit wrong answers multiple times, and showed no hope of hitting the correct one, I called an end to the round. No points for anyone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cutest Second Grader in the World, happened to be one of the ones who knew the answer (This was PURE luck, she got about 9/24 on a recent listening test I gave). so she was quite upset that her teammate did not know the answer. This meant the opposing team member picked the wrong time to sass The Cutest Second Grader in the World (I have no idea what she said (obviously it was in Thai, but I’m positive it was something sassy.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Cutest Second Grader in the World pulled back her right arm and full-on slapped the girl in the face. My jaw dropped. I had not yet seen a slap by any of my second graders, yet alone one with the Cutest Second Grader in the World as its agent. I am not a very good disciplinarian, so I decided the best thing to do was to calm the WHOLE class down. I called the class to ATTENTION! And ordered the class all to take slow, deeeep, breaths. I took especial attention to see that The Cutest Second Grader in the World was following my instructions. She was not. Instead, she maintained a fierce scowl on her facce This worried me, since I did not want to see any more violence in my classroom, or even for The Cutest Second Grader in the World to leave class upset.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; I continued to demonstrate deep breaths to the class—opening my mouth wide, raising my chest, and then letting my whole posture fall, when all of a sudden The Cutest Second Grader in the World burst into laughter—not any product of my deep breaths, but rather the amusement of seeing me take deep breaths. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My students are definitely the highlight of my job. Lesson planning, pressure, and a few coworkers all add stress, but the students who you can see enjoy your lessons and you make it worth my time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-8102540386863394569?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/8102540386863394569/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/07/cutest-second-grader-in-world.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/8102540386863394569'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/8102540386863394569'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/07/cutest-second-grader-in-world.html' title='Cutest Second Grader in the World'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-3801165631710117291</id><published>2009-06-27T20:56:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-27T21:40:31.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I've found a really cool church in Bangkok called New Song. You can look them up online. They have service every Saturday night, and a really cool bible study on wednesday nights. Among the ex-pats and they have a tight mix of English teachers, and missionaries to the slums and prostitutes. About half the church is native Thai's---so it's a really cool mix. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've lost ten pounds and counting--I got a free gym membership until July (I've been using it)---and should join a gym with a couple of my buddies for the month of July. I just don't know if I'm going to be able to get enough protein here in Bangkok to stay over even 210.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My school has closed due to swine flu scares. I don't know if or how many people have had swine flu, but I get a four day vacation, which melts into the preplanned vacation from July 6-8. Pretty sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks ago, my boss asked me to sub for a kindergarten class. I wasn't exactly sure what to do, but he made me a lesson plan teaching them colors and stuff, and I can always use the money, so I went for it. I got their, and the kids looked waaaayyy younger than my 2nd graders. I introduced myself and asked them what their names were, and they just stared at me. This would be a theme for most of the class. I tried the alphabet song "Heads, shoulders, knees, and toes," and "the wheels on the bus," and "simon says," without the Simon. My record was getting maybe 2 out of 12 students to participate for about ten percent of the activity. The mainly just wanted to stare at me. One little guy just really wanted to walk underneath my legs. I swore I would never teach kindergarteners again. So when my boss called me this Thursday to sub for a kindergarten class, I naturally said--Yes. I have a hard time saying "no." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turns out the firs kindergarden class I taught was K. 1--which means they were probably 3 and 4 year olds. The kids I taught this time were at least a wopping 5 years old. It went a lot better. They might not have been able to sing along to Old Mcdonald and the wheels on the bus--but they were totally down with oinking like a pig, and throwing their arms "round and round." And EVERYONE could "put their right arm in, and shake it all about."  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta run now--we're gonna try to check out some more of Bangkok today. Next time I'll tell you about the cutest 2nd grader ever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-3801165631710117291?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/3801165631710117291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/06/ive-found-really-cool-church-in-bangkok.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/3801165631710117291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/3801165631710117291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/06/ive-found-really-cool-church-in-bangkok.html' title=''/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-6160216067229795186</id><published>2009-06-22T05:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-22T05:37:14.361-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sj96wPseBQI/AAAAAAAAABI/K3wdFWS-oGU/s1600-h/koh+samet+067.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sj96wPseBQI/AAAAAAAAABI/K3wdFWS-oGU/s320/koh+samet+067.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350129851604796674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sj96v6PMW_I/AAAAAAAAABA/Vj1hSnlxmtA/s1600-h/koh+samet+002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sj96v6PMW_I/AAAAAAAAABA/Vj1hSnlxmtA/s320/koh+samet+002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350129845844859890" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sj96vvuZ25I/AAAAAAAAAA4/pfI7iVPLWYQ/s1600-h/koh+samet+040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sj96vvuZ25I/AAAAAAAAAA4/pfI7iVPLWYQ/s320/koh+samet+040.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350129843022977938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's something I wrote June 9th. Computer difficulties prevent me from posting more now, but I will try to soon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been teaching 2nd grade girls phonics on my own for two weeks now. They spent the first 3 weeks on the short “a” sound. We spent the last two weeks on the short “i” sound. This week we are doing a much-needed review of the short “a” and “i.” They enjoy coloring, playing Simon-says, and slapping my butt. They do not particularly enjoy sounding out words with the aforementioned short vowels in them, but I have high hopes for the short “o.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Adjusting to a new city and job had worn us all down a bit, so everyone from Baylor needed the stress reliever that the tropical island of Koh Samet provided so well. We rented a couple “beach houses” about a 55 second walk from the beach for a little less than ten dollars per person, per night. The water there was a bright blue, and it was the warmest ocean water I had ever felt. It actually felt a bit cooler than Bangkok, but that’s not saying too much. (Today it was in the 90’s in Bangkok, and I can’t even imagine what the humidity level is.) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The seven of us who are contracted with Systems have all pretty much settled in two our new apartment, which is incredibly small---think small dorm room size---no kitchen or living room, but it does have a bathroom. The very bright side is that it is RIGHT next to the sky train, which is the best transportation to all of Bangkok, and also has a bevy of street vendors right outside our back door. I have fruit smoothies every night, and am trying the various omelet, rice and noodle dishes the different vendors have to offer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The people here are friendly, the shopping centers are MASSIVE, and the taxi drivers don’t speak English. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ll post later this week about my experience subbing for a kindergarten teacher. It turns out there is a big difference between kindergarten and second grade.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-6160216067229795186?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/6160216067229795186/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/06/heres-something-i-wrote-june-9th.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6160216067229795186'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6160216067229795186'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/06/heres-something-i-wrote-june-9th.html' title=''/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sj96wPseBQI/AAAAAAAAABI/K3wdFWS-oGU/s72-c/koh+samet+067.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-2890961599819966147</id><published>2009-06-12T04:42:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-06-12T04:52:25.112-07:00</updated><title type='text'>address</title><content type='html'>SYSTEM TRAINING&lt;br /&gt;THONGLOR 13&lt;br /&gt;SOI TOSAK 1&lt;br /&gt;KLONGTAN, WATTANA&lt;br /&gt;BANGKOK, THAILAND 10110&lt;br /&gt;+662-392-2154-5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my address. Throw me your's and I'll try to send you a postcard&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-2890961599819966147?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/2890961599819966147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/06/address.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/2890961599819966147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/2890961599819966147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/06/address.html' title='address'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-4344406971507403035</id><published>2009-04-26T19:21:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-26T19:30:49.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>galveston</title><content type='html'>I just got back from a short mission trip to Galveston. About 30 of us went down from Church Under The Bridge. We helped to build houses that were torn down from the hurricane of last summer. Were able to get an old lady back into the house just in time, as she was getting kicked out of her temporary living situation. We also worked at other houses (I was actually on the "demolition" team that helped to tear out the walls and ceilings of a house that had been damaged by mold. We almost completely finished that--now he just needs to rebuild it)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was very good for me for two glaring reasons: The first, and most obvious is that I was able to serve, and make a difference in someone's life. More importantly, however, I got to get to know the wonderful people of my church better. I'm a introverted and busy person, and that has prevented me from connecting my fellow attenders at Church Under the Bridge as much as I would like. Through this trip, I able to begin to establish more relationships, become a more important part of the Church Under the Bridge community. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also was introduced to some pretty cool chapters of Isaiah: 57-58.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-4344406971507403035?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/4344406971507403035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/04/galveston.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4344406971507403035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/4344406971507403035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/04/galveston.html' title='galveston'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-1516127896122699329</id><published>2009-04-04T14:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-04-04T14:25:31.185-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ruler</title><content type='html'>From Chesterton's "Orthodoxy": "If the great paradox of Christianity means anything, it means this--that we must take the crown in our hands, and go hunting in dry places and dark corners of the earth until we find the one man who feels himself unfit to wear it....we must crown the much more exceptional man who knows he can't [rule]"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why democracy in America is soooo messed up. Bunch of rich, power-hungry narcissists.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-1516127896122699329?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/1516127896122699329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/04/ruler.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1516127896122699329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/1516127896122699329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/04/ruler.html' title='Ruler'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-6829940184845401241</id><published>2009-03-25T18:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T19:40:22.858-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Two Additional Important stories from Haiti</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc7fi19U0LI/AAAAAAAAAAk/6Edgg-AG-Lc/s1600-h/IMG_4644.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc7fi19U0LI/AAAAAAAAAAk/6Edgg-AG-Lc/s320/IMG_4644.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318433999663976626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc6DvexAwhI/AAAAAAAAAAU/GjfhWeYMgx0/s1600-h/Haiti+034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc6DvexAwhI/AAAAAAAAAAU/GjfhWeYMgx0/s320/Haiti+034.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318333061706859026" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;The first comes from the short time I worked in the clinic. Since I am entirely devoid of any medical skills, they put me in the pharmacy, where I had the complex job of counting pills, and finding medicine. While I was working/waiting for work, three girls wandered to the back window of the pharmacy. I found them more interesting than the medicine, so I interacted with them some--taking pictures of them, letting them take pictures, and letting them write things in my notebook. I started getting hungry however, and took out a protein bar and started eating it. The girls stared hungrily at my food, and made it very clear that they wanted food. I had some trail mix in my bag, so I gave each of them some. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Game over. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;There was no more happy interaction, or desire to play with the camera or notebook. They continued to ask for "pistache, pistache." I had reminded them that they were hungry, and more importantly, that I might give them food. I had to do the hardest thing--not give them food. I refused to make them, and eventually the rest of their friends, beggars. As desperately as I wanted to get rid of my trail mix, I could not become the man who gave them food. (I later entrusted the bag of trail mix to the host, to use as he saw fit)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;My second story contrasts with this. Jim is a businessman who, with his wife, Sharon went on this trip with us. He and is wife came three years ago, and have become dedicated to the cause of helping the beautiful children of Haiti. In addition to raising money for the children of Haiti, he and his wife have sponsored at least two children. (Sponsoring covers the cost of going to school, and ensuring they are able to eat while they attend school)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The highlight of my trip might have been seeing the exchange of joy between the them and their two "adopted" Haitian children. Upon their first meeting there was as much or more jubilation as I had ever seen. They were able to see each other throughout the week, and each time was filled with happiness. Even the little things like gifts of english workbooks, bracelets, and time, were permeated with joy. The small ammount of money they spend to send them to school and feed them is really a priceless gift of love, for both. Indeed, I believe Jim and Sharon were even more blessed than their children. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;If you would like to go healthy, and replace soda with water and love for a Haitian child, you can send a check for $200 per child to Church Under the Bridge (who helps sponsor a school in Haiti)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;P.O.Box 323&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Waco, TX 76703&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Memo: Haiti school &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Jim and his wife work to keep sponsors updated on the progress of their children through e-mail, and you can potentially even visit the children in Haiti. We work through Jackson Nelson, a native Haitian, who is in charge of World Hunger: Haiti, and he has room to fit large groups. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Feel free to contact me if you have any questions about this, and I can put you in touch with the right people. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-6829940184845401241?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/6829940184845401241/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-important-stories-from-haiti.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6829940184845401241'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/6829940184845401241'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/03/two-important-stories-from-haiti.html' title='Two Additional Important stories from Haiti'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc7fi19U0LI/AAAAAAAAAAk/6Edgg-AG-Lc/s72-c/IMG_4644.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6169788012505811369.post-127698530468652316</id><published>2009-03-20T12:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-28T19:43:06.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Haiti</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc7gMtnx_uI/AAAAAAAAAAs/WVlHdRiDjH0/s1600-h/Haiti+077.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc7gMtnx_uI/AAAAAAAAAAs/WVlHdRiDjH0/s320/Haiti+077.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318434718980636386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc6EBRqX4HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/IczdYWURYhE/s1600-h/Haiti+004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc6EBRqX4HI/AAAAAAAAAAc/IczdYWURYhE/s320/Haiti+004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5318333367426998386" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;My time in Haiti was wild. From sleeping in airports, to filling perscriptions, to being "stranded" in Cap-haitian, and needing to be driven to a bank by a haitian driver, to seeing "The citadel," to escewing the croweded inside of the bus-truck for its roof, to eating fish whole, to bartering, it was an adventure---but I suspect I would wear out most with the entire story--so here's a very condensed version.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;The church service we attended the Sunday after we arrived was the highlight of the trip for many of us. The church building was basically a large warehouse. Their only decorations were long paper cut-outs that were draped across the ceiling of the church. They WERE fortunate enough to have generators, so they were able to have a microphone, keyboard and drums for their songs---which were beautiful. I have never heard songs sung with such passion and strength. I don't think too many of them were particularly adept at hitting the precise tune, but that didn't matter at all. The joy in the voices made the quality unimportant. They finished off the service with a perfectly executed song-and-dance by&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt; the kids--in english. I doubt they knew what they were singing, but they performed with all their hearts. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The joy I saw at the church service was not confined to a building, and defined my experience in Haiti. The threshold for happiness was so much lower in Haiti. A soccer ball and a jump rope were priceless gifts. Sticks, buckets, and metal objects were sufficient to creat a joyful "street band." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The other important things I remember from Haiti, in the order they pop in my mind:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;1. The joy of simplicity: no cell phones, computers, video games, TV's, allows you to live at peace, and focus on what really matters--what is truly fulfilling, and fosters creativity&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;2. The joy of living in a community of driven people dedicated to God.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;3. The fact that we lived in America made us seem comparably like millionairres, and therefore celebrities. (People would mingle around where we were just to look at us--kids especially were especially friendly--everyone hoped you would be generous us to give something from your wealth to help their poverty)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;4. The beauty of the sky and stars when there is no electricity in the area&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;5. The fact that I get along better, and meet people better in foreign countries than in the United States---for some reason, I assume they are friendler--making myself more friendly. (When I walked through Ferrier, I would greet just about everyone, especially the kids, with a smile and "Bonjour," or "Bonsoir," and they would almost always respond in kind--this also lead to some interesting conversations, and my favorite nickname ever "Papa Gran")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;6. Their joy in the face of hunger: Their ability to divorce their stomachs from their hearts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;7. My doubts in the church of America, that will spend so much on church buildings and administration, instead of on the hungry, especially the widow and the orphans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;8. That kids are a blast to play with, and give me energy. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;9. Haiti is a beautiful country. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;10. Seeing an albino child scarred and burned from the sun---then--right before we left--seeing another albino blessed enough to have a job at an airport. (We left clothes and sun screen for the albino child.)&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6169788012505811369-127698530468652316?l=cswrite.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/feeds/127698530468652316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/03/haiti.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/127698530468652316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6169788012505811369/posts/default/127698530468652316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://cswrite.blogspot.com/2009/03/haiti.html' title='Haiti'/><author><name>juevonate</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14950519280354064785</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PSzny15AVMg/Sc7gMtnx_uI/AAAAAAAAAAs/WVlHdRiDjH0/s72-c/Haiti+077.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
