Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I once lived with a Dutch girl

I received a letter in the mail today from a former roommate. If anyone gets the honor to live with this girl, take it. I remember my trip back from Ethiopia I spent the entire night awake at the Frankfurt train station waiting for the 3am to leave. I spent all day transferring trains and waiting for the next to depart. I didn't arrive home until 6pm. I had travelled well over 24 hours and had yet to catch a wink of sleep. Dorien greeted me at our door with a huge hug, took my bags and lead me to the kitchen to where a caramel cappuccino and a stroopwafel - a famous Dutch cookie - awaited my arrival. She wanted nothing in return. She simply wanted to sit with me, to be in my presence, and to give herself to me. She is one of the most Godly women I have ever met. Living with her, during the week we'd watch Dutch reality tv together. She would translate for me since I failed to pick up any Dutch in my time with her. We'd baked - rather, I would watch her bake - and offer my french press coffee as we'd sit in our kitchen and talk about California, Ethiopia, Kenya, life in Germany. I realize now how much I'd taken those moments for granted. I looked forward to my evenings with her, but I never fully submerged myself into them as she. I'm thankful for friends such as Dorien. Not everyone gets one of these.

Tonight I sit in my half-furnished apartment and wonder where I am to go next (if anyone wants to help me decorate my walls, please join. I'll make you coffee). I know it will be somewhere wonderful. I know the people I will meet there (or along the way) will give me enough memories to last a lifetime.

I realized today that I am just a not so ordinary - ordinary American girl:

I have a credit card, but no debt. I (thankfully) sing in unison with the cohorts of Dave Ramsey and can admittedly yell, "I'M DEBT FREEEEEEEE!!!"

I go to college, but I've not fully embraced it's culture. I realized my abnormalities more-so today after sitting in class and becoming excited over a discussion on sub-prime mortgages. My professor and I seemed to be the only ones interested in the subject. My classmates had previously taken on a lengthy debate about black youth and capitalism - if black culture expresses itself through the media (rap music, clothing, sports) or the other way around? They talked about Lebraun James - who I'm assuming plays basketabll - some shows I'd never heard of on VH1, new sitcoms I've failed to see previews for. Conversations such as these always seem to bring about a new self-perspective I have for myself. I forget my close friends and I are different until it is laid out in front of me. We don't care about the media. We could care less what sport team is playing. We forget people don't know what fair trade means, or why you should buy local, or not eat meat. The hippies were on to something. Why did no one listen?

I sometimes forget how brilliantly extraordinary my life is. So many peoples' are boring. Really. I hear their goals and aspirations and think to myself, "really, this is how you want to spend your time? That is really how you spent your summer? How have you not gone insane yet?" I'm so thankful I've experienced the things I have. Not all of the things were good, not all of the things were easy to over-come, but boy have I been entertained.

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