No, Mister Frodo!

This week I hiked Gamla with my classmates.  Normally it is very dry and brown, but luckily for us winter semester kids, it looked like something out of the Lord of the Rings (see the photos below for comparison).

                

Now the following is a very realistic rendition of one of the scenes in the Lord of the Rings in which Frodo, Sam, and Gollum are having a tussle.  I'm sure you can clearly tell who is what and what is going on, but just in case you left your glasses in the other room- I'm Sam, holding back Frodo, who is being attacked by Gollum.  All centered around... a Hebrew CTR ring.  I love my friends.
   

Quick Rundown

Things that happened this week:

• I entered into a competition with a classmate to see who could win the most Freecell games in thirty minutes.  I won, completing ten games to his six.  I have seriously mixed feelings about that victory.
• I visited a ma made pond full of teeny tiny fish that eat dead skin off your feet.  I didn't believe they were actually there until I stopped treading water and felt them nip at my toes.  Within minutes, they were swarming me, and I was filled with visions of teeny fish overwhelming me and dragging my body below the water to be lost forever.  I was biting down on my towel to keep from screaming, that's how terrifying the experience was.  I wish I had a picture, or the words to describe how simultaneously gross and fascinating was the sensation (in the words of my sisters, "groscinating").  I can only describe the sensation in two ways: as if my feet were full of pop rocks, or as if my feet were experiencing intense pins and needles.  On the bright side, my feet are nice and smooth now.
• A couple of days before we left Galilee, another American tour group showed up.  That was weird. Seeing other white college kids in OUR Israeli resort during OUR semester abroad?  Who do they think they are? We hung out a little bit, but mostly avoided each other.  I don't remember how to socialize, which does not bode well for my imminent entrance into the BYU social sphere.
• I rediscovered YouTube and have spent quite a bit of time in our little bungalow, frantically downloading as much American music as I can.  

All things considered, I'm happy as a clam.

Hot, Hot, Hot

I come from a long line of sheltered, indoorsy people.  My heritage is predominantly European (with that one Native American princess thrown in there about 58 generations back), and as such, I have a very fair complexion.  That's a nice way of saying I have translucent, white as a sheet, makes me look like I have perpetual meth eyes skin.

This is something I've understood and embraced for quite some time now.  Aaaand yet... every summer I convince myself I'm immune to the sun.  This year will be different.  This year I'll rotate regularly and not burn.  Yeah, well this year I'll win the lottery and move to Cancun.  I always roast, regret my decisions, and spend the rest of the summer safely cocooned in SPF 50 sunblock

Well I'm not one to break tradition.  My first day on the beach I applied sunscreen to my face and figured I was good.  I briefly wiped off my hands onto my upper thighs and settled into a beach chair for a long afternoon of sun and sand.  At about four I started feeling a little crisp.  At five, the burn started setting in.  My face was fine.  My chest was mighty burnt.  But the best burn of all was my legs...

Like I mentioned previously, after I was done applying sunblock to my face, there was just a weensy wooney bit left on my hands, which I rubbed off onto my legs.

Four hours later, guess how my legs look?

 That white splotchy shiz is where I rubbed my hands on my legs... unburnt skin.  I honestly thought I had a rash for about forty five minutes.  Then I realized I'm just going to have the stupidest tan line in the world.  Story of my life.

Ornithophobia

Everyone's afraid of something.  It's something I like to ask people to break the ice, because the things that scare you and how you react to them are indicative of personality.  In my discussions, I like to break things down in to three categories: mental, physical, and irrational.  As far as I can tell, I have more irrational fears than mental or physical.  Dolphins are the biggest-but that's a story for another time.  The most pressing fear at the time is my irrational fear of birds.

At the moment there are three pigeons nesting in the rafters of our patio.  I didn't realize they were there until yesterday morning when I was sitting, minding my own business, and one flew down and scared the spit out of me.  Now it's Saturday morning and I've been sitting on the couch for the last hour, catching up on things, watching the same one pigeon fly down, pick up the same thin piece of wood, fly up to the rafters and drop the wood.  Then repeat after a minute or two.

I thought it was the same few twigs... until I walked outside.  Our table is covered in twigs and wood.  These stupid sky rats are bringing in nest material and littering our patio with it.  I just chased them off, but they'll be back.  Bless their hearts, they won't let a giant with a broom get in the way of building a nest on a four inch wide slab of concrete.

Really, it's their beady little eyes that seem to follow me and their flappy little wings that send me into a frenzy.  I feel like they're watching me, waiting for the opportune moment to fly into my hair and carry me away to their nest where I'll be pecked to death.  Then I remember that I'm probably at least six times bigger than most birds.  And losing my composure in public because a bird startled me is just embarrassing at my age.  

Real life photos of bird induced panic
You can't fake this stuff.

Maybe it's because my ninth grade English teacher made us watch Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds, and I still vividly remember how the birds pecked people's eyes out (mostly because the blood looked like ketchup).  Maybe it's because they really are mental bullies of the sky.  Either way, they give me the heebie jeebies and I'll be relieved to get back to my bird-less patio at the JC.

UPDATE: I swear the momma bird is STARING at me, challenging me.  If it came to a fight, I honestly think she'd win.  

Wait, This Again?

Clearly I have space dissociative problems or something.  This morning I came back in from the beach.  I popped in the bathroom, started brushing my hair, realized I was using someone else's brush and stopped.  I came out of the bathroom and went to the couch to grab my computer.  Alas, it wasn't there.  Nor was my iPad.  In fact, as I looked up, I realized that NONE of my things were there, namely because I was in someone else's room.  Without saying a thing or making a noise, I turned and walked out of the room.  Thankfully it was a bungalow housing my classmates, and even more thankfully, whoever was in the bedroom didn't notice me making myself at home.  They say the third time's the charm, but this is the third time this has happened this semester.  What does that mean?

My Mom Deserves the Praise on This Day (Not Me)

It's that time of year.  Time for me to write up a list, send out invitations, and buy a cake.  Yep, I'm talking about my birthday.  I didn't actually tell anyone because I get uncomfortable when people wish me happy birthday.  I don't know what it is- something about being the center of attention causes me to freeze like a deer in headlights.  It's the same awkwardness that overtakes me when people compliment me, and I almost always answer with "you too!" then uncomfortably walk away like an idiot.

Although only a small handful of people knew it was my special day, and the morning started with three solid hours of New Testament studies, my twentieth was the best birthday of my life.

I spent the afternoon swimming (read: burning on the beach like an albino in the midday July sun) in the Sea of Galilee.  I skyped my parents for the first time in months.  My classmates sang "Happy Birthday" to me in Hebrew.  I played night games at a bonfire on the beach.  I almost ruined my surprise birthday party, and was subsequently delighted by my surprise birthday party (no, but really- I love surprises).  Finally, I ended the night with sparklers on the beach.

I'm 100% freaked out that I'm not any kind of teenager anymore, but 100% excited to welcome in a new decade.