Too exhausted to think of a title

Hello! Let me tell you about Halloween.

In a word: it was great. Our school let us put on a haunted house for the students. They trusted us with their ELA time, ensuring every kid would get a chance to go through. It was a huge behavior initiative, and was wonderful because we got a chance to do something for these students that was just for their entertainment. It was just for them to have fun and be kids.

The haunted house was amazing. We used the extra City Year room, a normal classroom sized space, and turned it into a maze with the scariest things lurking around corners. We created floor to ceiling walls out of garbage bags, and hung danger signs. We dressed up (woah – City Year not in uniform! Too scary!) and put paint on our faces. We looked dead. It was all very slasher horror film.

The students arrived with their English classes. Lined up outside, we fed them a tale of mad scientists, experiments gone wrong, and abandoned hospitals.

Opening Day, Building a Playground, General Conference, and Perspective

Opening Day
The official presenting of City Year Sacramento to the City of Sacramento, and pretty much everyone. It started with mingling. Lots and lots of mingling. Holy moly. How squishy. (squishy is CY speak for 'out of comfort zone. I don't think I even have a comfort zone anymore). After a while, all the City Year corps members hid behind a bush, waited for the music, jumped out singing and dancing and all sorts of partying and ran to our spots. Mine happened to be on stage. Why? Because I was about to sing the national anthem with these folks.

Yes, this is rehearsal.
 Also, no, I didn't forget the words to The Star Spangled Banner.

I think it went well. Regardless of the fact that we were out of breath on account of having just sprinted to the front of the crowd. Four years ago, in Concert Choir as a scared Freshman, I never would have had the guts to do this. But I was only 14, the age of some of the students I'm working with now. Today, I thought this opportunity was a privilege. A privilege that made me so nervous I almost got sick (at least I didn't pass out like last time I sang in front of people), but still a really exciting privilege. After we sang, we all got to sit down. We listened to many inspiring speeches. Unfortunately, I am really not one to listen to speeches and get much out of them. I need a pen and some paper, at the very least. Preferably a study sheet and discussion. Anyway, the speeches really were great. Sweltering in the bombers (city year jackets) in the sun for an hour wasn't so great.

Also, I got a hug, kiss, and picture from this man, Mayor Kevin Johnson. He's a champion.

Building a Playground
On Saturday I built a playground. It was kind of epic. Also exhausting. There were some 125 volunteers there. And we built a playground.

Kaboom! is a nonprofit that recognizes the need for children to have a safe place to play. Their goal is to build enough playgrounds so that everyone in America is within walking distance of a safe place to play, or a playground. They were partnered with PG&E and The Salvation Army on Saturday.

Thanks to my teammate, Sayfoon, for this pic.

So many people, all working all day to build a playground.

General Conference
Was great, I'm sure. I only saw one session. Color me inactive.
I'm kidding. I'm kidding. I haven't missed a day of church since moving to Sacramento. Saturday I spent a whole day building a playground so sue me. (yes, I recognize I'm getting too defensive about this. Which is probably a sign. or something.) Sunday I only had Internet access at the local Starbucks, and my neck was stiff. So I only watched one.


Perspective
They say the first thing to go when you join City Year is sleep, and that is most certainly true. The second is perspective. Also true. Please have patience with me as I try to get it back.
Homesickness
I'm homesick. I believe as an 18 year 2 month 3 day old who just moved out of her parents' house and into the most stressful situation of her life (thus far), I am entitled to be homesick. You know what they say about entitlement... :P


Food
I am having so much fun cooking for myself. I never want to go back to eating other people's cooking. I eat a lot of beans and rice and spinach and potatoes and vegetables. I have had meat three times in two weeks. That seems like I'm hitting the 'sparingly' part of the Word Of Wisdom. I want fruit. And tofu. and a slow cooker. and a freaking spatula.


I don't know whether or not to go to college next year. It's either some university, or an LDS Mission. I'm leaning towards being a missionary, because I've wanted to go on a mission forever. But also because that means I won't have to apply to colleges.

And I hate college entrance essays. With a passion. I passionately hate college essays.


Ok, best moments:
That really awesome kid, who I care about sooooo much, and who also is the one who has spent the last few weeks very much hating me and all other City Year Corps members he has to deal with, finally said something not terrible to me. It was a sweet moment.

Also, I got a letter from a student. So I broke out my stationary and wrote her one back. :)

I worked with very specific students on their math. I feel purposeful.

I got a hug. And a long conversation, that helped a lot when I was having a hard time.

I have a new responsibility, monitoring the hallways during the afterschool homework class. All the students who aren't in class (for different reasons, the main ones being behavior issues) can come out with me. We run through multiplication tables, or read from a novel, and then we talk. I try to make it fun, so they work with me, but still effective and efficient use of learning time. I get to strengthen relationships with students I haven't had the chance to get to know yet. It's nice.

The joy of non-verbal communication: A student wants to get my attention, so they raise their hand, catch my eye, and motion me over. The teachers only get the hand raise. I get a little finger thing. When I want to get a student's attention, I just stare at them for a bit. Usually, when students are misbehaving, they glance at the teachers every few seconds, to see if they've been caught. When they look up at me, as they always do, I gesture at them to write/read/stop talking with a combination of complicated hand movements and facial expressions. I'm always pleasantly surprised that it works so well.

A kid handed me a permission slip. I'm a teacher in his class, so now I get to do teacher type things. Like collect late work. For some reason, this pleases me.

I am starting to see the sweetness and innocence in every child, not just the well-behaved kids. I'm reminded often that there are no bad kids, just bad choices. These kids are so good. I adore them. Every child in this school is still a child. Yes, they're dealing with stuff I can't imagine. But they are still sweet children.

I don't get asked about the bathroom anymore. That is strictly real teacher's job. YES!

I feel like I'm forgetting a hundred best moments. I need to write them down!

Ok, see you next week. Maybe.
I am having a hard time finding time/energy to write in this blog.

Treading Softly in Timberlands

It's 10:00 Sunday night. I've been packing the last 5 or 6 hours, and I'm finally done. I leave for school tomorrow at 6:05, and stay until 6:00. Then I ride home, finish the tiny last minute things, and move out at 7:30.

I love you. I miss you.
I'm sorry I forgot to post last week. I wasn't going to post this week either, but then I decided I couldn't call myself a blogger if I don't post when I say I would.
Here is the post I started last week.

City Year is...

Weeks 1 and 2 In School...also, I need to figure out what I write about in this blog.

My idea of keeping a blog was that people would be able to read it as their post church activity. You know, not have to wait until midnight to read it. Hmm.

Well, I'm doing great. Also, I'm convinced that I'm the favorite kid because I am the most exciting to talk about. Lol, mostly I'm just homesick.

But that's ok. It's not the debilitating homesickness that I thought I'd go through, it's the 'I haven't been touched in 4 days and I miss the mandatory after family prayer hugs'. It's the 'I discovered amazing friends just before I moved, how fair is that?' and also the 'I miss my dogs!!!' (That's for you, Emily and Wendy).

Truly, I'm happier than I ever have been in my life. The service I'm providing in is amazing. The people I serve with are equally amazing. The students. I care about them so much. It's crazy, I just met them two weeks ago, when school started. But I know already how much potential they have. How much worth.

I posted on Facebook a few days ago this statement : “A student was shocked today when I told him that I moved away from my family right out of high school all the way to California just to volunteer with City Year. He said "It wasn't worth it. You made a dumb choice."

My goodness, how he's wrong.
I think this is worth every bit.”

It got 16 likes. That's 15 more than my average. :)

I have been getting to know these students only two weeks, but I know a lot about them. They are desperate for someone to listen. To know about their lives. To care about them, and not only about their test scores.

Now, I know that the teachers here are amazing. I'll talk about them in a bit. I know the staff here are great, and they care about the whole child, not just the test scores.

But I am in a great position to get to know these kids in a way these teachers don't get to. To the students, teachers live at school. They're not really people, just teachers. That sounded kind of harsh, but really, think about when you were in school. How much did you know about your teacher's not school life?

These kids are fascinated with the fact that I am the youngest person on my team. Probably mostly because I look 5 or 6 years older than I really am. I am not offended. :P

They love that I ride my bike everywhere. They love that I don't know where to go to college next year, which kind of surprised me. Now it kind of makes sense. No, I don't have my whole life figured out, but I'm working on it. I'm excited to share my college application process with these students. I hope it will make their future more real and possible to them.

(I forgot to write about how really truly awesome the teachers are, but it's almost 10:30 and I wanted to be in bed sleeping 1.5 hours ago. So this is where I would put that paragraph, but it's going to have to wait.)

Here's an example of my day:

5:30 Turn off the alarm.

5:39 Turn off the alarm again. Fall out of bed. Get ready to go.

6:00 Remember you're supposed to eat breakfast. Not to be healthy, but because when you try to convince your students to eat breakfast because it's healthy, you can't be a hypocrite.

6:03 Finish whatever pathetic breakfast you scavenged.

6:05, :06, :08 and :09, run back into the house to grab things you forgot.

6:10 actually leave your house, ride bike 1 hour.

7:20 Arrive at school 10 minutes early. YES! (I despise being late)

7:30 First circle begins. Our team meets in circles so we can see everyone, and have a natural order for things. We do first circles in front of the school. It's great because it keeps us accountable for being on time (it's hard to sneak into a circle), the kids see us, we get our announcements, and get to say goodmorning to everyone.

7:45 Leave first circle (after an epic spirit break) and drop our stuff off in the City Year Room. Yes, we're cool enough to get a room. We're spoiled, I know. Go socialize with kids. Try to learn names. Fail miserably. Keep trying.

7:55 Get schedule from PM or TL (have I mentioned that CY likes acronyms just as much as LDS people do? PM=Project Manager, TL=Team Leader, CY=City Year, LDS=Latter-Day Saint (Yes, Mormons)). Go to first class. We're observing for now, but I'm fairly certain we get our permanent teachers soonish.

9:00 go to second class.

10:00 Prep the Pride Store. I am one half of a two person committee getting the store ready. It opens Monday the 17^th. Oh goodness, that's tomorrow. The Pride Store is an integral part of the school wide incentive program. Students earn pride bucks for completing work, being on best behavior, participating in the lesson, etc. They then get to spend their pride bucks at the store on trinkets and school supplies.

11:00 Go to class. I don't remember when lunch is.

Noon: go to student lunch. More socializing, more pathetic attempts to learn names. I'm getting better, but slowly, because now my grace period is over, and the students are telling my their names are wrong just to confuse me. It works.

1:00 My lunch. Eat lunch, sleep discreetly, make calls to my ornery bank...usual stuff. I'm not supposed to work. Sometimes I do anyway.

2:00 school's out. But I missed a period in there somewhere. I know the bell schedule isn't on the hour, but I didn't think it was that off. Whatever. There should be 6 periods and a lunch.

2:05 After school program starts. Students get a snack in the cafeteria, I get a break.

2:30 Students make their way to their classrooms for homework hour. For the next hour, I tutor some kids, get to know others, and the rest, I peel off the ceiling. JK, no one has found their way onto the ceiling. Some got onto the roof though.

3:30 to 6ish I get to play with kids outside, get to know them, keep them off the roof, no big deal.

6:00 Final circle. Announcements, then personal joys, appreciations, and announcements around the circle, every person signaling the end of their speaking by saying Good night to the group.

6:15 End on a Spirit Break.

6:20 Leave school on bike, pedaling much slower on account of being exhausted.

7:20 Get home. Drink three gallons of water, eat a ridiculous amount of not very healthy food, and then sleep for ever/until 5:30 the next morning.

Errrrday.

Love it.

Some of my best moments:

• Real, actual tutoring. We worked on states and their capitals. I'm remembering the game my parents played with me, and wish I had it here, to play with the students.
• Getting a letter from a student. While it's great that these kids trust City Year already, my heart still hurts a little. I will keep the letter forever. I also look forward to receiving a response to the letter I wrote back.
• Going jogging with a group of kids. This is great because one of the kids had not wanted to participate in the mandatory physical activity, but then was super excited to jog with me. Also great because I had enough stamina to keep jogging. This is an accomplishment, probably as a result of riding a bike at least two hours every day.
• Admitting to myself that I will need help. I am not a math student, and it was awkward for me to tutor someone in math. This doesn't seem like a thing that would warrant a mention on a list of good things, but I think the fact that I can admit this, and ask for help (my friend, Heidi, has been an awesome help. She taught me to do long division over a powerpoint via email) makes me confident in my ability to get squishy.
• I said to my group of students in after school one day that if they would tell me, with a straight face, that they were going to graduate high school and college, then I would let them mess about for the rest of homework hour. No one could. Not because they didn't feel confident in their ability to have a glorious future, but because everytime they got close, I would make a funny face, and they would break down into giggles.
• This one is interesting. It is not a best moment for a teammate, but it is for me. I feel somewhat odd including it. There was a particularly rowdy group of boys in homework hour one day, and my teammate was having a hard time dealing with them. They had insulted him, and were being all sorts of disrespectful. My teammate took some time, and while he was gone, I sat a little closer to the boys. They all turned their attentions on me, and started to wear me down with whatever preteen boy shenanigans. Somehow I got them to explain football to me (yah  right) and all of a sudden they were invested in an information sharing conversation? Woah. Surprise, Amy, you actually can deal with things.
• I got a hug and information: humans need 8-10 meaningful touches a day to be mentally and physically healthy. New goal? Probably not. But interesting nonetheless.

Signing off (and mentally preparing myself for another awesome and exhausting week), 

Amy Barton

Corps Member

City Year Sacramento

PS I told Heidi that I was going to be in bed by 9, but more likely 10 because I still had to write this blog. Look who's still writing at 10:09? Me. pooh.

PSS My Relief Society lesson went really well. BTW, kid from my past who said I would go crazy when I moved out of my parents' and never go to church again, I totally just taught Relief Society. Take that.

PSSS To my readers, I love you. But leave a comment to prove you where here. :)

Kay thanks goodnight.

PSSSS I will post pictures sometime this week. Goal.

Someone should explain to me how a postscript works.

It's time for me to throw starfish

I have been trying to write a post like this for a while now. There's just so much about City Year, that trying to write something about it seems overwhelming.

I love it.

I want to start by sharing a story with you.

T H E   S T A R F I S H   S T O R Y     (SHORTENED VERSION)

A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm.  When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean.  

People watched her with amusement. 

She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this?  Look at this beach!  You can’t save all these starfish.  You can’t begin to make a difference!” 

The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated.  But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean.  Then she looked up at the man and replied, 

“Well, I made a difference to that one!” 

The old man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and said.  Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea.  Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved.

adapted from the star thrower by loren c. eiseley, full version, credit, found here.

I've read several variations of this story throughout my life, and I didn't like them. The versions I read always ended with "well, I made a difference to that one!", but left out the part where the rest of the village helped and saved all the starfish. I thought it was silly, even a waste of time, for one person to spend their time trying to save starfish, the same starfish that would get stuck every season. Surely she couldn't make much of a difference.

Joining City Year, I had moments where I thought: Why am I here? Am I really going to make a difference? And if I do make a difference, will it be big enough to matter?

But I'm here. I will work with kids all year. The 13 corps members will work with students from this school, all year. The 45 corps members in Sacramento will work with students all year. The 2500 corps members across America will work with thousands of students. All Year.

And next year. And the year after that.

We are making a difference. A big one.

And someday, all the starfish students will graduate.



We spent August in training. Long days, full of team building experiences, interesting (but exhausting) lectures, and general getting to know City Year stuff.

The day we first got a uniform part (t-shirts that said City Year on them, and had the Americorps and other national sponsors' logos. ) I put it one in a bathroom stall ( I wouldn't wait until I got home) and danced and sang until someone came in. I quieted down real fast. I wish I could describe the feeling I got. All sorts of pride, excitement, and worry.

Mostly pride. My goodness. I wanted to wear it everywhere. On my bike ride home, I couldn't stop smiling. (That is, until I almost got hit by a car. Well, even then, I was still very much pleased with my life.) There's something about wearing a label that makes that thing more real. At the beginning of August, I was a part of City Year. You could tell because I would tell you. (over and over again because I'm so excited about it) Now, I'm still a part of City Year, but it's easier for you to tell, because every work day from the hours of 6 in the morning to 7 at night, I'm wearing the uniform. My boots, pants, and belt don't have the logo, but the kids have learned that if you're wearing khaki pants, plain belt, and Timberland boots, you're City Year. If that's not enough, I have the logo on the front of my shirt, on my name tag, on my back. It's on my backpack, and my jackets, vest, and other things sport the logo. (the logo is loaded with symbolism. Check it out here.)

I would show you a picture of me in the uniform, but I don't have one, and I'm too tired to play dress up.
Maybe later.

Some time near the beginning of our training, we went on a three day retreat, at Sly Park. Beautiful. We slept in cabins (not tent camping. Thank goodness) and spent our days learning more. More and more and more...

It was there that I was put into my school based team. um. 15 awesome people. All in one team. We can't handle how great it is.

Ok, I know this was random and incomplete, but I'm super tired and want to go to bed. I'll be better next week.

A little bit about my life, plus Discovering Lucy Hannah, or rather, OH my goodness I need to start journaling.

I still don't feel ready to post about City Year. I'll work on that this week, and next Sunday I will tell you about my experiences thus far.

Today I spoke in Church. I was assigned 15 minutes on Knowledge, but the third speaker didn't show up, so I spoke until I had used up all of my prepared material, and then spoke for a little bit more, bore an extensive testimony, and clocked out at 25 minutes. I think it was the best talk I've ever given, and received many compliments. I was referenced in Relief Society, and even made it into someone's quote book! I feel good about the experience, and am grateful I had over prepared.

On Saturday, I had the opportunity to return a woman's stolen purse to her. I had found it on the side of the road cycling home from my school. She was very grateful, as it had her license, social security card, and a bunch of prescription drugs.

On a heavier note, I've become aware of a blogger from the Sacramento area, who was excommunicated from the LDS church for acting on his homosexual desires. As I understand it, he was in a relationship with a male, and his membership was removed, canceled, revoked, whatever phrase I'm supposed to use. He posted on his blog how depressed he was, and his plans for committing suicide.

It was pointed out by The Weed in This post. MoHoFoSho's blog post is located here. No one has heard from him, or even knows if he's alive.

I pray for this boy.



I wrote this a few weeks ago, well aware that there would be a week where I wouldn't be able to write a full post. So, just to give you something to read... here it is.

                                                                                                       

 Discovering Lucy Hannah

We urge our young people to begin today to write and keep records of all the important things in their own lives and also the lives of their antecedents in the event that their parents should fail to record all the important incidents in their own lives. Your own private journal should record the way you face up to challenges that beset you. Do not suppose life changes so much that your experiences will not be interesting to your posterity. 

This is from an article written by President Spencer W. Kimball. You can read the full thing here.

We know we're supposed to write in journals. We've had countless lessons (at least, those of us who are mormon, and I think all three of my readers are) on why it's important to keep a record. For our posterity, for ourselves, so the angels above us silent notes taking have a book to be taking notes on.

I've been thinking about this a lot recently, because I discovered Lucy Hannah White Flake.

Storytime!

The second-to-last time I went to Institute in Auburn, I had a real, actual conversation with my teacher. The next morning, I went to Summer Seminary (I'm pro at the double life) and we started talking again. I (or Max. Not sure, but should probably give him some credit...) anyway, someone told him we were going on a trip. He asked to where we were vacationing, where in Arizona, what family are you from...really? Me too!

We have the same third great grandfather. (I think) Maybe someone who knows his email address can forward this to him, and he can come and correct it? Anyway, we got really excited, and he spent the first 10 minutes of class teaching us about William Jordan Flake.

William Jordan Flake 
1839-1932
Photo Credit here.

He's kind of amazing. He gave freely of his resources to people who needed it, and then burned the books that kept a record of the things people owed him. He did what he was called to do by the church, he went where he was needed, and when he was sent to prison for his belief, he turned the miserable place upside down, starting with getting rid of the rancid meat they were being fed and improved the work, and counseled the other inmates.

Yes, William is a great man. But his wife, Lucy...

It was her autobiography that Brother Bushman lent me.

The two hundred pages of this wonderful record are filled with the stories of her life, of the lives of her husband and children. My heritage is found in these papers.

Lucy Hannah White Flake
(1849-1900)
Photo Credit here

She faced her trials, of which there were many, with a faith, dignity, and perseverance that I hope to somehow ingrain in my character, and someday teach my children.

She thought for herself, and formed her own opinions, writing “I don't believe in equal rights. I would like the franchise, but I am perfectly willing to let the men kill the snakes, build the bridges, smooth down the high places, and hold the offices.”

Not that she idled her time. Quite the opposite. “Our nearest store was in Salt Lake City, two hundred and twenty miles away. We had to make what we could, such as lye, soap, starch, candles, thread, yarn, cloth, clothes, socks, stockings, gloves, and in many instances, our shoes. I had learned to spin when a little girl...we wove all the cloth we wore, our blankets, rugs, etc. We wore our clothes as long as we could, then the best parts were taken to make clothes for smaller children, and the scraps for a quilt. When they were too near gone for any of these they were torn into strips, the ends sewed together, and woven into rugs.”

My 'feminist' friends may say that she wasted her life taking care of her family, but that, to me, is not waste. Righteously raising a family is the best that anyone can ever do in this life.

What most impressed me is her response to her husband when he asked “Lucy, dear, could you share your husband with another woman?”

Now, I'm certainly not going to profess to understand the law of polygamy, but I will promise to you that I believe Lucy, William, and their eventual sister wife received personal revelation that they followed as best as they could.

She struggled with that. Of course she did. She wrote “I flung my arms around his neck, and held him, as though I would never let him go. My eyes were brimming with tears. Of course I was not willing. He was mine. Mine by all the laws of man and God...Why should I let someone else come between us?”

But something changed. After days of praying, and struggling with God, she came to a decision. When William returned from a three day trip, she took him out for a walk.

“Will,” She asked “Who is the young lady we are going to marry?”

“We?” He gasped.

“Yes, we. We were made one a long time ago, you and I, who are we going to marry?”

She recorded later “I was his first and for ten years his only love. If in that time I had not found a place in his heart and life that no other could fill – then I had failed.”

She didn't fail. “On October 9, 1868, William and Prudence were married by the same power that had sealed us for time and eternity.”

Lucy often cared for Prudence's children their mother was ill. They worked together, they raised a family.

Now, I don't know my future, but I doubt I'll be called to make the same sacrifices Lucy ever had to make.

It was through her writing that I learned to love my ancestors. Her son, Charles Love Flake, was my 2^nd grandfather (I should check this, but new.familysearch.org is down) and he is as impressive as his parents. I felt a real pain when his death was written of.

When I think of the benefits of journal writing, I think of this example. A woman, righteously striving to care for her family, keeping a journal that in 200 hundred years would help her great, great, great granddaughter overcome some certain struggles.

But I couldn't write anything so inspiring. I don't do anything worth writing down. I spend too much time thinking about living that I forget to actually live, let alone keep a record of my life.

Or at least, I thought that, until I read this, another snippet from the article I hope you take the time to read fully here.

“No one is commonplace, and I doubt if you can ever read a biography from which you cannot learn something from the difficulties overcome and the struggles made to succeed. These are the measuring rods for the progress of humanity.” 

This is a blog that will keep me in touch with the people I left behind. It is a platform from which I can promote my volunteering, my cycling, and my religion. It is practice for the writing that I will do someday as I carefully record my autobiography. It might inspire some. It might make some think less of me. It might help some.

It will help me.

Photo Credit here

Music: Marvin Goldstein's Favorites From the Children's Songbook and Jenny Phillips' Arise and Shine Forth: Songs for Youth 2012

Worry: I'll get lost again on my bike when I go out tomorrow.

Amy Barton, girl who writes essays on Family History for fun/because she can't sleep.

Let me know in a comment any tips you have for keeping a journal, or any stories you have of reading someone's journal.


Also, I'm so using this as tonight's gospel study.

My Cycling Mantra

I ride my bike a lot. It's my main mode of transportation. Some people have cars, trucks, magical capes...I have a bicycle. Equally awesome as the cape.

It's a 2011 Marin Olema, white, with fenders and a bike rack. It's a hybrid, so not nearly as heavy as a mountain bike, but a bit heavier than a road bike. I have not yet named it. (A fact that has caused multiple friends of mine great distress)

This is my bike. I really, really like it.

I love riding it. I really do. I had been riding my brother's mountain bike in Auburn, kind of as a commuter, and I'm glad I don't have to do that anymore, because hauling that thing up Lea Hill was a PAIN. And it was too tall.

The roads in Sacramento are surprisingly bike friendly, and it's super great because it's so flat. Really, very flat. The only incline is an overpass. I'm not sure what will happen when I visit Auburn again and try to ride up my beloved Lea Hill, but maybe because of the fact that I'm riding every day, I might not have too hard of a time.

I am riding every day, except Sunday. This past week was the start of City Year Sacramento (more to come on that later, I promise!) and every day we've met at a different site, pretty much all over South Sacramento. It's great because every night before I sleep I get to stare at something from Google maps and try not to panic. I haven't been late yet, and I've only gotten super lost on the way home, so that's good.

We met on Monday at Shasta Park, about 10 miles away from where I'm living now. I got a ride there, with my bike in the back of the truck, because I didn't know how to get there or how long it would take me, but I was to ride my bike home that afternoon. Being the middle of a Sacramento Summer, it was rather uncomfortably warm when I left. And I rode for 3.5 miles in the wrong direction before I figured it out. I ran out of water, still didn't know where I was, so I stopped, chained my bike to a railing, and found myself in front of a frozen yogurt place.

Now, kind of a side note, but Yogurtland had become 'The Place' to hang out, back in Auburn, and my friends would take at least a biweekly trip there. So I was familiar with the cold, sweet treat that was offered within and decided it was worth the 49 cents an ounce.

Thoroughly refreshed and less frustrated, I left, with new instructions from the nice boy behind the counter. Turn right, ride for three years, turn left, two more years, and maybe you'll make it home if you don't get hit by a truck.

I rode until I was pretty sure I only had 10 more minutes of travel to go, when I got ridiculously dizzy and practically fell. Onto train tracks.

I took a half hour nap on the side of the road.

Ok, I was only half sleeping, and I had my feet on my bike so I would know if it was moved, and it wasn't the side of the road really, it was a grassy place between the road and a parking lot. And the half hour also included a twenty minute conversation with my best friend, who was still back home in Auburn. She got a kick out of the froyo.

That was Monday. Tuesday was just a 45 minute jaunt down a busy street, and Wednesday was a bit longer, but only an hour trip. Thursday and Friday were at an elementary school that was supposed to only be a 50 minute bike ride, but I passed the hour mark because I didn't want to take the route google told me too. I would rather go NW on one road and then SW on another than to turn 17 times.

There are a lot of bike lanes in Sac City. Unfortunately, they are a terror to ride on because it seems like everyone pulls over to punch out their windows, and would rather stick their yard debris and trash cans in the road than on their sidewalks or driveway.

I would rather ride in traffic, because people do see you, and they usually won't hit you. I've been cursed at once, but that was because I forgot to signal turning right. I'm sorry, but I was turning right, and there weren't any other cars. :P

I've been laughed at a few times, usually right after I fall off of my bike. Which has happened more often than I thought it would, but I blame it on having a very off balance bag on my right side. And my inability to stand on a flat, stable surface without falling over.

There are lots of trucks though. That's kind of a terrifying part. Not just dodge pickups, but actual semi trucks, with single or double trailers, and oversize warning signs that cyclists can't see until the truck is passed them.

Which brings me to another part.

I looked up some cycling laws for California, and was ordered to 'ride in the middle of the lane to discourage passing with inadequate room'. Um...I'd rather ride on the side of the road and pray they have enough room than ride in the middle and have them drive three feet behind me leaning on their horns.

I often find myself repeating over and over: “Please don't hit me, please don't hit me. I'm trying to serve your community so you need me alive! Please don't...” That's my mantra. It starts as I'm leaving my house “I'm feeling gooooood, and I'm riding my biiiiike, and I'm haaaappy...” and morphs in to “Just keep pedaling, just keep pedaling, just keep...” as the day goes on and I get more exhausted.

Enough complaining. I apologize. For the most part, I have really loved riding my bike around. I have a cute light for when I start riding in the dark, and a reflective vest. I also have a Kryptonite lock (link here) that weighs a ton but gives me complete confidence leaving my bike chained up for long periods of time. I wear my helmet wherever I go (via bike, not just wandering around with it, although some people do that, and that's good for them. Go Safety!) even though it's not the law here.

The ridiculously heavy lock combo.
 No, you will not be stealing my bike today, sir!
Nor will you be walking off with my wheels.

I've also mastered the transportationalist's stationary wave. No, that's not it's real title, and no, it's not even a word. But I digress. You know that awkward “Thanks for not hitting me even though I just accidentally cut you off” wave? Well, it applies to cyclists as well. In this situation it means 'thank you for waiting patiently as I got out of your way before you rush by me/sorry for not paying attention/thanks for not hitting me.'

As you can see, the wave is quite versatile and handy for cyclists.

Now, I'm going to stop trying to think of things to write about cycling because I just received a call from my Branch President. Guess who's speaking in Church next week? Yup. It's me. 15 minutes of me time.

My ring and pinkie fingers on my right hand are permanently numb. I'm kind of freaking out about this.

Will bike gloves help? What type?

Disneyland's Not the Happiest Place on Earth

The Temple is. End of story.

I'm exhausted, but I wanted to try to post every Sunday, at least. So, this past weekend has been great because I've spent it at the California YSA Conference. All the young single adults gathered in their temple districts and spent the weekend meeting each other, going to workshops, eating, giving blood, singing, playing games...doing whatever.

It was fun.

Goodnight.

A Rad Veggie House – My Lost Dream

Housing is a pain to find.

I went into it thinking, Ok, I'll find a studio apartment like my sister did her second year of college. A room big enough for a bed, couch, desk, and a bathroom and small kitchen. It will be across the street from the church building, and down the street from my volunteer spot. It would have a bike trail going 30 miles in either direction. It would have a large park, public pool, and why not add in a dog?

Yeah. Housing doesn't work like that.

When I was starting to search, I didn't know what I was looking for. But I knew what my Dad thought would be a good idea. So that heavily influenced what I clicked on. A few of the links I looked at just because they had a catchy heading.

“Rad Veggie House with Cool Chicks”

I clicked on it, kind of afraid of what might load on my screen.

“Do you want to live in a beautiful clean house? Do seek a community of like-minded individuals? Do you say YES to veggies?” Do you love puppies and rainbows and tofu? How about discussions on the merits of pranayamamanama vs asha and zudo or Zimbabwe?*

photo credit

It seemed perfect. A group of girls, all vegetarian? Living super close to where I wanted to live? Near a park and bike trail and volunteer site and church? Alas, it was not to be. For a few different reasons. one being it was a few hundred dollars more each month than what I wanted to pay.

But living away from your parents has some interesting aspects. So, the past few days, I've really had to adjust to not living with them. No one wakes me up when I've been sleeping to dang long, no one reminds me to eat, or do something besides facebook stalk people. No one tells me that I shouldn't bother to write a blog at 10 at night because no one will read it anyway and my eyelids are glueing shut. Actually, no one has to tell me that last one, I've got it down.

I don't have to tell anyone where I go. I don't have to go to places.

I decided I was too tired to go to a fireside on Sunday night. And FHE on Monday night. And Institute, whatever day it is. Too tired for that.

So I have to be more accountable/responsible/not lazy.

But there are other things.

I'm paying for room and board, which means that I don't buy my own food. Right now, that's a great deal, but also means I'm putting my vegetarian dreams on hold. Because dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets are too good to give up.

Ok, I only ate those once.

I haven't found the bike trails yet, but that's not too bad, because I have traveled at least 15 miles every day by bike. I'm enjoying it.

The Church building isn't within walking distance, but the nice boy next door gave me a ride on Sunday. So that was good.

I don't live near the other corps members, or any of our volunteer sites, but that's ok, because I am really enjoying my bike rides.

And the family I live with is great.

So, rad veggie chicks aside, I like my living situation.

 photo credit

Maybe later I'll start cooking.

Amy Barton, super tired halfblogger who had a great but long day today.

Anyone out there know of some good vegetarian dishes? How about your stories as a person trying to find to find your own housing for the first time? Let me know in the comments.

*I have a great deal of respect for both Yoga and the people of Zimbabwe.

Happy Birthday To Me! An Introduction

I wrote this on Monday, July 23rd. Much has happened since then, 

but I've been to busy/distracted to write about it.

 I'll be better about that. Really.

I'm sitting in my hotel room in Boise, Idaho, listening to the soundtrack to How To Train Your Dragon. This is interesting, because I know it so well that I can't concentrate on what I'm writing, because I'm imagining the scenes from the movie in my head. I've started this post over a few times now.

This morning I was in Auburn, WA. I was trying to get my stuff to fit in my bags, download new indexing batches, help/stay out of the way, and keep myself from freaking out.

I waved at everything when we left. Goodbye house. Goodbye random cat. Street, Jackie's house, old college, entrance to a friend's street. Then we got on the highway, drove for a little while, realized we forgot something, and went back home. Kind of awesome, like when you say goodbye to a friend in a hallway and end up walking in the same direction, so you say goodbye again, but this time it's different, because you already got the closure that from saying farewells.

But...it was different. It was my home, but not my house. It was my parent's house.

This is a picture of Max sleeping. I decided to share it with you for two reasons:
1) It makes me happy.
2) Blogs without pictures are dull.

Any way.

This is my introduction.

Several people have asked me to keep in touch, let them know what I'm doing. A few of them have asked for a blog specifically. Of course, knowing this is attention and an opportunity to practice writing, I was happy to oblige. Maybe the true impetus to this blog is that I really am excited about my life and want to share the details with the people I can't call and talk to forever. I'll keep this blog until my bursting social schedule is too straining. This is mostly a joke, seeing as how many friends I have in Sacramento. Umm, so far, I know the names of 3 people. That must count for something.

I'll try to write about the things people actually care about, like what City Year is, why I'm doing it, and how it's going, as well as other random things I want to share with the world, which can include anything from how I spend my day to cool things about Sacramento, and even a description of my religious views! Ok, warning, religion is my life. So you'll probably/definitely see a lot of that. If you are an avid Mormon hater, tough luck.

Ok, this really is my introduction.

My name is Amy Barton. I am 17 years old (while writing this. I'm fairly certain I'm going to start my weekly blog posts on the Sunday after I move in, which, coincidentally, is my 18^th birthday. This is relevant.)

I am a full-time volunteer for City Year. My program starts on August 8^th, so I'm exploring Sac City until then.

This is the City Year Logo. It is highly symbolic.
 You can learn about it here.
 Also,  learn about City Year by reading my page about it.

I love everything. Well, most things. I hate oysters and poverty and slugs.

I thought I'd let you know, I'm now listening to Symphonic Pink Floyd because the soundtrack was too distracting.

Why I'm here: I want to add my voice to the raging cacophony of the interwebs. I want my friends and family to know what's going on with my life. I want to uplift and inspire to action the people who don't know that they can do something great with their life right out of high school! I want an obligation to write in a journal like format at least once a week (because my avid readers, all three of them, will hunt me down whilst foaming at the mouth wanting more, more, MORE vicarious living through the exploits of a semi mature, fully awkward, very committed justoutofhighschool bright eyed girl who just wants to make a difference in a positive manner to someone, somewhere.

And guess what? I am going to make a difference. This is going to be hard work. But I am excited. And I have a support system. And I have my faith.

Not why I'm here: to attract thousands of readers and pay my college tuition (preferably Scotland) by use of advertisements. The worst thing that could happen to this blog would be to go viral. I'm not interested in that.

Word of day: Impetus

Music: Symphonic Pink Floyd. I haven't ever actually listened to real Pink Floyd Stuff, but this is good writing music.

Book: One Man's Bible, by Gao Xingjian. Kind of an autobiography, except different. But I'm only 3 pages into it, because I got carsick. Hopefully I'll remember to edit that out later.

Service: Indexing (almost done with personal progress)

Worry: Tires deflating in the car because it is so weighed down with my junk ( I mean highly valuable and relevant objects in my possession). Also that it wouldn't all fit, but it did, because Dad is master puzzle sir likeaboss. Car tires haven't gone flat.

Mender Tercies: I found a good deal on a mouse and laptop case. Also, I was able to see two of my favorite people this morning. I haven't gotten carsick. We got a room upgrade at the hotel, so Max doesn't have to sleep on the floor, and I can have the room as cold as I want. Excuse me when I go lower the thermometer a few more degrees.