Thailand Student Blog

Jazmin M., Age 19, Mt. Scott

My name is Jazmin Menjivar and I was born in California. I am nineteen years old and this June I will be graduating from high school. My life has holes that people and I have dig and now I am slowly filling it in with new soil. At the age of three my mother left my life. My dad became a single father but managed to be a mother and a father figure to me. I struggle at times with not having someone at home because my father has two jobs and is not there to give me a good night kiss. I grew up taking care of my self and becoming independent. I have struggle with school in the past not taking care of my self but recently I have been getting involved in the community to better myself and gain awareness of my surroundings.

My dream is to be a nurse but the one who you would feel comfortable with, I want to change lives, travel around the world, learn different culture and there food, and go to 3rd world countries to donate my time and skill. I also want to have a foster home because I hate seeing kids being mistreated or neglected and I want help kids thrive in life because the future needs kids who will make a change like I am and we can not waste what a child can do in the furture that can benefit us all. I feel that with my hands and knowledge I can help change the world but first it starts here in my community.

When I 1st heard about Pangaea I knew I was on board because it is a great way to go to another country and learn for experience how different countries really are than what you hear. I have always wanted to travel and with Pangaea it is a great way to start. When the group from last year came to my school to talk about Thailand and there experience, I could not wait to sign up and it benefits low-income students like me. I worked really hard to apply and cross my fingers to be accepted.

When I arrive to Thailand I am going to try everything like food, chores, ride the elephant if I can, I just want to make the best of it and hope to learn a lot about the life style in Thailand.  I hope for my group to have the time of there life and appreciate this amazing opportunity. I look forward to come back to Portland and share with my group about our experiences in Thailand to the community and our schools. I can not wait to tell my kids in the future about the cool things “mommy” did.

My concern for the trip is the twenty four hour fight there, it is going to be a long but I mean long way there. I am going to get claustrophobic but I think I will be fine. I hope my group gets along and come back stronger than when we left. Another thing is that I will miss my daddy because I have never been away from him than from 2 weeks and a month is going to be hard.

Jenny E., Age 23, Portland YouthBuilders

AN OLD SOUL
It’s spring of 1989, the birds are chirping, the grass is as tall as I, and dancing in the wind. I’m three years old. My cousin Sandy a year older runs off into the grass chasing after her brother, Mkey. I try to keep up, but they’re just too fast. I sat pouting; my forehead hot and sweaty, until Sandy came back. We tried to balance ourselves on a two wheel trailer, 2\6 boards hanging off the end with nails sticking out. Sandy said ‘’Look, its magic’’ and she pointed toward the garage. The garage was open about a foot and a half. As I stand looking around I saw that my aunt and cousins were crying, but why, what was happening? The garage door was now open it and was my mom.

Twelve years old and I am having trouble in school. I don’t fit in. I’m always with the older crowd. School’s my last priority. I miss a lot of days and party at nights. I run away for weeks at a time. I’m told on a daily basis I’m my mother’s twin in every way. Home life, well, I’d rather be at school because my maternal grandmother is raising me. She was raised in a Catholic boarding school and we clearly don’t see eye to eye. My Grandmother’s house is chaos. The Family fights all the time over food, rent, and bills. My Grandma opened her doors to all my aunts, uncles, and cousins, but There was a price.

I’m fourteen and living on my own with my boy friend Arturo. We are both attending Madison High. I’m an honor student, on my way to graduating as a junior. I’m determined to finish early. I’m taking a seventh period and all the extra classes I can get my hands on.

It,s now the end of 2002, my junior year. I’ve messed up bad, I’ve partied too much. I didn’t make any deadlines. It sucks watching all my friends walk at graduation; they were all seniors, including Arturo. I feel so stupid, all the extra hours and hard work downs the drain. Why, why, why?

June 2004. My belly so huge I can barely see my feet. This is a day to remember. Not only is it both, mine and Arturo’s birthday, but it’s also the birthday of our son. Eathen Anthony Michel. He is strong healthy, and seven lbs even. Up until today, I had always thought of myself as grown, but it wasn’t until that day that I became a woman. It’s mindboggling, I’ve only just met this little person but the love is so strong and instant. Today is bittersweet, I keep thinking of the day I sat pouting, “I wish my mom was here!”

I’m working paycheck to paycheck, just to pay the bills. I want to go back to school but times are hard. I need more money. I got a second job just get by. Working seventy hour weeks is hard. There is just not enough time in the day to spend with my son. This is not where I want to be but
I don’t want to end up like my family broke, on drugs, and on public assistance or in jail. This is the time to make a change, it’s now or never.

April 2008 I quit my job and I’m attending school at Portland YouthBuilders.
I’m in construction and I like it. I’m on the student advisory board making changes. and improvements for the students, and within five months I have earnd my high school diploma. I’m planning to attend college at PCC to work with youth in any way I can. My goal in life is to be a great mom and to be self sufficient. Portland YouthBuilders was a huge step in the right direction for me. I’ve gotten way more then what I was expecting out of the program.

Carly Jo S., Age 17, Mt. Scott

First, let’s get to know this intense girl. Intense, like camping! Her name is Carly Jo Strader. Technically, her name would have been Carly Jo Redthunder, due to being the daughter of a full blooded Native American Father, Joseph Redthunder, of whom, unfortunately, she does not know, nor has ever met. She one day wishes to find him and show him what an amazing girl she’s sprouted up to be! With once long, midnight black hair, which is now donated to cancer victims, she takes on the world and its treacheries one day and one obstacle at a time! Nothing can hold this hope driven girl back!

I try to understand this complex youngster, but nobody seems to get through all her little nooks and crannies. She’ll be your best friend, if given the chance, and all around tries to bring a happy aroma into her environment and every step taken forward, both literally and metaphorically.

We’ve all had our fare share of heart ache and troubling predicaments throughout our short, yet very precious lives, so maybe if I open up to you about Carly Jo, you might be able to understand her a little better, on a more deep level, and won’t judge her, or give her pity, because getting to know her, that is what she hates most! From first hand experience, she is not afraid to share you her life story. She almost comes off to be proud of her past and is not ashamed of it. She once told me, she wouldn’t change a single aspect of her past childhood growing up, because it shaped her to be the person she is today. She tells me that it gave her the right mind set to stay focused on her morals and personal goals, and to be the best person she can possibly be. Well listener, lets get ready for this crazy ride, here we go…

( She was instructed to write briefly about three memorable years of her life, and this my friend, is what she produced…)

I like to call this the innocence stage of my life, Kid Carly. The year is 2001 and I am the young tender age of eight, living a life with no regrets. What were regrets? How could someone even do something that later they would feel regret for? I lived with only smiles and childish cartoons, unaware of everything that had meaning. My life was made up of the simple things in life like sugary cereal and countless bath toys. We had just moved into our new home, which was kitty corner from Brooklyn Park. This park consisted of a gargantuan hill, a vibrant red swirly slide, a teeter totter and a summer program shack. It was the ideal thing for a curious, imaginative eight year old. I was bursting at the seams with joy and couldn’t ask for anything more. That was the year I would soon come to meet two incredibly important people in my life, my best friend and my life mentor. Their names were Craig and Zoe.  Craig was the park director at Brooklyn Park and over the years our friendship has grown dramatically. Zoe was the little girl who lived a block away from the park. She had an amazingly booming personality that instantly drew me to her.  The summers that I had spent in the hot sun at Brooklyn Park surrounded by nothing but friends were the days that shaped me considerably.

I was clinging so fondly to my soon to be memories, and slowly moving into a new stage of my life, I was starting to get older. I like to call this the “drama” stage: A time for the loss of innocence and coming of age. The year was 2005 and I was the tender age of 13, where the world was slowly starting to come into perspective, not figuring out its little quirks, but I got along well enough to have a little common sense. The short, precious time of my innocence was slowly diminishing and I soon came to realize that the world wasn’t as nice as I had thought it out to be. My home life became increasingly hard to deal with, as I soon started to comprehend the intensity of my parents problems. Living with drug addicted and alcoholic parents forced my needs to be left on the back burner. I soon discovered the freedom that came out of this, and thought I had it easy. I used my friends and unappreciative boyfriends as my escape. I soaked in deep denial that nothing was wrong with me. I did not fully understand how to express my feelings, and it forced me to suffocate in my emotions.

My mother and fathers drug of choice was heroin. I remember climbing the fridge to get the band-aids hidden up high. A small woven basket full of meaningless baggage lay exposed. I touched and fondled the deadly syringes that lay atop the band aids, maybe a little ironic. To say I was curious is an understatement. Things that had long been unexplained started to become clear. The once gleaming white walls speckled with tiny red spots, remarkably similar to the color of blood. The sudden shortage of spoons.  The bathroom being occupied for up to hours at a time, with no water running. Only silence and responding yells when asked to use it. My parents constantly tired, always sleeping. Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping. Years later, when seeing old friends, they would ask the repetitive question “Is your mom still tired all the time?” Maybe it was because of the heroin, or maybe it was because of the toxic hepatitis C that held her body hostage. I never knew. For the longest time I had never thought anything of her nodding out at the dinner table, or on the couch. She was just tired. It was normal to me because it was the only thing I had ever known. I had been forced into a life surrounded by drugs, alcohol, blind violence, and empty cupboards. At this point in time I never thought this monotonous lifestyle would cease.
I felt like the one and only person I could count on was my Dad. Although he had been pulled into the circle of drugs as well, he had always been there for me when I needed him, no matter what the circumstances were. Whatever I needed, he made sure I had. When my Mom was too far gone, he made sure to be there. He made sure that I always had someone. One night, after a confrontation in a bar, my Dad had a queue ball thrown at his temple. The ball shattered into pieces, forcing a bone to lodge and rub against one of his nerves. From then on, he had terrible, heartbreaking seizures daily. Watching this surely took a hard toll on my heart, but I also came to realize how precious one’s life was. I realized how much of a difference one’s actions can make, and how much of an impact someone can have on someone else’s life. Even by the smallest decisions, one can have a huge impact. My relationship with my Dad was one of the only comforts I had, but soon that security would vanish.

What would happen next would make that little hope left in me even smaller. Ironically, it was the morning of 6/6/06. It was the end of my eighth grade year and I was ready for high school. On that morning I woke up from a deep sleep to a pounding at our front door. Automatically, I knew it was the police. That was how they always knocked. But this time, I felt it was different. My mom got to the door before me, and I could already see tears swelling up in her groggy eyes. Peering outside, there were too many police to count. It was my dad. What was happening this time? I peered at the cop, and moved past him outside. They were looking for him. So many words were being flown all around. He had run after the police saw had seen him. Apparently, he was trying to commit suicide with the carbon monoxide from the exhaust coming from the car. My brain was swarming with thoughts and questions. I was only 13. Why would he do this to himself? Why would he do this to me? Then I started thinking, and I came to realize that he wasn’t happy. That this was what he wanted. He had been suffering for to long, and he had finally had enough. To make a long story longer, the night was slowly fading into day and the entire complex was peering out at us, with much interest. They had soon come to find my dad at the top of the stair case. He was at their surrender now and there was nothing he could do. The cops were waiting at the bottom of the stair case, guns pointed and ready.

At this point my heart had already dropped and something tight and cold was lodged in my throat. I fought to keep a scream of desperation and years of memories down. My dad reached behind his back and screamed to everyone that he had a gun. I was in a state of complete shock; He had a gun? I soon came to realize that this was his attempt for them to shoot him. He wanted to die, and this was his last chance.

I ran out in front of their guns, not completely sure of what I was going to do. I screamed at the police and told them that he had no gun. I told them that he was only lying, and that he was harmless. It wasn’t the smartest choice I could have made right then, but I was not about to let my father get shot by all these police. Years and years of memories started flowing back into my body. I needed him. I wasn’t going to let him go this way. I was simply standing up for what I wanted and I took charge. I refused to be a bystander to this horrible day. The cops threatened to arrest me for obstruction of justice, but at this point in time, that was the last of my worries. That was my father they held at gun point and I could not sit and watch any longer. I was not a “bad” child, I got straight A’s in school, earned a student of the month award, and never did give into the pressure of drugs nor alcohol. The police threat did not matter, I was willing to stand up for my beliefs and protect someone I loved dearly. I was not breaking the law; I was not doing anything wrong. I was loving someone with all my heart and I was taking action. My Dad managed to get out, “Hi honey, I love you, please go back inside now.” This was hard to hear, and it only made me want to stop this madness even more. At that moment my dad ended up having a seizure on the stairs. The police seized the opportunity and grabbed him. They had him in cuffs and walking down the stairs when he managed to turn and get out “I love you honey, you be a good girl.” He was dying, but the police did not know that. The doctor said that if the bone hit that nerve a certain way, he was sure to die. He told the police that he did not want to die in jail. They foolishly said “You won’t die in jail Randy.” And with that, they were gone. I was baffled with this entire situation. How could they arrest someone for trying to end their life? I remember ever so clearly the night before. My Mom, Dad and I were all in the kitchen, a very rare occasion, sharing laughter about a Snapple cap that read “Elephants only sleep 2 hours a day.” I remember going off to bed, but first taking one last glance at my Dad. He had tears in his eyes and flowing down his face as he silently washed the last of the dishes. I turned around and gave him one last hug, and off to bed I went, completely oblivious to the pain that lived within him.

Many years of my adolescence were terribly challenging and troubling for me, but they taught me so many precious lessons. It gave me an entirely different perspective on life, and my way of living. I believe more good came out of these experiences than bad, because I now hold close many valuable morals and goals for myself. I try to see the good in everything and stay very optimistic, because I believe there is always new hope to be found everywhere. As much ache as my heart suffered, I would not change a thing about my past, because it shaped who I am today and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

My heart clings close to those short lived memories, but has now discovered the new hope and ambition that rested hidden and untouched beneath many of my barriers. The year is 2008-2009and I am the tender age of 17. The world is apparent, and my beliefs are stronger than ever. It was my 2nd, going on third year of attending such a great school, and my knowledge was growing daily. I was volunteering my time to many places and people, and lived off the pure joy that came from both ends. I was taking part in my favorite Great Outdoors Academy (GOA) trips, cheerleading for Marshall High School, discovering and being moved by the genocide in Darfur, and slowly but surely making a difference in their lives. I sent money, wrote letters, and wore a bag that unquestionably delivered the message of awareness, making slideshows, buying solar cookers and attending the Genocide Awareness Week was surely my attempt at making this world a little nicer for them and for me. I continue to stay aware of the problems around me, near and far and know that it is possible for everyone to make a difference.

WOAH! Tell me, were you ready for that one? As you can see, this girl has had more than her fair share of life, but being around her now, you’d never guess it. She walks with confidence in her stride and that laugh of hers; I won’t even begin to go there…!

Shelby H., Age 19, Mt. Scott

I come from Portland, Oregon. My dad was born here in Portland as well, and my mother was born in California, I think maybe in Los Angeles. I have lived in Portland my whole life, and I’ve lived in the NE part of Portland for 11 years, and where I live at I guess I could say is where most of the middle class houses are, I love my neighborhood. I had a middle school and a park near my home, there was a library not too far from my house, grocery stores were just a small walk away from my house. Some challenges that I’ve faced is living in two different places. I have lived permanently with my dad for the past 11 years, and I’ve never felt like when I go to my mom’s house, that it’s never my second home. I have always felt like just a visitor when I go to my mom’s house, and not her child.

My dreams are very hard to see right now. I haven’t decided what I want to do with my life, so my dreams can change, or start, whenever I decide what I want to do with my life. All I really want at this moment is graduate from high school, get a job within the next few months, come to Portland every Thursday and Saturdays that we have Pangaea, and be as happy as I can with the way my life is going.

What brought me to Pangaea is that we can travel out of the U.S., and I’ve never been out of the west side of the U.S. before, so traveling, is my biggest reason why I decided to participate in Pangaea, but not the only reason why I was brought to Pangaea. I also want to see other cultures, because I think that you never actually get the full picture on how people live unless you see it for yourself.

My hopes for the program for myself are that I’ll open up to people. I’m a very shy person; I’m loud, but shy. Hopefully before the 8 months is up, I’ll have opened up enough to be able to show all of my sides of myself, and not just the side that is negative most of the time.
My hopes for everyone else is that they’ll enjoy themselves while they are out of the U.S., get to know each other, and hopefully get to know everybody they travel with. I don’t think everybody could become friends, it’s a possibility, but different personalities, and different things that irk them, but my hope is that everybody can at least try, and if it’s not possible, then be able to at least show respect for them.

My concerns are that I’d miss home too much while I’m away for month, that I’m going to accidentally hurt myself because of my klutziness, or that I’m going to embarrass myself in front of everybody, which I just might do, because I’m good at embarrassing myself every day, but I just hope that it’ll happen less when I’m out of the U.S

Francisco A., Age 18, Portland Youth Builders

My name is Francisco Abel Acosta Vazquez I was born in Los Angeles California 2/11/1991.
Ever since I was little I liked to stay active and invent things, I would take apart electronics that didn’t work and somehow ended up fixing them.  I remember one of my biggest challenges was learning to speak English. I went to school not knowing how to speak the English language, or understand it. I remember that the teachers wanted to put me in ESL (English second language) but my parents didn’t want them to, so I learned the hard way.

A dream ill always have is to become a professional boxer and represent my family’s name, my people and where I come from. That will allow me to do something and ill have some kind of influence on people and maybe help them for the better.

One of the biggest reasons that I decided to join Pangaea is because I can just imagine how much it will help me develop me as an individual and expand my global awareness more in depth, allowing me to see what I can do on my behalf.

I really hope to expand and grow as a person and that it will allow me to see things in a different way, I hope to learn to communicate and add to my leadership skill. I would like to help everyone grow and learn from each other and see how to fix whatever problem may appear.
I was really upset when I found out that one of our teammates wasn’t going to be able to go on the trip, and now I’m worried that I’m not going to be able to go because of problems that I had with my passport application. For now those are my only concerns because I think everyone else has all their passport thing worked out and that’s good.