I want to take this opportunity to thank the student who burnt popcorn at 2:30 AM last night. Not only was he up past curfew, but he sent one hundred plus people out of their beds waiting in the rain for the firemen to come and find the cause of the smoke. It took an hour for the search and thirty more minutes to return everyone back to bed. Wake up call is at 6:00 FYI. Also, it is well into the next day and my room smells of popcorn death.

There is a silver lining. I am grateful the kid was not smoking cigarettes or worse. It would have been too late/early to yell and write him up. I'm not even sure I know how to discipline fully conscious. So alhumdilallah it was just popcorn.

She did it again, folks.

http://twostepartizani.wordpress.com/2011/07/21/a-sort-of-homecoming-2/

I won't mention it every time, but this is by far my favorite blog that I read. My aunt is a true hero. Come August, I get to spend time with this brilliance and nothing can make me happier.

A Little Update

It's currently ninety degrees in Boston. I'm going to go ahead and add ten more for humidity and ten more for residing in these cinder block dorms lacking air-conditioning. We are in survival mode. The mentors decided that all of the kids should sleep in the lounge (only room filled with AC) while this heat persists.

Am I the only one who thinks cramming seventy-one high school students in one room is crazy? I will be shocked if I get sleep this weekend. I am not sure when I became this old lady, but it happened.

2:19 AM, Saturday Morning

For the month of July, I am living in Cambridge dorms as a mentor for a high school summer camp with seventy one kids. I love it except for nights like tonight. A rumored "toga party" is keeping me up into these wee hours. Every so often, a kid will open his/her door and peek out to see if I am asleep. I am determined to outlast the little suckers. I am terrible at disciplining. Normally, I just let things slide like late nighters of dying people's hair or kids being a little late for curfew. I understand what it was like to be their age and the desire to be respected. Everyone needs mercy. However, drunk minors are no good hence the sleepless night of patrolling.

New dorm trend: Both girls and guys are shaving half of their heads and leaving the other side long. Let's just say the parents are not thrilled. I have received many a phone call.

We spent the evening at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston with a tour guide, something I highly suggest. Despite their half-witted attempts to sneak around, these kids are brilliant and I love spending time with them. I am amazed at their knowledge of art history and their ability to create. I would stare at a painting and one would explain the history and the concept behind each piece of work. Artists are misunderstood geniuses. Every brush stroke they make serves a purpose. They taught me this as they analyzed and discussed pieces together. I feel an art history course in my near future.

We split up into groups in the museum. Mine, of course, was the best.

Also, I highly suggest seeing Chihuly's glass exhibit and a glass blowing demonstration.

The other mentors I work with are artists as well. They are fabulous. When the kids are in class, we hang out in a hallway and they work on their own art. I watch and hopefully soak in the creative fumes. I had every opportunity and more to dive into this way of documenting history and I failed. Tonight, I am humbled.

Buggah, Jayk.

My family left to take Jayk to Pennsylvania for the weekend. He will fly out of Harrisburg to Brazil where he will serve for two years. Due to unfortunate events and a mandatory orientation, I am stuck here missing out on my brother's last hoo-rah. Not only am I sad, I am racked with guilt. This is an out-of-body experience full of mixed emotions.

I don't remember my one year without him. It's almost like we were born twins except we have different personalities and I have always been the more attractive one. Jayk's first two words were actually two grunts, "buggah" and "buddah." He used them for every feeling and need. My mom says this is because he had his opinionated and bossy older sister to speak for him. Sorry for that, braddah.

I have come to the realization that I write in a bullet-point type of fashion. I guess it's my style. Here are more stories I love:

Jayk used to stick toothpicks in his mouth creating the monstrosity of a gap in the middle of his two front teeth. I also might have chipped one of them in a fit of rage. That's a story for later. Let's just say that braces worked wonders.

We rode the bus in elementary school. Every morning, we would race to the bus stop. Jayk's body was always bigger and faster than mine with my brittle bones and underdeveloped muscles. Also, his head was mahonkin'. As soon as we started racing down the sidewalk, he would push me in a pile of snow. By the time I could pick myself and my backpack up, the bus would leave. My mom wasn't too happy about that.

Jayk has tremendous musical talent. Never in my lifetime have I seen anyone pick up a guitar (or any string instrument) and play any song that I want perfectly. His mind is made for comprehending music theory. His latest debate is deciding whether to go to Berklee or a church school after his mission. He has awhile until that decision has to be made.

Between school and dance practice, I had a study hall for the girls on the dance team. No joke, everyday I walked in the room, Jayk's name would be written all over the board from various samples of handwriting. I would sigh, sit down, and open one of my books trying to ignore the girlish squeals and stories of my sighted brother.

Jayk surrounded himself with the most diverse and eccentric group of boys. I love seeing them together. They are hilarious and thrive on making people uncomfortable. Most of the time they are up to no good. Example: Just the other night they got in trouble with the police for putting a Christmas tree with presents underneath in front of a random neighbor's yard.

Jayk learned at an early age how not to upset my parents, something I failed at consistently. I had a big, fat mouth. He blended into the background and demonstrated a great amount of self control. Secretly, he was the biggest trouble maker AND a giant tease. Jory ran into my room one afternoon with horror stricken eyes, face planted on the wall, and leapt into my arms. Two seconds later, Jess ran into the same exact spot on the wall chasing Jory behind me. Jayk followed soon after hitting the SAME spot. I couldn't even protect Jory from the boys because I was laughing hysterically. It was like a scene from Tom and Jerry.

Jayk likes listening to Tchaikovsky on repeat. He also enjoys watching Oprah or Jane Austin flicks with my mom while eating salted grape fruit. This is not an exaggeration, folks.

Jayk LOVES Christmas.

He took Jason to a fake Beatles concert. Jason is my handicapped, but high functioning uncle who loves his women folk. Jason saw a girl and decided to dance by her. After talking to her Jason returned and cowered behind Jayk's giant body. At the end of the concert, Jayk asked him what happened. Jason had asked her to dance and she turned him down. Jayk's reply was, "Oh, she must not have heard you. The music was loud." And with that, his spirits were lifted. I love this story and will continue to tell it.

One time, I went downstairs and Jayk and Jess were dancing to "Pop, Lock, and Drop It." Synchronized.

I have been attending the single's ward in the same building as my parents' ward. A guy sat down next to me during sacrament meeting. Jayk was looking in from the foyer (dropping his eaves as usual.) I received a text from him that said, "Knucks, he's a fox." Thanks for eyeing up my prospects, brother.

I can go on forever. You'll make a great missionary. I'm proud of you and I'll miss you. I'll always remain your fiercest defender.

And now enough of stories and time for hysterics. Life is about laughing at yourself right?

I went into work literally ten minutes after saying goodbye to Jayk. I was welcomed with a hug and a cupcake from my favorite coworker who understands us mormons and our duties. While I was on the floor, I would start to tear up so he would try to cheer me up. I would instantly go from teary-eyed to laughing. Yep, crazy. Anyways, some girl decided to steal five pairs of black pants. Being in the mental state that I was, I opened the door and yelled after her, "Hope you enjoy your pants!" Definitely not Gap policy. When I re-entered the store, all my coworkers were laughing (even my manager.) Don't worry, she likes me and my antics. However, she deemed me not fit for customer interaction and let me organize the stock room.

For decent and understanding people, I am thankful.

I recently had my first megabus experience on a trip from

Boston to DC. loved. it.

My bus buddy was an older lady who wore a rainbow bandana and a t-shirt saying "unfortunately we are making enemies faster than we can kill them" while carrying a New York Times. I knew we were going to be instant friends. We shared her newspaper and talked about the Middle East. I might have fallen asleep on her at one point.

I visited my lovely Csilla. She was kind enough to let me follow her around. I adore this girl and have since the seventh grade. She is a naturally good-hearted person. I look up to her. She is also intelligent and well-spoken. The universe has kept us apart for a couple years. Hopefully, our lives will intertwine once more. Thursday, she leaves for Morocco to save the world, one orphan at a time.

I also went to Lancaster for Jayk and Jared's farewell. Of course, it was great spending time with them and the fam. I have come to the conclusion that no one in our family, immediate and extended, is good at telling stories except for my Aunt Allisa. This does not mean we aren't hilarious.

I'm back in Boston for now. It is HOT. That's all I have to say about that.

Side note to all the GAP customers in the Boston area: You know you have a problem when you recognize an employee on the street, call them by name, and start up a conversation about their daily lives. Help can be found for your shopping addiction. Unfortunately, this has not happened only once. I'm a celebrity.

I miss living by my cousins. Instant love at any needed moment. I didn't realize how spoiled I was. Mushy, I know.

Renewal

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

I finally made it to Boston. It took a little over three days. I enjoyed myself on the trip, probably more than Sean and Liz. After seeing them everyday, it will be difficult for me to be apart. We stopped in Chicago and saw Auntie Vagi along with her family. Her kids grow more and more beautiful as the years go by. They must take after their mother :). Enjoy the pictures!

Courtesy of Liz:

We also had the opportunity to go into the Art Institute. The building is calm and serene. It reminds me of my dad. I used to draw with him in the gardens while he was attending school. I dragged everyone to the impressionism wing this trip to see George Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte," which also reminds me of my father, not because of similarities in their artwork. In seventh grade, he pulled an all-nighter helping me paint a pointillism piece. It is still hanging in the office of James Hart. I would credit that to my talent, but I know it was all his eye.

Here's one of his new pieces with my cute sister.

I had this as my status update on facebook, but it is too memorable to skip. On the way to Boston from Lancaster, I woke up in the back seat to Jayk and Jared beeping the horn and putting up a sign with their numbers for a car full of girls all while listening to War's "Low Rider." Pretty funny stuff.

I have been jogging around to familiarize myself with the city. I get lost the majority of the time. You know what they say, the longer the run, the more fit the Jadyn. My parents neglected to tell me that I live in the Jewish quarter of Boston called Brookline. I have run by three or four Jewish synagogues already. Not complaining, just think it's funny. I won't be using much Arabic here. My favorite street is canopied with trees called Wincester (pronounced Win-stah). It holds two synagogues. When I hit that street, I blast Arab music on my ipod and for a moment the two worlds collide and there's peace, at least in my world. I chuckle.

Fun fact: JFK was born a couple blocks down from my parents' apartment.

Jonsi is my artist of choice while running these days. I know, not your average, upbeat playlist. "Around Us" played during this morning's jog. I felt rejuvenated, healed even. This city has brought me joy.

I think I'm going to like my new home. Yep, I think I'm going to like it a lot.

Oh! My aunt started a blog. She is the true master of stringing words together.

http://twostepartizani.wordpress.com/about/