Missions and Musings

     It has been almost two months since I've written here. To be frank, I have entirely forgotten about this thing. I need to learn and remember to take this off the shelf, dust it, off, pick up the pen and see what comes out. I often surprise myself with how advanced my writing has become, being only fifteen. My mind has been overwhelmed with school work, human interactions, and production of a better me. I can say that the only thing of the three I mentioned that has improved was human interactions, but not by a long run.
     I say that I've been focusing on school work, when in reality I've been focused on doodling on the margins of my school work. Each piece of homework is not met head on with a new idea of a picture of a starfish playing the flute, a ballerina on her toes, or a smile shared between friends. I am imaginative, creative, and easily bored if I become used to something. I need change to stimulate me, if not, I will fall behind because I feel that I've already met the challenge, and there is no point in continuing to do something that I've already done. That is a reason why I am not doing bad in school, but I am not up to the standard I once was. Repetition annoys me, and I will not get anything done under the circumstances.
     Last year, I told myself and others that I was a sponge that no one could squeeze out. The same is still partially true, yet you can get some small, minuscule drops of water out of me. I will absorb anything that is thrown at me, from ideas to formulas, which is why I test so well. I suppose this is the way that my human interactions have improved, slightly. I've begun to let more of myself show, and it scares the living daylights out of me. But it's for a mission.
     In March, I committed myself to Project Senegal. This is a project that has stemmed off of the nonprofit that was founded in part by trip to Russia in 2011. When we got back, my mother and I started a non profit, and called it Spark540. People who live in and around Salem might have heard of it. It's a leadership organization for high school students, focused around the United Nation's Eight Millennium Development Goals, and for the 2013/2014 year, we have decided to focus on the second goal. Education for all. A group of six teenagers of different interests and talents will be flying to the Dakar region of Senegal on December 26th, 2013. Because of my interest and talent in linguistics, I will be in charge of teaching a begginers english class at two schools, La Fontaine school, and N'doukh Thiarokh school (no one can pronounce it, so we've dubbed it "the village school"), with students ages 12-13. The Fontaine school is a private school, in need of help and reparation, as well as the Village School, but that one is public. Remember in 2011, when I was twelve, how quickly I picked up on the Russian Language? This is what I hope to do with Wolof (the native tongue of Senegal) and French. I have been studying french for four years, so this will be less of a daunting task for me.
     I am asking for your help. I need to reach o fundraising goal of approximately $3.400(U.S.D.) by Christmas. I know I can do it, because I raised $1,500 in sock puppets, and donations from you guys, and I am still offering my sincere thanks to all who contributed, both materially and spiritually. If you are looking to donate, please get in contact with me, and do not use the pay pal link on my blog, unless you want your money to go into the fund of providing Z with a safe "graduation" from the orphanage. Contact me at bridget.ayers@aol.com.
     Again, thank you all for reading this, and your time to help me succeed in what I want to do in my time on this kind earth.

Made To Be Broken, Time Lapses, and A Promise.

     Last month, I started high school. It's a whole new world for people like me. I'm a VERY shy person, for the most part. When theres more than one person that I don't know around, I feel like breaking down into tears. This is more recent than anything else, but it's true. I suppose that I'm afraid of social interaction. It's not that I just don't like it, I'm actually scared of it.
     Coming from a 14 year old, that does sound a bit strange. If I know that there's a situation in which I am going to have to be social, I'll stay up extremely late in the night, worrying about what I'm going to say, how I'm going to say it, what if it doesn't sound right? I'll get extremely nervous about it, and end up stressing out a lot, and completely crashing after said event.
     This started to happen when I came back from Russia last June. I don't know what caused it, but I've become quieter and more introverted. I'd rather stay in and read a book than go anywhere. I suppose you could say that I've been broken. Something snapped. It's terrifying. Look at my first post, and then some of the more recent ones. January 2011, I was a bubbly, giggly child. Now what am I? A cynical teenager? No. That's not what I'm trying to be, I want to be happy and outgoing again, but that doesn't seem very realistic in the near future.
     Also, the song Iris, by the Goo Goo Dolls, reminds me so much of my sister, who I haven't spoken to in over a year. The lyrics are as follows:
"And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehowYou're the closest to heaven that I'll ever beAnd I don't want to go home right now
And I don't want the world to see me'Cause I don't think that they'd understandWhen everything's made to be brokenI just want you to know who I am
And you can't fight the tears that ain't comingOr the moment of truth in your liesWhen everything feels like the moviesYeah you bleed just to know you're alive
And I don't want the world to see me'Cause I don't think that they'd understandWhen everything's made to be brokenI just want you to know who I am
And I don't want the world to see me'Cause I don't think that they'd understandWhen everything's made to be brokenI just want you to know who I am
And I don't want the world to see me'Cause I don't think that they'd understandWhen everything's made to be brokenI just want you to know who I amI just want you to know who I amI just want you to know who I amI just want you to know who I am" 
You can listen to it here.
    It reminds me of her so much, and causes me to be incredibly sad. I remember her tears, her voice, the sweet scent of her short black hair, her big brown eyes. It takes everything in me not to obsess over the fact that she is not here yet. It's one of those things that's right there, but you have to try to ignore. I don't want to ignore her, but its for the best.     Anyways, sorry I haven't been posting regularly, I'm going to try to work on that,-Bridget.



     One year later:Hi, I'm Bridget, I'm 15, and a sophomore in High School. Things have gotten better, I talk to people, though still get nervous around big groups of people I don't know. I'm also still afraid to ask people for things, I'd rather just not get said thing done. I've continued to get "good" grades (mostly B's with a few A's) and am taking AP Environmental Science this year. My locker is orange, with magnets and a picture of my sister inside.     It constantly kills me that she likely will never be my sister, she likely will never nee me again, and I the same. It kills me that the last memory I have of her is her looking behind her shoulder with tears in her eyes when I was leaving. Looking to make sure I was real, and maybe for the chance that I would just stay forever. I wish I could have stayed forever, but I had a life at home that I needed to tend to. I was 12, and couldn't just make the decision to stay. Legally, I could have stayed for three months, but I had school, two other members of my family, friends, and commitments that I couldn't just abandon to stay 6,000 miles away with no notice.     I wish that Putin didn't close adoptions to the U.S., but there's nothing I can do about that. What am I supposed to do? March over to the Kremlin and yell at Putin? I'm a 15 year old girl, he'd laugh in my face. Plus, many other people are stuck in the same was we are. I am and will be eternally grateful that Z didn't know we had plans to adopt her. For the other children, who had hope of a home in America, and knew that they would come home, and to have that ripped away from them, is a thought I cannot even fathom. I am absolutely crushed by the fact that she's growing older and will likely never come home, I am guaranteed a home until I am at least 18, and likely after that. I will continue to get an education at least until the year 2016, and though I am a little chilly right now, I can just turn the heat on. She (and all the others) are in Siberia, one of the coldest places on earth. They're guaranteed education until they are 16, and "age out" (more like get kicked out), and have it SO much worse than I do.      Anyways, the promise; It's not a promise to you. It's a promise to Z. Dear Z, know that I will never stop thinking about you, know that I care about you, and if Russia ever opens up adoptions, I will get right back to begging and nagging to get you home, but right now,  everything is out of my control. I will love you forever, don't forget that.-Bridget