Musings

Where have I been? I wish I had taken the time to chronicle it all along the way. I have been enjoying summer with my wonderful boyfriend. I have been starting the most trying school year of my life (with one notable exception which was so all-around-bizarre that I have chosen not to take it into account), and I have been slogging through a difficult semester in graduate school. All at once. I used to pride myself on being a very adaptable person. And relative to many, I suppose I am. But what I have learned about myself this year is that change takes its toll on me. Perhaps it always has, and I have never been as chameleonesque as I had believed, but NOW, I have achieved awareness of it. And frankly, I think I prefer ignorance. Oh! Or perhaps it is that as I have grown up, I have become more of a creature of habit, or better said, comfort. By that, I mean that maybe I know myself better now, and with that greater self-knowledge, I make more suitable choices, enjoy them, and I feel out of sorts when change occurs. I like that interpretation. It's far more like the me I thought I knew than considering that perhaps I was just getting "set in my ways" or, God forbid, in a rut. I am taking a class this semester from a wise old sage of a professor who continually makes the statement, "Life is an empathy test." You know what? He is absolutely right. I think of it all the time. He also used some magical words one night in class that completely shifted my world: "You are not the only one, and you are not to blame." I heard those words in the midst of what had been one of the most trying situations I've ever endured with a five-year-old student. Five weeks into the school year as I was going home (or to graduate school) right on time, exhausted from having spent the entire day trying to keep him from hurting himself or someone else, trying to ensure that at least one person was learning in spite of him and/or trying to figure out what caused his spontaneous outbursts, I learned that I was not the only one and that I was NOT to blame. On one glorious Friday, I received a 161 page therapy report detailing TWO years of private therapy to try and identify and modify all the same behaviors I was noticing in my class. You mean, I'm not a complete failure as a teacher? I did not get a $50,000 college education simply to be reduced to functioning essentially as an animal trainer? What a relief! If only I could have read those words and felt that reassurance a month earlier, perhaps I would not have called my doctor seeking some kind of pharmaceutical therapy. Clearly, God knew the report was on its way, because my doctor, usually very prompt, has yet to return my phone call! For that, I am grateful. I have been taking a Masters level statistics class. For whatever it's worth, I've learned that it bears the distinction of being my first "B" in grad school, but when I consider that it very well might have been my first "C" which would have required taking it again, for that, too, I am grateful. And the professor has assured me that not one single person will ever ask me what grade I made in his statistics course. Then I felt sorry for him. Bad enough that he had to stand up there for three hours every week in front of a classroom full of future social scientists and try to make us as excited as he was about mean, median and mode . . . but to know that no one will ever ask or care what grade we made in his class. I just don't think I could get out of bed for that every morning. Life is starting to shift onto a more even keel these days. I cannot believe Thanksgiving is next week -- it used to feel like such a milestone, and now it just feels like another holiday that has crept up too soon. I think that starting school two weeks later than usual really did a number on me. Back to my adaptability deficit, I guess. Anyway, perhaps it's a lesson I must learn about myself to help me to better understand others. I have always been the "call at the last minute to go to the movies" friend. Now, I think I know how frustrating that must have been for my friends. I have also figured out that the more structure I have, the better I function. It's something I wish I would have known about myself a long time ago, because I feel like I might have been much more productive. Don't worry -- I am not forsaking my capricious nature altogether. I've still got it. It just seems that I have to put it on hold from time to time in order to honorably fulfill some of the life-roles I have chosen for myself: friend, girlfriend, student, teacher. And for some of the life roles which have chosen me: sister, daughter, aunt. It feels good to write again. I love it so much that I question why I leave it behind sometimes. When I know that I can pick up a pen or a computer and spill out whatever words are swimming around on my tongue, whether on the tip or at the back, and life will immediately be better. Perhaps that is what I should vow to myself. Perhaps.

My Dream Couch

Ahhhh. Covetousness. I am experiencing it. Every time I go into Macy's, I sit on this couch. I want it. I must have it. I feel strongly about it. It exemplifies everything I love. Lounging in comfort. Brightness. Easy-to-clean-ness. Conversation. Relationship. Community. Yes, this couch is all that. And more. I think that when I get married, I am going to register for this couch. And just see what happens. Click on "My Dream Couch" above. You'll fall in love, too.

My World

Is good. No, it's great. I am having a lovely summer -- a little travel, to different places, in new ways, with new people. I am America-bound and have no international travel opps on the horizon. And you know what? I'm okay with that. I think it's a sign of a new contentment in me. Perhaps a new perspective that the grass up under my own two feet is as green as it gets. I have learned so much about myself in the past year or so. I have figured out an awful lot about what motivates me, what drives me. I have learned that I cannot function optimally without some powerful, upward, edifying spiritual activity in my life. Stagnation comes quickly, and it becomes all-consuming. But the good news is that the pot is easy to stir up, and whatever it is in me that God moves is bubbling very gently just below the surface if I get too far out of fellowship. I have a new thought on contentment. Sometimes, it frightens us. It makes us question and wonder. Is it real? Why have I avoided it for all these years? Am I my own worst enemy? Why must I always look for something that's not quite right? Do I not believe I deserve this contentment? Is that why I question my way right out of it back into that all-too-comfortable quagmire of discontent? Where did I learn that I did not have a right to be at peace? Did someone, somewhere, teach me that I could not be at my creative best if I was a happy person, surrounded by supportive people? Did I fall to that myth? Did I let it become my truth? It's not like it's easier or more fun to be in a constant state of unease, querying, doubting. Absolutely not. It's like a cancer . . . it eats away at my self-confidence . . . it gnaws at my belief in the usefulness of my gifts and abilities . . . it sends me into a state of reclusiveness . . . why? It convinces me that rebelling against the norm makes me better or stronger or more likely to succeed. But does it? Or does it just catapult me back into another quicksand of questioning? Some time ago, I wrote that I was entering a phase of my life where I wanted fewer question marks and more exclamation points. And I got them! Does that make me apathetic? Inert? Sheeplike? No. It makes me assertive. And in charge. Of my own choices, both good and bad for me. And it makes me responsible. For my own life. And the results those choices yield for me. I am important to me, and I know that I am important to my friends and family who love me. They tell me so. Sometimes, they don't, actually, but they show me so. And that is how they love me. They affirm me. And they support me. And encourage me. And remind me that I love them, too, in the process. Thank you, friends and family, for reading this, because even if you never tell me that you did, I will benefit someday from the beauty of who you are.

Timing

In the past several years, more than all the previous years combined, I have heard people talk about God's perfect timing. At first, it sort of made me want to roll my eyes, but I decided that I would work to shed a little of the cynicism with which I had clothed myself for most of my life and just be quiet and pay attention. Little by little, I began to see what they were talking about. Little things. Big things. Life-changing things. And all of a sudden, I felt really small. But, surprisingly, not insignificant. I felt like a small cog in a very universal and complex mechanism. And I knew that if I was not doing my part, not paying attention, not remaining open to the truth that I was not only important in the process and functioning of the universe, but altogether essential . . . my inaction and apathy could cause the whole thing to spin out of control. Again, much to my surprise, I did not feel pressure, but rather, I felt a real sense of honor and importance. I understood for the first time my uniqueness, my contribution, and its essence. That is not to say that I always know exactly what to do, who to talk to, or where to go. But it is to say that I no longer make quite so many choices based simply on what feels good in the moment, how I will directly benefit, or how much my pride gets stroked. I have to say that the whole epiphany yielded a sense of great relief. An understanding that I did not have to win every time, shine brighter than everyone else, or have the right answer. And you know what? When I decided to shut up and listen and observe, yield to others and confess my lack of understanding . . . guess what happened? I felt more like a winner, a student, and someone with an inner glow rather than an outer blinding light. I like me better this way. There have been many areas of my life in which I have seen the value of trusting God's timing rather than my own inconsistent-condensation-under-the-crystal, run-down-battery version. I started graduate school at exactly the right time. I began my wonderful dating relationship at exactly the right time. I earned time to be a little bit lazy just when I needed to learn to be still. And I woke up in the middle of the night tonight just in time to write this journal entry. Maybe you just woke up too, and you needed something to read. I don't know. I was thinking today about how great it would be if everyone on earth was genuinely empathetic. Then I wondered if an individual can show him or herself empathy. Is that what people mean when they tell someone to be kind to themselves? To grant themselves a little grace? I don't know about you, but it's always been much easier for me to empathize with someone else than with myself. What makes that happen? I'm sure my studies will lead me to the answer since I already feel like I'm developing some hypotheses on the subject. What brought about that line of thinking today was the age-old mystery of pre-menstrual syndrome and its termite-like effects on a woman's ability to see all that she KNOWS is great about herself. And how it feels near futile to help anyone but another woman really understand the uniqueness of it all. I mean, have any of you women reading this ever experienced some PMS moment where someone says something to you, and even though you know in your heart that they did not mean for the result to be devastating to your self-worth, you have to take a long while to convince yourself of that? Isn't it ridiculous that you can leave your house, 100% satisfied, even proud, of everything about you, and one person can notice one flaw, and you all of a sudden can no longer access even the fond memory of all that you loved about yourself a short twenty minutes ago? It's just stupid. Can I get a witness? Enough of that. I know it's fairly universal, but I guess I wonder about it more at some times than others. Back to timing. The clock indicates that I should have been sleeping for at least four hours by now, and I have defied it. I must make another effort. I have lots of adventure coming my way in the next week.

Eat, Pray, Love

Since March, which, according to the date of my last entry here, I have been doing other things. Things other than what, you ask? Things other than writing and reading for pleasure. I have been traversing the path through graduate school. I have been teaching bilingual kindergarten. I have been being in love. I have been learning anew through all of these amazing experiences. All exclusive of writing and reading for pleasure. But I think it was a necessary break. Why? Because it made me realize how much a part of me both of those activities are. And how important it is to my creative soul that I learn to keep them integrated into my life, even at its busiest. My friend Helena came to visit me earlier this year, and we squeezed all we could into her 1 day visit. And as usual, we talked about books. She was part of the Nashville book club, whose sense of community and sisterhood I still long for six years later. That group of women, eclectic by design, was a beautiful cross-section of all that makes life grand. They were (and most likely still are) beautiful, intelligent, sensual, humorous, introspective, provocative and had a sense of social interest. We made democratic decisions about the books we chose to read, and we shared openly our thoughts and opinions upon having finished (or at least having attempted to finish) each one. Reading those books on a loose deadline did not feel like work. It felt like taking one's own path toward a common destination. And of course, at the end of the journey, there was food. And usually wine. And lots of conversation. What, on planet earth, could be a better way to spend one evening each month? I digress. Back to the book at hand. Helena brought with her to my house a book she was beginning to read by Elizabeth Gilbert called Eat, Pray, Love. I looked it over, thought, "Wish I had time to read this one..." and returned it to her. A few weeks ago, with my first semester of graduate school and its final exams behind me, I stopped in at Borders to shop. And this book was the one that caught my eye. I snapped it off the shelf and went to the checkout. I was on my way to help my boyfriend, Chris, at his school's baccalaureate service, but I expected a little down time between preparation and execution of the duties. Within the first five pages, I had already laughed out loud three times. A good sign. And I thanked God that the first book I had picked up to read for pleasure in over six months appeared to be one that would deliver what I needed: pleasure. So, as with all things, any activity, art, creative venture that seamlessly incorporates several of my favorite activities -- eating, praying and loving, in this case -- begins with an unfair advantage. Favorite films? Like Water For Chocolate, Babette's Feast, Spanglish, Mostly Martha, Chocolat. Honestly, how can you go wrong mixing food and love? They are both driven by passion. And this book folds in faith, which when at its mutually beneficial and ideal best, is the hub of all other passions in life. I am loving it. I woke up at 3:41 a.m. this morning. I am certain that it was not because I had logged enough hours of sleep (I read until about 11:30 p.m. last night); but I wonder if it might have something to do with wanting to continue reading about Ms. Gilbert's journey through Italy in 2003? It's 6:37 a.m., now, and I have had some shredded wheat with strawberries and some Costa Rican coffee. And I am on page 106. "It is better to live your own destiny imperfectly than to live an imitation of somebody else's life with perfection." (from The Bhagavad Gita) That is a strong statement, don't you agree? How many of us have slogged through phases in our lives, preparing or studying to reach someone else's goal for our lives? Or have pushed down our own hopes and dreams to fulfill those of another person? I have done this to some degree. Luckily, I have caught myself pretty quickly before the quicksand of a dream unfulfilled pulled me under completely. Right now, I am happy to say, I am doing exactly what I want while diligently preparing to fulfill another destiny that I want with all my being. There are a few pages in this book (103-105) that make reference to one Italian man's theory that "every city has a single word that defines it, that identifies most people who live there. If you could read people's thoughts as they were passing you on the streets of any given place, you would discover that most of them are thinking the same thought. Whatever the majority thought might be -- that is the word of the city. And if your personal word does not match the word of the city, then you don't really belong there." Then he lets Liz know that Rome's word is SEX. This sets the author to thinking about her hometown of New York City's word: ACHIEVE. The word for Los Angeles: SUCCEED. So of course, this provokes me to think about MY word. I have rattled through several. It used to be CAPRICIOUS (I came up with that one playing an icebreaker game at First Baptist Church in Waco, Texas, 1986). It's not so much that anymore, although capriciousness still definitely is part of my personality's tapestry. FAITH? Maybe. Because faith is certainly the foundation of who and what I am. But is it constant and unwavering? I would like to think so, but I would never worry or feel anxiety or have wrenching muscle pain in my neck and shoulders if I did not have chinks in that armour, now would I? AMBITIOUS? Mmmmm. It's only one aspect. GRACIOUS? I wish that defined me all the time. DOMESTIC GODDESS. Apocalypse now. Heavens, no. EMPATHETIC? Getting warmer. COMPASSIONATE? Warmer still. KIND. Maybe that's what I would LIKE it to be. Excavating this word will take more time and thought. The past week has been one of great growth. Of great discovery. Of deep revelation of thoughts and feelings and values. And of celebrating the ability and willingness to communicate. The train is going by. I love it. I think I must always be near the train. Not this train in particular. Just some train. I could always hear one from my house in Nashville. I cannot remember if there was one nearby in Waco. But I probably had not learned to be attentive to such things at that young age, either. In the book, Liz's sister Catherine comes to visit, and she describes her this way: "She arrives in Rome, prepared as ever. She brings five guidebooks, all of which she has read already, and she has the city pre-mapped in her head. She was completely oriented before she even left Philadelphia. And this is a classic example of the differences between us. I am the one who spent my first weeks in Rome wandering about, 90 percent lost and 100 percent happy, seeing everything around me as an unexplainable beautiful mystery. But this is how the world kind of always looks to me. To my sister's eyes, there is nothing which cannot be explained if one has access to a proper reference library. This is a woman who keeps THE COLUMBIA ENCYCLOPEDIA in her kitchen next to the cookbooks -- and reads it, for pleasure . . . So my sister comes to visit me in Rome -- in my new city -- and then shows it to me. This is Rome, Catherine-style. Full of facts and dates and architecture that I do not see because my mind does not work in that way. The only thing I ever want to know about any place or any person is the STORY, this is the only thing I watch for -- never for aesthetic details." Interesting. I am much more like Liz than Catherine. I do generally have an idea, when travelling, where I want to go on particular day or what I want to see -- but in retrospect, I think that is primarily due to that fact the I always knew I had some level of ADHD (the lack of focus, inattentive version), and if I did not make at least a skeletal plan, my trip would be over, and I would not have seen or done one thing that I had intended. I love the lack of an agenda, though, and a day with no plans. And a day with no companion, from time to time. I think it sounds like an amazing adventure to go to a beautiful place with someone, spend a day separately, meeting locals, taking photographs, writing stories and then to reconvene to lay on the loom each person's unique perspective to weave it all together. I am taking a trip to Colorado this summer with Chris and his family -- maybe we can make a day like that while we are there.

New

I just ate Wheaties from a wine glass.

Publishing A Memoir

I wonder if I will ever stop thinking that someone, someday, will want to read my life story? I hope not. Because that would be some kind of permission to stop recording it. Maybe I am just writing all this stuff to make sure, one day, that I remember my life! If I am to become anything like my father in the memory department, I am wise with this kind of forethought. Maybe if understanding the importance of sharing your life stories with your children has not become important to you by the time you are 50, it never will.

Cabin, Indeed!

This, as I pretty much expected, is a full-blown home. Complete with laundry room and waterfront deck. I think there is part of some river zipping through the front/back yard. Sleep was pretty much lovely last night. I woke a few times, but I think it was more toward the time my body thought I was going to be late for work! Ha! Tricked it. Not only am I not going to work -- I do not even have access to work from here! I am really going to relax while here because there will be virtually no chance for anything of the sort when I return to Mesquite. I got up and made coffee, scrambled eggs with cheese, soy sausage and just had some shredded wheat 'n' bran with fresh strawberries. De-lish. I told Chris this was going to be our "launch" week. I really want to make goal before Easter. I think I only gained .4 pounds this last week, but at the beginning, shortly after the beer-fest (North Texas Irish Festival), it was more like three (before the decimal). Enough of that. We will decide we want to live. Or we will decide we want to die a little more on purpose every day -- like the vast majority of the American population. I choose life. I've got a lot of it left -- I have a good one, and it's getting better. I know love. I know God. I know friendship. And I am learning to recognize and appreciate it all more everyday. I started a new novel last night, but I was so sleepy, I only made it five pages. But my basic goal is as small as one page of leisure-reading per day, so in that, I scored a 500%! We were driving along yesterday, and Chris was asking me geographic and historical questions, and I just had no answers. It felt very strange, so of course, I started thinking about why I know so very little about where I am from, and I came up with a few theories: * I did not pay attention because I was too busy creating and living in fantasy worlds because the world I lived in felt unsafe. * I did not pay attention. * No one told me all that stuff (or I did not pay attention). I don't really remember history being that big of a value in my immediate family. Maybe it was because I felt like my "present" was really more akin to the "past" since it seemed we were so far behind the rest of the world! Really and Eureka! That might be it! I was so confused when I began to live in both worlds -- country mouse and city mouse -- that I had to choose one to be my "present" and one to leave behind in the "past." This theory really resonates with me right now. I remember that July 4th trip to Manhattan Beach, and Josh and I went to see THE PATRIOT with Mel Gibson. (Starring Mel Gibson, that is, we were not sharing popcorn with him; however, Christopher Knight aka Peter Brady, was sitting right behind us in the theater). There was this scene where someone came across trunks and remains of a person's personal effects -- furniture, clothing, utensils. And I just started to cry. I realized for the first undeniable time, that I had been so hell-bent on de-identifying myself with that rural upbringing and with not embracing the good that it instilled in (which was quite a bit), that I had lost my identity altogether. I had not just detached from the part of it that caused me distress -- I had cut the cord completely and sent it ALL out of my consciousness. I did not know, until I shared the stories that used to embarass me, that my life had been one of technicolor in a world where many people's lives were only monochromatic. And I felt guilty. I felt like in denying that that life was mine, I was denying all the people who had worked so hard to build that life for themselves and for me. From absolutely nothing. That was sobering on that day. And that is where I felt my new life strangling me. Then the changes -- the leaving Nashville and the music business behind, the ending of the relationship, the leaving the country, the return to Texas. I am sitting on a screen porch, on a swing, drinking coffee. Just like in my dream life. Which dream? Which life? The dream of just being simple. Knowing the complexities and assimilating them when useful and necessary. But leaving them when all they do is complicate. That is the quest. I mastered it for a long while, and I was just about to let it all overtake me again, but I will not. I have been praying a lot this year (2007) for words, wisdom and courage. In all things. I think they are a masterful, powerful combination. I have been granted them on a few very pivotal occasions, and they have saved me. I remember, years ago, these journals would be filled one question mark after another. No more. I find that a very interesting characteristic. Is it because I do not have as many questions? Or is it because I finally realized I do not have all the answers? Look! Two questions! I think, to answer them, it is due to a little of both. I think I am glad, too. All those question marks really began to drain the life out of me. I never took time to reflect on an answer, even if I thought I had found it. I would just come up with ten more questions to take its place. That, thankfully, is no longer my present, and definitely my past. I thank God, literally, for that miracle. An absolute freedom from bondage that had ruled my life for way too many years. And isn't it funny how someone like the person that I used to be can be considered as "having all the answers" by so many other people? Unbelievable. I have not written this many words free-hand (I am transcribing this from my paper journal, by the way, in the interest of full disclosure) in I do not recall how many years. The last times were decidedly much more sad or angry. I am sure. Maybe that is why I stopped writing in books and started on the blog (http://rossovivogirl.blogspot.com). On the blog were generally positive and funny stories. And things I would not mind sharing -- at least eventually -- with others. And in the books were things that did not necessarily end up fitting into that category. Hmmmm. Another theory. Have I always been so "theoretical"?

are and aaaarggghh!

A year ago, I was in China. The country. Amazing. Today, I am eating homemade whole wheat pancakes. A year ago I was looking ahead to a few weeks of discovery, family and unfamiliar. Today, I am looking ahead to a week of discovery, family and unfamiliar. This year, it is all about quality time and relaxation. Both of which sound outstanding and rejuvenating for me. Tonight, I am going with Chris to dinner at my Peruvian friends' Kay and Javier's home, along with other bilingual teachers from my school. Tomorrow, I am preparing my house for a week away at a cabin in the Oauchita mountains. I love the sound of it. Week. Away. Cabin. Mountains. So excited. I will have a few items of "business" to take care of for my university program, but I will also take with me a new novel, my journal, my camera and my boyfriend. And I will spend much-needed time with all of them. I will take my mp3 player, and I will put on my headphones from time to time for a half hour, and I will sing as if no one can hear me. Because I love it. It inspires me. We were talking recently about silence and how most of us avoid having to endure much of it in our daily lives, and Chris wondered out loud why that is. And I responded, saying, "Most of us don't want to be left alone with our thoughts."

You Move Me

Yesterday, I was reminded of this beautiful song that I first loved a long time ago. It has been recorded by several artists, but my favorite (that I know of) to date is Susan Ashton's version. Here are the lyrics (written by Pierce Pettis): This is how it seems to me Life is only therapy Real expensive And no guarantee So I lie here on the couch With my heart hanging out Frozen solid with fear Like a rock in the ground But you move me You give me courage I didn't know I had You move me on I can't go with you And stay where I am So you move me on This is how love was to me I could look and not see Going through the emotions Not knowin' what they mean And it scared me so much That I just wouldn't budge I might have stayed there forever If not for your touch Oh but you move me Out of myself and into the fire You move me Now I'm burning with love And with hope and desire How you move me You go whistling in the dark Making light of it Making light of it And I follow with my heart Laughing all the way Oh 'cause you move me You get me dancing and you make me sing You move me Now I'm taking delight In every little thing How you move me The audio is on my page here, if you would like to hear it for yourself! Today, I am staring down an awesome task. I have to stand guard over a 3rd grade girl named Heaven and a 5th grade girl named Carrie who are taking the TAKS exam. It just occurred to me that it is no accident that "TAKS" has earned just as unsavory a reputation as its diabolical homonym "TAX" here in the great state of Texas. If you do not know, or are lucky, like me, to have not been subjected to life-sucking state-mandated minimum skills exams as an elementary, middle and high school student, "TAKS" stands for "Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills." It also stands for jamming kids' heads full of test-taking skills. Maybe it should stand for "Texas Assassination of Knowledge and Skills" or "The Antichrist of Knowledge and Skills." Well, Christi, how do you really feel? Anyway, I get to sit in the doorway between these two girls who have to be separated from their classmates because they cannot comprehend anything unless they are reading it aloud. So, I will be hearing two students read out loud from two different tests all day long, for as long as they want to take to finish. Yum. The principal says I can bring a book. I wonder if I can read aloud, too? I'm reading a book called "Unhooked: How Young Women Pursue Sex, Delay Love and Lose at Both." I bet they would stop reading and listen to me, huh? Better choose the silent route. I think it's some security violation for me to have a computer there that is connected to the internet, so I suppose that option is out. We are not even allowing parents or other visitors on our campus today. Crazy huh? Due to testing day security restrictions. I bet the CIA couldn't even worm their way in today. Anyhoo, there is no quiz in my Counseling Theories class this week, so I am feeling like I actually have the right to read a little for pleasure. I have tried to continue that favorite thing whilst committing myself to my studies so that I don't reel out of balance completely, but it's been difficult. I am going to read a novel over spring break. Last night, I negotiated (on behalf of half of my Basic Counseling Skills class) a change in our syllabus. The change resulted in our not having class the week of March 12th (when our spring breaks were for our teaching jobs) OR the week of March 19th (the UNT spring break) and now we get three weeks to do our take-home mid-term exam instead of just one week. Don't know how that happened. That was not one of my requests. The good news is that I will actually feel like I have a spring break now, instead of a few days off during which I had to do a lot of homework. Chris said, "You're such a powerhouse." I laughed. A powerhouse I do not want to be. I just wanted to see if there was a slight possibility of not having to muck up the whole spring break. I kind of want to go somewhere, even if just for a few days. Maybe Nashville, maybe Los Angeles. Was trying to think of places I could go where I would not have to pay a bunch of money for a hotel. Somewhere I could crash in a friend's guest room or even on their floor or sofa bed. I don't want to be out of town the entire time, just a few days of "away-"ness. That's all!

Mental Intercourse

I am supposed to start journaling this week, as a part of my Spiritual Life class. I should have started before now, but I was lazy. My brain has been really muddled this week. I was reading yesterday, and I came across these words in PURSUIT OF GOD by A. W. Tozer: --It is inherent in personality to be able to know other personalities, but full knowledge of one personality by another cannot be achieved in one encounter. It is only after long and loving mental intercourse that the full possibilities of both can be explored. "Mental intercourse" -- I love that. I mean, really LOVE that. It is what I am all about, whatever the topic. Not some arrogant, life-sucking discourse where one person talks for twenty minutes and says nothing. But REAL discussion, dialogue, about something. In person. Not chatting on the internet. Or talking on the phone. Eye to eye. Knee to knee. Expression to expression. Visible and comprehended. It has taken me my entire life to learn that a healthy confrontation is not negative or too scary. It is essential. It is required in order to have movement in a relationship. It is not always fun. And not always efficient. But I know that there are things people must discuss, sometimes, whether they want to at the the moment, or not. Maybe that is why my brain has been muddled. I have a couple of those impending conversations looming on the horizon. I'm nervous, but I have been praying to God for wisdom, words and courage. I believe they are coming. The right time has to be.

Counseling

So, most of you probably know that I have started work on a Masters Degree in Counseling at the University of North Texas. I had my Theories class tonight, which, by the way, is taught by the Chairperson of the Department AND the co-author of the textbook. Intimidating, perhaps? But, I persevere. We had this ridiculously difficult quiz tonight that was so difficult that I only got 4 of 11 questions correct, and half the class did far worse than I did. Thank goodness for the Bell curve. With that, at least I passed. Terribly discouraging. And as I was lamenting that fact, the doctoral student sitting in front of me reassured me, saying that I would have a greater knowledge of Theories than anyone else in any other professor's class and that I should not get discouraged. He said that my professor was without a doubt the most difficult in the department. Fab. So, I tried to feel better. What really bummed me out was that I really enjoyed all the basic tenets of the theory we were being quizzed about -- Adlerian counseling. It's very much about the individual and personal responsibility and having a vested community interest. Tricky questions. Anyhoo, at the end of class, we had to do this experiential activity where we paired up, and one person was the counselor and the other the client. And as the client, I had to come up with six to ten very specific early recollections, as in before the age of six years old. And I had to talk about how I felt in those situations. And then this fellow, my "counselor," who, incidentally, is the doctoral student, sums it up by saying, "So, I'm seeing here that the common thread is that you often felt like you were all alone, that your parents placed you in the care of someone else. And sometimes, bad things happened. I wonder, if based on that information, it would be safe to say that you are hardly ever taken by surprise, and you are a guarded person.?" Um, yeah. Of course, he also wondered if I planned everything out, but I really don't. I explained that I might read ahead about something I am going to do -- I might not be taken by surprise, but I am not a big planner. Just a preparer. There is a difference. I can count on my left hand the number of times someone has actually, truly surprised me, and I will have fingers left over. For my 30th birthday, my friend Cyndi, along with some other family and friends, delivered to my home this precious little antique pink dressing table that I had admired in her presence weeks before, very casually. And she made a mental note and rallied the troops to go in together to buy it and give it to me for my big 3-0. That was great. A boyfriend once surprised me with a gift of a mirror that I had admired on an afternoon walk. Of course, he did that sort of thing several times, and it made me feel very strange, so I stopped openly admiring things. My friend Karen surprised me with a cute little James Avery charm, a motorcycle, and a lovely note about how our friendship was very much like that of Che Guevara and his pal in the film The Motorcycle Diaries. My new boyfriend, Chris, surprised me with a lovely little gift the first time we met -- dark chocolate, a little duck for my keyring and a Borders gift card. He had surreptitiously read my blog and learned that those things were of special interest to me. So kind. Those are great surprises. The kind that let you know people are paying attention. And they are honoring your spirit. Oh, and my Dad surprised me with tickets to see Shaun Cassidy in concert back in the 70's. Do I have to count that? Now, it's on my permanent record. Okay, maybe they number on my left and right hand. But surprising me is difficult to do. I think too much. I have too active an imagination. I truly believe there are more surprises out there for me, though. And I am excited about them.

My Wish(es)

Dear Santa, I am writing for the second time in thirty years to just say, 'hey'. Well, not exactly. People keep bugging me, asking me what I want for Christmas. Other than the standard Miss American contestant rap, "world peace", I have had a difficult time articulating for them. So, I decided to go the old-fashioned route. A Christmas list. So, with a little thought and hopes that you are still checking your mailbox up there, here is what I came up with: 1. World Market Gift Card 2. Borders Bookstore Gift Card 3. iTunes Gift Certificate 4. An Easel and some acrylics 5. A great boyfriend (please do NOT purchase this one!) 6. TJ Maxx Gift Certificate 7. A meaningful James Avery Charm - Silver 8. Guitar lessons. It's just silly that I'm not an expert at this skill as much as i Love it. 9. An external hard drive for my computer(s). I got a cool new MacBook that has fun movie/photo/music programs on it, and I have a feeling I am going to need extra storage! 10. A renewal for my mac.com membership so I can keep that cool web site up and running! 11. Gloria's Restaurants Gift Card Well, Santa, how does that sound? Really, most of all, I would like to just have a great time with family and friends, throw a little cocktail party and catch up with everyone. Without life getting in the way. I'd take that in place of all of the above! The above photo is there to represent all of the belly laughs I get when I read David Sedaris' short story account of the Christmas that he spent working as an elf (at age 33) at Macy's SantaLand in New York City. It's called "The Santaland Diaries", and you can read it in his collection of holiday short stories HOLIDAYS ON ICE. It's not for the overly-sentimental. Love, Me

Attempting

I am officially attempting to get back in touch with The Muse. It has been tucked away for almost a year, and it needs to show its face. Or at least, it needs to show me the words to write. There is a new entry just before this one. It will be baby steps. I don't know where my words went for so long. But getting them out might make life a little easier for me right now.

100 Things That Nourish Me

1. writing 2. reading 3. great conversation 4. learning about God 5. grapes 6. exercise 7. my friendship with my sister 8. human contact 9. relationships 10. teaching 11. seeing 12. touching 13. smelling 14. hearing 15. tasting 16. truth 17. fiction 18. holding hands 19. singing 20. playing with children 21. a great film 22. creating 23. cooking 24. tearing up something 25. painting 26. bathing 27. sharing 28. coffee 29. hot tea 30. traveling 31. journaling 32. studying 33. research 34. success 35. red meat 36. entertaining 37. laughing 38. making someone else laugh 39. honesty 40. healthy skepticism 41. relationship 42. kindness 43. being random 44. contact 45. listening to someone 46. being taught 47. progress 48. praying 49. questioning 50. answering 51. inquiring 52. seeking 53. leading 54. being properly managed 55. my history 56. my future 57. consideration 58. thoughtfulness 59. service to others 60. playing a game with family 61. interviewing 62. photography 63. chronicling 64. observing 65. live music 66. songs 67. songwriters 68. puzzles 69. words and where they came from 70. art 71. lions 72. understanding death 73. trust 74. loyalty 75. honesty 76. insight 77. curiousity 78. grace 79. beauty 80. memoirs 81. conciseness 82. detail 83. attention 84. watching 85. smiles 86. affection 87. emptiness 88. invitations 89. good health 90. comfort 91. giving aid 92. knowing 93. empathy 94. compassion 95. willingness 96. preparedness 97. happiness 98. connection 99. ability 100. finishing

belief

i lost touch with my muse. i don't regret it, really. i think my muse had taken flight long before i became one for someone else. now, however, almost two months later, i am wondering if perhaps the whole experience might not have come my way to show me that what i have to say will always be here. it will just be my responsibility to say it. in writing or otherwise.

Vacation Is Over

Well, to say the least, the European vacation is drawing to an end. Actually, it was scheduled to end about a week ago, but it has been impossible to get on a flight out of Spain to the United States. I tried three days in a row in Madrid (going to and from the airport each day), and then I took a train to Barcelona, where, conveniently, there was a strike starting the same day, and only 228 of of 942 flights went out that day. Fab-u-lo-so. Anyway, I went to the Barcelona for the 2nd day in a row today, and I will try again tomorrow. Tomorrow looks slightly more hopeful as Delta has added a flight from here to London that goes on to Atlanta, and hopefully, there will be enough seats on that one to accommodate all of us displaced and stand-by passengers all the way home. I swear, if I can just get to Atlanta, I might just rent a car and drive all the way to Dallas from Georgia! The photo is what the airport looked like yesterday when I got there. Read the article about the chaos, too! If you have never been in an airport in the thick of the busiest weekend of travel in Europe AND an employee strike, I am not sure you have lived!

Various Madrid pics

Mi nuevo amigo mexicano

A funny guy who was taking a law course in the same university as us. He sang us songs in the cafeteria from time to time.

Me and my Professor Dr. Antonio Fabregat

Más de Madrid

Having been in Spain for a month now, I have had to learn a new vocabulary word: agotada. It means exhausted. And I do not foresee it getting all that much better all that much faster. Here are a few pics to enjoy until I see you again.

Madrid, oh Madrid

I am in my friendly neighborhood internet café, and I thought I would write an update since it has been since last month since I delivered anything. What have I been doing? Attending classes. Often. The Children's Literature course I am taking is really quite good, a little difficult to handle 2.5 hours of lecture at 9am without a good egg for breakfast, but I am surviving. One of the most outstanding aspects of the course is the series of conferences and colloquia that are a part of our afternoons. We are having up close and personal visits with Prize winning authors and children's book illustrators who give us their phone numbers and email addresses or go out to eat with us. It is a really cool deal to be able to talk with them and ask questions. I have made friends with an illustrator/artist (http://www.teopuebla.com) here in Madrid who is working on an amazing mural project called GRACIAS, which consists of giant (about 6X8 foot) portraits of various historical figures who have made a grand contribution to humanity and, as a result, have died violently. Some of the portraits that are finished to date are Jesus Christ, Che Guevara, Spartacus, Martin Luther King. There are others, but I cannot remember them all right now. I was able to go to the studio this weekend to see them, up close and personal. Really quite moving. I will hopefully have some pictures of the promotional folio to share with you when I get home. A very cool experience. The artist gave me some original watercolors of illustrations that he had done for a couple of children's books -- really kind and generous. I am still sweating like crazy over here -- it has not let up. Most of my group went south to Andalucia this weekend, but I passed on that since I used to live there several years ago. I stayed here to sweat for free! Even all my Mexican pals went on a field trip for the weekend. The past two days, I ate breakfast in the dining hall completely alone! Saturday, I went to the Museo de Reina Sofia which is co-hosting a huge Picasso exhibition with the Museo del Prado -- and this time, I bought the exhibition poster so I will always have the recuerdo. I also went to a FREE exhibition called MUJERES of Gustav Klimt's work, all studies and portraits of women that he did over the course of a few decades at the turn of the century. Very nice. Bought the poster there, too! Only one more week of class, then we are free! I am here in Spain until the 27th, but I might take a trip this weekend to Vigo, a beach town in Galicia up North. Everyone says it is amazing and is worth the time and money. And I think I have a place to stay there, which is always a motivator! I will go now, for I feel like I am rambling. Again. More later.

Le Gondole di Venezia, Giugno 2006

  

      

Viva Italia

I am two days in Italy now, my inner clock is almost completely Euro-calibrated, and I have already eaten more amazing food than any one white girl deserves! I am staying with friends in northern Italy, in a small city called Reggio Emilia, the early childhood education capital of the world (www.reggiochildren.it). Yesterday, my friend Heather escorted me and her son to his school here, and I spent about an hour taking photos and gathering information. Afterward, we returned to the apartment, and her friend Fabio loaned me his rickety bicycle so that we could bike over the administrative offices of Reggio Children across town. Yes, I rode a bike. I told Heather, begged her, actually, that she was welcome to leave me far behind if I embarrassed her or toppled over. Neither happened. We zipped and zoomed down streets, through underground tunnels (with sharp turns might I add) and made it to and fro with no incidents. The visit to the admin offices was fruitful -- I talked with their staff, browsed their library/bookstore and bought a few books to take home and share with my friends and coworkers. (Right now, I am trying to concentrate while a 5-year-old zurbits my neck from behind, so pardon any lapses in grammar or good sense!) Last night, we jumped into the rental car and drove up into the mountains nearby. We saw a ginormous castle (we tried to arrive there, but we could not find the correct road). We visited the winery from which my friend has recently purchased a container of wine to import into the United States, and we accidentally found a roadside restaurant at which I consumed some of the most delectable food of my young life. In the car on the way over, the little boy was explaining to me that he did NOT enjoy eating at the roadside Auto Grills that you encounter on road trips here in Italy simply because they use hydrogenated oils, and food cooked with those is not healthy for his body. Yes, he said "hydrogenated oils". I think about students that I have who come to kindergarten having no idea that they even have something called a "nose" on their face, and I see that proper, interactive and high-expectation parenting makes not just a world, but a galaxy/universe of difference in the intellect and oral language ability of a child. I want to record him speaking (which he now does in both English and Italian) and share it with my students' parents. Sometimes, I think we have a preconceived notion of a ceiling of intelligence for children, and we, not they, limit them. When we are able to look at them as infants or toddlers and see the person we hope for them to become, then we can be of some service to them. Use the better word, the more academic word. Not to create an elitist, but to set a standard. To encourage curiousity, to inspire them to inspire someone else. In doing that for them, we serve them well. We parent them. We tutor them. We mentor them. We cultivate them. We hope. It is SO hot here that we have only left the house for a few hours today to go get lunch, a gelato and then my friend Heather coerced me into going to the neighborhood cafe to meet an Italian man she thought might interest me. He did not. I, as is common with me, did not give him much of a chance, but he also did not offer to engage in conversation with me, even though he had seen that I can understand at least 85% of the Italian that is spoken to me. Oh well. Then Heather and I spent a fabulous time chatting in Italian, English and Spanish with her friends Fabio and Daniele, the sons of the people who own the little Cafe Borsa. It was fun. We explained some nuances and vulgarities within the English language and warded off some great faux pas. We learned of some pre-wedding practical joke traditions that they carry out (should we call them practical jokes instead?) with their friends. They are going to a wedding tomorrow, and one of the tricks that they are going to do is that they have changed 170 Euro into only coinage, and they will tape the coins all in a row between two layers of Scotch tape, and then they will wind it around a tube and give to the couple. Then the couple must spend who knows how long un-fixing the coins in order to get the money to spend. I said that that sounded like a marvelous way to start a savings account for the first child. And when the child reaches preschool age, he/she can set about unsticking the money as an ongoing project. What do you think? I must go now -- to sweat in peace. And to listen to the odd assemblage of people who are setting up microphones and a PA to sing to pre-recorded music on the town square just over our balcony. Ahhhh. Viva Italia.

100 adjectives that describe me

This list was conjured on December 31, 2004. 1. fun 2. clever 3. wise 4. knowledgeable 5. judgmental 6. peaceful 7. Christian 8. nurturing 9. sensitive 10. empathetic 11. sympathetic 12. clingy 13. curious 14. capricious 15. spontaneous 16. wild 17. sexy 18. beautiful 19. caring 20. attentive 21. passionate 22. musical 23. interesting 24. worldly 25. adventuresome 26. plump 27. bright 28. gregarious 29. supportive 30. irresponsible 31. impetuous 32. daring 33. spiteful 34. passive 35. apathetic 36. oblivious 37. reckless 38. deceptive 39. worrisome 40. anxious 41. preoccupied 42. lacking 43. mindful 44. nervous 45. distractible 46. ambiguous 47. talented 48. gifted 49. instinctive 50. hungry 51. thirsting 52. tempting 53. decent 54. respectful 55. intuitive 56. fragmented 57. damaged 58. compassionate 59. simple 60. complex 61. dramatic 62. intimidating 63. feral 64. bilingual 65. heartless 66. limber 67. pale 68. green-eyed 69. red-haired 70. freckled 71. distinctive 72. inspired 73. welcoming 74. useful 75. service-oriented 76. calming 77. influential 78. persuasive 79. thought-provoking 80. complicated 81. dedicated 82. clean 83. rested 84. pretty 85. bright-eyed 86. responsible 87. neurotic 88. people-minded 89. helpful 90. willing 91. weak 92. strong 93. emotional 94. sensible 95. studious 96. soft-hearted 97. reticent 98. cool 99. aloof 100.reflective

On Arrival In Hong Kong

  

quarantine

truly, i have never been this inactive or unproductive in my entire life. i began feeling a big under the weather last weekend, and i called in sick to work on monday (which i very close to never do). i returned to work on tuesday to a roomful of smiling faces. then, after feeling progressively worse over the course of the day, decided to pop by the clinic on my way home. if for no other reason than for confirmation that "it was nothing" and because i was less than three weeks away from an arduous trip halfway 'round the world to China. i sat through the H&P with the physician, who, based on a few of my responses to her questions, decided to do a flu test. she swabbed the inside of my left nostril and left the room. she returned three minutes later, saying "um, yeah, it usually takes ten minutes minimum to get a result. you have the flu. you are on bedrest and quarantined for at least the next five days. i'll prescribe you Tamiflu in case it's not too late for it to be effective in staving off some of the symptoms. have some cough syrup too. whatever that is that is beginning to rumble in your chest will become a problem". great. so, i dropped off the prescriptions, drove next door to Kroger to pick up some groceries and went to rent some movies. five movies. i have not rented five movies total in the past year. i watched four of them the next day. while lying on the mattress that i mustered the strength to drag from my guest room onto the floor of the only room in my house with a television set. i wanted to preserve the sanctity of my actual bedroom. i did not want to be sick in there. and i certainly did not want to invade it with the media. so far, this week, i have watched: HITCH LACKAWANNA BLUES ABOUT A BOY (for the 2nd time) WEDDING CRASHERS ROOTS (the original miniseries from 1977, in its entirety) ALFIE (the not-so-original from 2004, although with all the changes, i guess it is original in its own way) BRIAN WILSON ON TOUR TO HAVE AND TO BE (a French documentary about a one-room schoolhouse) I also bought HUSTLE & FLOW, which is amazing. watch CRASH first, though. so that you will TRULY appreciate Terence Howard's H&F performance. i am building a new web site this week (once I get my new software) so that i can properly chronicle and share the China experience. date of departure is March 6. am very excited and a little nervous -- mainly about the part where i am in charge of my two nieces (ages 13 and almost-13), neither of whom have ever left the continent or flown since they were infants. wow. okay, well i should be sleeping. the lights are out. they told me so. have had many fabulous words and thoughts drift through my mind this week but was too exhausted to write them down. holding out hope that they will find their way to my fingers before too long again.

clowns are people, too!

  what is there to say about this bus ride? we had enjoyed our few hours of escape in san miguel de allende, and we needed a little rest on the 2 hour bus ride back to san felipe. send in the clowns. and our brief peace was shattered. 

yo y clarinete el payaso

   

encouragement

isn't it amazing that one of the kindest, most appreciated gifts that you can give someone is completely free? i have received more than my share of encouragement in the past few months, from people very close to me as well as from people who are close to people who are close to me. and most recently, from a group of esteemed complete strangers. last week, i was told that i have been chosen, one of five, to participate in a very cool Masters' Level Creative Writing program created by The Dallas Writers' Garret (www.writersgarret.org) called Writers' CAMP (Community Authors Mentorship Program. From their brochure, I copy: Writers' CAMP is a non-credit creative writing program developed by The Writers' Garret for writers who want intensive study in poetry, fiction, creative nonfiction or playwriting. CAMP offers a unique combination of structure and flexibility that encourages students to develop the independent work-habits of professional writers. CAMP was developed for people with busy lives, children or full-time work who want to pursue their love of writing but otherwise could not. The two aspects of CAMP, community and mentorships, are key to the program. Because writing can be such an isolated activity, CAMP consciously cultivates a community of writers who balance activity with solitude. At advanced levels, CAMP students are eligible to receive one-on-one mentorships with qualified and professional writers. CAMP differs from traditional university/college creative writing programs by offering a non-credit, mostly self-directed course of study that permits writers to learn at their own pace, while still offering structure and guidance as they grow. CAMP also allows those on fixed incomes to trade community service in exchange for study. CAMP students teach in our Dallas Writers In The Schools (WITS) program, provide office and programming assistance and contribute to The Writers' Garret outreach in a myriad of ways. The mission of The Writers' Garret is to foster the development of writers and audiences by putting them in touch with quality literature, each other and the communities in which they live and write. Cool, huh? The Dallas Writers' Garret also presents a very cool literary series called "The Writers Studio" with local NPR station KERA. Check out the authors who will be interviewed this season here: http://www.writersgarret.org/thews.htm. So, to all of you who have been an amazing encouragement to me in the writing department -- Karyn, Diana, Helena, Jenny, Jenny's Dad Bernie, John, Alicen, Sally, Jessica, The Jeffs, The Scotts, Dad, Mom, Karen, Karyn, Aunt Tom, Connie, Becky, The Lauras, Deborah, Cyndi, Cindy, Leslie, Russ, Rachel, Brownlee, Heather, Luellyn, Dana, Dianna, Ms. Z., Donna, Tasha, Sarah, Mary Kathryn, Dotti, Jackson, Lori (I'm watching the Golden Globe Awards and have clearly been whisked away into some sort of acceptance speech moment...) -- I say 'thank you'. I love your feedback and I am constantly changed by you.

authentic community

as fate would have it, the teaching topic at church this morning was "community". but not just any kind of "community". "authentic community". the best kind. the kind that, like the best kind of love, is filled with people with whom we belong. who genuinely care for us. who hold us accountable. it is the kind of relationship that i long for. long. be-long. i believe that it is that kind of longing that lies within each of us that compels us. to do what, you ask? to seek. to satisfy. the longing. when we do not have that longing fulfilled, we start to disintegrate. dis-integrate. to intentionally not belong. or worse, to belong to the wrong. when all parts of us are not working together, integrated, we fall apart. maybe we do not notice it. or we have trained ourselves to believe that the disintegrated "us" is the normal, the default. but i don't think so. i believe that this crazy world we inhabit works constantly and strategically to convince us that we are alone, that we are an island. so that it, with all of its trappings, all of its services and products and programming, can swoop in and be our salvation. when, ironically, what we need to be saved from is that very same world and all that comes with it. take a week off from television. if you really pay attention and give yourself a true visual media sabbatical, when you turn it back on, you will be offended. not necessarily just morally, but at the very core of your being. it might occur to you to question the box, "you think you know me? who do you think i am?". when at precisely the same time of night, it shows you advertisements for an anti-depressant. or a pill to keep your herpes in check. or plays on your emotions to summon up memories of the music of your youth. it does know you. because you turn it on at the same bat-time and same bat-channel each day. or week. and it has someone on its payroll whose only purpose in life is to figure out who you are. what you use. where you go. what you eat. how you feel. when you were born. it's a sobering thought. identity theft does not just occur on paper. it occurs every time we turn on the television. it takes away our ability to relate to others. pay attention. when you are in a room full of people, how much authentic community is taking place if the television is on. there does not even have to be any volume. it still becomes the focus. it takes away all our sense of true human relationship. it works to make us believe we are alone by making itself the only thing we believe we have in common with others. it boasts that it is reality. while depriving us of our own. of this is not to say that there is not worthwhile programming in television. or that sometimes, it's okay to just sit down and vegetate. but maybe we should keep track of how often we do that. and maybe is there not something else we could do that would improve our quality of life for the long term? taking a walk. listening to a song. reading a great book. calling an old friend. baking something. meandering through the new grocery store down the street. i am writing this piece as much to myself as to anyone else i know. i am in the process of forcing myself out of the house. i no longer give myself the right to whine about my lack of relationship(s) when my own reclusivity is the culprit. last night, i went out with a friend -- our first stop was the urbanmarket in downtown dallas -- a lovely little grocery, florist and cafe. then we went to a great little salvadoran/mexican restaurant called Gloria's on greenville avenue. i forgot how much i loved exploring unfamiliar places like that. and i questioned myself about why i was completely comfortable flying to another country and spending months traveling around alone, yet going out in america alone gave me tiny little heart palpitations. and then i heard a quote from George Gallup, "americans are the loneliest people in the world". oh.

what if no one comes?

my brother and i are giving a little cocktail party tonight. last night, i went to purchase the little finger foods that will be placed strategically throughout my house, and the night before that, i picked up the wine -- some red, some white. my brother is bringing the beer. the playlists are set up on the computer to pipe the music that i love so much throughout the house. but what if no one comes? i have found that in today's world, people are fairly unpredictable. some people have let me know that they are certain they cannot stop by due to prior obligations. but there are several from whom i have not heard. what does that mean? are people afraid of being social? i am, at times, but i have learned to encourage myself to get out of the house. i have been fairly un-social (not anti-social) for the past few years, due simply to not having lived in a target-rich environment. i am enjoying my second cup of espresso roast right now. the 2nd cup with sugar, not the pink stuff. i try to be calorie conscious in ever-so-little ways, but i cannot bring myself to deprive myself of the perfect cup of coffee on a regular basis. i should be making sense of this disorganized house right now, because i think my mom will be arriving shortly, and if i do not have it all together by then, she might feel compelled to help, and i don't want her to feel like she has to work on something every time she comes to see me! although i always appreciate it. so. music. food. beverages. all i need now are the people. more on that aspect of the cocktails and conversation tomorrow!

happy birthday to me!

it's pre-6:00 a.m. on december 14th, and that means that all those years ago, i had just come into the world. 5:33 a.m., to be exact, i believe. wow. and i'm still here. last night, on birthday eve, i was writing the first draft of some goals for the next full year of my little life, and i found that they came with much greater ease than in years past. i was fairly diligent for several years about actually writing down goals at the end of the year, but for the past few years, since i returned to texas, i have not really paid attention to that practice. it just occurred to me last night, and i decided to begin it again. i recently applied to a three-year-long program called Community Authors Mentorship Program (CAMP), which is a boot-camp for writers which involves graduate level writing instruction and workshops. just getting the application done was a feat for me. i almost missed the deadline (Nov 15), and on that day, they posted an extended deadline to Dec 12. i almost missed that one too (do i have a fear of rejection?), and then i was told that if my application package was postmarked by Dec 12, it would still be valid. then, i had no excuse. so i went to the post office -- one of my least favorite things in the world to do, besides putting gas in my car and making cold calls. so, it's out there, along with 12 pages of writing samples and my heart. we shall see. anyway, sharing my writing more is one of my goals for 2006, to try and publish something, however simple or small-time. and i want to take guitar lessons again. and sing in public for someone's enjoyment. i have decided to place a lot of pressure on my right brain. can you tell? today is also the birthday of one of my students -- the most hard-headed and rebellious one. coincidence? i think not. anyway, his mom had asked permission to cook up tons of Mexican food and bring us all lunch today, but she told me on Monday that she could not do that because he had been punished for throwing away a gold necklace and medallion that his uncle had sent him from California. great. he's costing me a fabulous lunch! he's cost me more than that so far this semester, let me tell you. well, i will go now -- i hope you have a fabulous day. i plan to. however humble and low-key it may be. as Frosty the Snowman would say, "Happy Birthday!". i mean "Merry Christmas!".

it's about time for generosity

(each of the "it's about time" installments are the result of my mostly attentive note-taking during recent messages delivered by jeff kinkade at my church). the secret to real joy in life is generosity. not just talking about financial generosity but rather all year-round generosity. not talking about human generosity which is often motivated by a desire for recognition or for a tax break. but rather self-sacrificing, soul-energizing, God-glorifying generosity. "The generous sould will be made rich and he who waters will be watered himself" (Proverbs 11:25). the word used for "generous" in the original translation actually means "to bless". you can bless people in a variety of ways, with your tongue (kind, helpful words), your time, your talents and your treasure. who are you blessing in each of these ways? what happens to people who are genuinely generous? they... prosper -- do not perpetrate the notion of prosperity theology - that you will be wealthy if you give money. you can prosper by being a very joyful person. we live in a selfish, sinful and fallen world. generosity is something that has a boomerang effect. it brings joy to your life that is not characteristic of a fallen world. the measure of a life is not its duration but its donation. -- (peter marshall, former U.S. Senate Chaplain) generous people are... people of vision -- they are sure that God wants to use them for some purpose. take time soon to write a vision statement for your life, in part answering the questions, "what do i want to be remembered for?" intentional -- they are sensitive to the Spirit of God and who He is leading across their paths. most of us are so focused on the tiny tasks of our lives that we miss the bigger and more obvious opportunities that present themselves to us on a daily basis. we should be asking ourselves, "what can i do today to make a difference in the world?" thankful -- they cultivate a habit of thankfulness, the genuine kind. selfless -- they are not the kind of people looking for recognition or a pat on the back. they know that God knows what they have done. generous people don't give looking for something in return. they give without expectations. soon, do these things: *write a vision statement for your life * look for opportunities to be generous *cultivate the habit of thankfulness *give your life away without expectations

it's about time for forgiveness

for the past few weeks, the pastor at my church has been teaching in a series called "it's about time...". each week, he adds, "for..." and whatever the topic is for the week. there have been some really powerful thoughts and ideas in the teachings, so i thought i would make them more widely known. "it's about time for...forgiveness" "if you could lick my heart, it would poison you." (holocaust survivor) we can find release in the freedom that only forgiveness can provide us. forgiveness is not: 1) forgetting 2) excusing 3) smoothing things over 4) instantaneous the only one who can forgive in a single breath is God. 4 stages of forgiveness * suffering -- stop running from what was done to you, acknowledge what was done, experience the pain and suffer. if you have done that, then consider the suffering as a gift. Paul wrote in Philippians 3:10, "I want to know Christ and the power of His resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings". the larger the hurt, the larger the gift. * surrendering your desire to get even with the person who has wronged or offended you. unforgiveness is a self-imposed torture that comes from the desire for control. revenge will not remove the poison that is in your heart due to hatred and bitterness. * remembering the humanity of your offender. when we do not forgive, we begin to think of the person only in the context of what they have done to offend us. we forget that they are human. we need to rediscover that they are complex, weak, hurt and fragile people just like we are. *reconciling with your offender, which is a process for some which is not possible. if you can, turn back the hands of time, heal wounds and move into the future.

it's about time

for the past few weeks, the pastor at my church has been teaching in a series called "it's about time...". each week, he adds, "for..." and whatever the topic is for the week. there have been some really powerful thoughts and ideas in the teachings, so i thought i would make them more widely known. it's about time for thankfulness... Principles of Thanks-giving 1) believe -- that God exists and the He revealed himself in Jesus Christ. it is terrible to be grateful and to have no one to thanks, to be awed and to have no one to worship (philip yancey). who are you thankful to? in general, to no one in particular? does that feel meaningless? even though we are separated from God, with belief in Christ for eternal life, we have eternal life. 2) inclusive -- give thanks in all circumstances, not just in the circumstances that you like. when you are around a genuinely Biblically thankful person, it is awe-inspiring. there are a lot of good things we can be thankful for, but there are a lot of other things, as well like obstacles, lessons learned the hard way, illnesses. the deepest desire of every human heart is to know God more intimately. this Earth is not what we were created for. Biblically thankful people can see the sovereign hand of God even in the worst times. 3) obedience -- if thankfulness came naturally to any of us, Paul would not have seen it fit to command us to be thankful. we have to overcome the part of us that is normally, instinctively not thankful to God. barriers to thankfulness 1) comparison -- to others who have more than we do 2) busy-ness -- we do not take time to notice what there is to be thankful for. 3) focus -- some of us are constantly focused on our troubles, our struggles, not our blessings. 4) undervaluing -- certain things we should value higher friendships are one of the main things we under-value! 5) ego -- thankfulness requires humility 6) expectations -- we have so much, and we expect that that is what we are entitled to have. don't waste another day in an ungrateful spirit. give thanks for 1) spiritual blessings; 2) physical blessings like your car, your food, your health; 3) lessons learned the hard way; and 4) relational blessings like friends, family and new friends.

"to see what i have lost makes me able to see what i have gained." (michael j. fox) this week, i was blessed to connect with an intelligent, helpful and service-oriented customer service representative at SBC when i called to question a gigantic bill that i had received. after many many minutes on the phone with her, she with her supervisor, and he with his supervisor, the phone call resulted in a $200 credit and a change in my dish network satellite services. i cancelled a premium channels package, and i upgraded instead to the next level of service with regular satellite service. (that has got to be the longest sentence i've ever forced on you to date!) anyway, i don't watch much television (at all -- "my name is earl", "everybody hates chris" and "e.r.") with any frequency, unless, of course, i am avoiding cleaning house. however, there were a few channels that i knew i would really enjoy, based on my interests and predilections, like BRAVO, BBC America, DIY. and a few others. anyway, they were just out of my reach on the next level of service. so, i decided to pay a few extra dollars and get what i really wanted. a valuable lesson. sort of like choosing organic and hormone-free food and dairy products. it really does taste better, and i believe when it tastes better, we eat less of it. because we are satisfied sooner. anyhoo, tonight, i watched, for the first time in a very long time, one of my all-time favorite programs on BRAVO called "Inside The Actors Studio". so very interesting to me. even if i have no real interest in the interviewee. i always learn something fascinating or something that lends a little more understanding to their body of work. aside -- i just made an amazing gumbo. seriously. CJF's secret recipe. okay, back to it. this past week, i read a million little pieces and my friend leonard by james frey. riveting. obviously. i read the first one in less than three days. and the second one, which i was only going to the bookstore to "look at" sucked me right in. i read 115 pages of leonard at Borders, and that night, i read all the way up to page 253 and finished it the next day. then i was kind of mad that i had spent $18.00 and used it up so quickly. but i rolled with it.

kissing

have i written about this lately? no, probably not. i am watching "something's gotta give", and there was just the scene where jack and diane kiss for the first time. so fun. i want a sandwich. in paris. now. instead, i will get a sandwich. at panera. in a few minutes.

Dear Santa Claus

Dear Santa, I am writing for the first time in thirty years to just say, 'hey'. Well, not exactly. People keep bugging me, asking me what I want for Christmas. Other than the standard Miss American contestant rap, "world peace", I have had a difficult time articulating for them. So, I decided to go the old-fashioned route. A Christmas list. So, with a little thought and hopes that you are still checking your mailbox up there, here is what I came up with: 1. World Market Gift Card 2. Borders Bookstore Gift Card 3. iTunes Gift Certificate 4. An Easel and some acrylics 5. A great boyfriend (please do NOT purchase this one!) 6. TJ Maxx Gift Certificate 7. A meaningful James Avery Charm - Silver 8. Guitar lessons. It's just silly that I'm not an expert at this skill as much as i Love it. Well, Santa, how does that sound? Really, most of all, I would like to just have a great time with family and friends, throw a little cocktail party and catch up with everyone. Without life getting in the way. I'd take that in place of all of the above! Love, Me

Hanging with friends way too late!

missing

at dinnertime, i wish i lived in new york. all those choices. from dirt cheap to excessively expensive. perhaps many of the same choices exist here in the dallas area (i'm certain many of them do), but i cannot, on the spur of the moment, walk outside my door and get to any one of them in a matter of minutes by foot. that's the special part. i have a few regular spots, but they are miles and gallons away. what else do i miss? i miss my friends. i miss talking on the phone with them. i miss laughing over coffee or wine and sitting for hours just hanging out, wondering out loud. i know that we have to grow up, but is it absolutely necessary that we separate ourselves so terribly much? would it be out of the question to just plan a little reunion and take three or four days to just enjoy each other and our history together? some get weary of talking about the past, but without it, we would have no present and certainly no future. and i have had some really beautiful life moments just sitting and talking with long-time friends and finding out that we have some of the same questions, triumphs and struggles. why do we abandon each other? certainly, it's not on purpose. it must be some sort of natural progression. if we dip carefully into our past, it does not mean that we are regressing, taking steps backward. we should view it as a way of seasoning our present lives. one of my good friends always talked about what she perceived as the very real danger of intermingling your "groups". your work group with your going-out group. your church group with your life-long friends group. sometimes, it very much does not work. but i think the older we get, the more discerning we become, and if we are honest, there really is not all that much distinction among the members of each group. now, maybe it just has more to do with scheduling and real interests. i am making some friends here now, and i wonder if i am having to convince myself that i am now capable of intermingling all those groups. now i know myself better, and i know who i want to spend my time with -- and it's all the same kind of person. we should not let the written word take away our voices. we need to talk to each other. i need to call you. you need to call me. there's a truth in the voice that can be masked in writing. let's talk.

write. writer. writing. written. wrote.

I am sitting at panera bread company where I just consumed a nice turkey artichoke panini with a bowl of baked potato soup. I was briefly, very, inspired to cook today, but then I swept the house, drank some coffee and tumbled back into the bed to finish ann patchett’s memoir, truth & beauty. Which, I believe, was both truthful and beautiful, as promised. I just caught a whiff of 2000, manhattan beach, California. Isn’t that strange? I wonder what it was? It’s nice to be able to use your laptop in public places with wi-fi internet access, but until the furniture set-up in these places has as much to do with ergonomically sound desk practices as it does with delightful food, it will not serve me very well for very long. The manager just snatched my empty dishes from my table. I don’t think in a necessarily angry or impatient way. Maybe just in a way that indicates he would rather be typing out his thoughts than be surrounded by lots of other people who are afforded that luxury during his shift. This table height is, however, inspiring me to sit up straighter. Perhaps the ergonomic problem lies in my central nervous system and NOT in the design of the restaurant. I was thinking about going to the movie today, but it would be better if I would skip that, go home, be artful and/or domestic and make something happen in either or both of those realms. I wonder if I really am a writer? I mean, I write, therefore I’m a writer? I don’t know if it works that way. Because a lot of people write, and NO one reads what they write? Do you have to be read in order to really be considered a writer? Sort of like that tree falling in the woods thing? Whoever thought that up? It’s fall today. It’s actually the one month anniversary of fall today, but for the first time in a while, it actually feels like fall. Which I love. We are supposed to be studying about fall right now, but alas! It has continued to be 93 degrees at night, and it seems a little nonsensical, fantastical, even cruel to fill these children’s heads with such tomfoolery as are the lessons about “fall” and leaves changing colors and falling involuntarily down. When it comes time to save and name my writing files, I am always shaken by how difficult it is to actually call it one thing that will remind me exactly, precisely what I was writing about that day. In order to do that, I would have to make up a whole new variety of compound words. There are not a lot of women in here typing. They’re all out shopping or resting or cooking or butt-wiping while their significant others are lounging in Italian bakeries sending instant messages to their secret lovers. Wouldn’t that be tragic if it were true? Un very cute man just walked in with his equally precious son. I am going to try to get the Dallas Morning News to do a feature on Words and Voices, centering around the Jeffrey Steele show. He was just named Songwriter of the Year by NSAI a few weeks ago. I wonder if he is nominated for a CMA Award for producing work on the Montgomery Gentry album, which I believe is nominated for Best Album. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? I am about to go over to Borders. I don’t know why. I should actually go to Half Price Books. More in the budget. Actually, going home is more in the budget. Or to the movies. Why don’t more women write in public? Because they’re not used to having a voice? Or they are used to having interactive voices? Hanging out with a girlfriend, chatting? Which is better? Which is more helpful in the end? To discuss something with yourself or to discuss something with a friend? I guess it depends on the honesty of all involved. It’s interesting to me how simple it is to crank out 679 words without even thinking about it. Could I do a Masters Degree? Where? Studying what? Counseling? Biblical Counseling? SMU? DTS? UT? Why can’t Baylor be closer? 180 mile round trip commute is a little excessive, especially in the age of hideously overprices gasoline with no hope in sight for positive change. Lord E. Mama.

hope v. faith

today, while showering, i had an epiphany. i had never really considered how similar and yet very different these two concepts are. why would they be so carefully and succinctly delineated in the Word if they were as similar as i have thought them to be my entire life? how did i come to this? while shaving my legs, of course. and it occurred to me that shaving your legs is an act of hope, while NOT shaving your legs is an act of complete blind faith. hope is still laced with some indelible human need to doubt. faith is involved in nothing of the sort. faith is so heavily fortified against doubt that it might not even know the word exists, much less care about its true meaning. hope is riddled with unquietness, however brightly displayed for the world to see, and it is often an essential thread in the problems that we weave effortlessly for our lives. faith carries, as part of who it is, an unshakeable stability that repels any self-questioning, self-hatred or even self. when we find something (or someone) in which (or whom) to put our faith, we have achieved. and we know it. one of my favorite things in the world is to read beautiful words that render beautiful thoughts. or at least provocations of them. whether the words are surrounded by music or a bookcover, all of us should spend more time with them. how can we formulate our own thoughts if we rely solely upon ourselves and the few words we already have to inspire them? it seems a little arrogant when you read it, does it not? to consider ourselves so complete and so at the peak that we have nothing more to learn or consider or contribute? i am going to start taking pictures again. i am not sure yet of what, but i have to do it. i am also going to start writing on a regular basis rather than just taking notes about what others are saying. virtually none of what i have been writing down has been garbage, because i have been blessed with a fair share of discernment, but i need to give something back. to whom? also not sure of that. i hope there are people who want to hear it. no, i believe there are.

desmemoriada

i had to learn this word last year because it was becoming a part of who i am. forgetful. i had at least three fabulous ideas for writing these past three days, and i foolishly thought that i was actually going to remember them until i had internet access again. and i had the good, old-fashioned journal in the same room with me at the time. it would have been so easy. alas! i did not write the ideas down, and perhaps they are lost forever. hopefully not, because i DO remember thinking at the time, "this is brilliant and poignant and is bound to be interesting to somebody...". i am awfully curious about what this week is going to be like at school. i am terribly uninterested in what i am supposed to be teaching about, so i hope that i can transmit excitement to the kids -- they are bound to like it all. soon, i will have to write about the bizarre encounter that i had with a stranger standing in line at Chipotle last week. all i wanted to do was order my burrito and eat it in peace while reading my new favorite book, "Boundaries In Dating". whilst all the while wondering why there seems to be a boundary BETWEEN me and dating. actually, i know why i am not dating. i am not prepared. and that is just fine. doing something like that while unprepared is setting oneself up for major disaster. and i have done that. and i do not want to do it again. i must go to bed now. i am clean and tidy and quite sleepy. but i will read first. because i love it.

slap ass crazy

why do i do this to myself? why do i wait until the last minute to do whatever it is that i need to do? and why do i almost never sacrifice what i WANT to do to make time for the things that should have priority? because i'm me. and how do some of the most sought-after people seem to keep ascending higher and higher even though almost every cog in their wheel of a posse is rusty? seriously. i had some semi-brilliant thoughts the other day, wrote them down in some random notebook, and i have no idea where the thoughts or the notebook are. not good. someday, someone will find the vast collection of random notebooks, and perhaps they will appropriate my thoughts for their own and be the millionaire i've yet to become. if you are close to me, you are probably thinking, "my aren't we caustic tonight?". truly, it has more to do with the full moon, menses and having my saturday night schedule interrupted. interrupted by a third party, that is. the 2nd party was on the way over and mistakenly took a call from the third party which threw everything off by over an hour. when the 2nd party's reputation for punctuality is not exactly stellar. but we've talked about it, and we are both supposed to be making attempts at changing our ways. spontaneity and tardiness do not mix very well. i went for drinks and happy hour food yesterday afternoon with some compadres from work. 99 cent margaritas and hot chicken wings. (no i was not at hooters). i made the horrible mistake of not completely unpacking myself when i moved here in july. i got reasonably unpacked, and then i got comfortable and extremely busy. now i just have boxes behind every closet door. but i've scheduled a dinner party for friday september 30th, so now i have a goal. happy. then there will not be the burden of the moon, the menses or the movie-night-debacle. if you are a teacher or have small children that you would like to teach at home, you can learn SO much by looking at the Videos on Demand at www.learner.org

words unearthed

if you know me very well, at all, you will find this anecdote both amusing and familiar: while searching for a completely unrelated item yesterday, i came across an old writing workbook. some things seemed worth publishing, so here goes: (i know, it's probably against everything that little, brown stands for, but i used two colons in the preceding sentence...shoot me). sometime in spring 2001: Anxiety about the next stage Breaks my Concentration Diminishes my sense of self Elevates my level of Frustration God is feeling far from my Heart I'm searching for the true Juxtaposition of life and love Keeping it inside Leaves me feeling alone Making everyone else a character Never makes me feel better Often out of sorts Plainly looking for answers Questions look for me Repeat themselves systematically Truth dances alone Understanding it all Veiling itself With my permission Xciting xtreme xccentricities Yearning for yin and yang Zap 5 October 2000 Aggravation Besets my soul Covered up, Defenseless Energy relinquished Featuring my angst, Gravity fails, Heart resigns I'm at a loss... Just set me free Keep me safe. Laughing Means Never Opening Presents to myself. Quietness quells Resentment. Statues feel more Tranquility. Underneath, Vibrance Waits. Xi minus Yin yang equals Zero. (no date, 2000-2001) Self worth Evades me Covers and shades me Reflections don't show me Except for in darkness Take all the memories Sort through them gently Remember Everything From the beginning Understand with my heart Grasp the things worth winning Evoke the best me People determine what Really they see Often they are wrong Given their view of me Repetition and reflection Even seem far from reach Show me the answers Show me to me 9 October 2000 Making new friends Old ones remain Visits abound Interests engage Never a loss Grieving is okay Remember the school bus Every day a new book Always in another world Discovering Innocence Needs Gratified Melancholy Understanding Smart Inside Credibility

putting it together

only yesterday (friday september 2) did i allow myself to see post-Katrina images, moving or still. and i am pleased with that decision. i placed my name on a volunteer list yesterday to help with the influx of refugees, but i have not received a call.

fear is the opposite of faith

so, today, i continued my ongoing quest for a church to become a part of here in the area, and upon leaving the second service i attended today, i called a friend and lamented, "i hate trying to find a new place to go to church -- it feels like dating, and i hate dating!". she graciously and verbally understood me, and we talked about how we both wished that i could just wiggle my nose and find the perfect fit here. something odd that i am sensing in some of the places i am visiting is almost an apologetic tone from the pastor/teachers when they ask or direct the people to look into the Scriptures. it's Wednesday now, and i must continue to consider this topic. i have much more to say, but i am so tired that i cannot organize my little thoughts. more later.

a really bizarre collage of summer photos. 2005.

the all-time greatest small group. www.cypressvalley.org

the fam.

me and my two KK�s.

just a few fun pics!

bliss

i may or may not have any idea about how to specifically teach a kindergarten class, but i do have quite a bit of knowledge of how to love my students. today, i started my official training with the staff of my new school, and i have ridden a rollercoaster of emotions throughout the day that i would not trade for the entire world. while my previous few years of teaching have taken me on rollercoaster rides of varying degrees of terror, i have yet to experience such a genuine and collective expression of true empathy and understanding of the children we will welcome into the microcosm of our classrooms one week from today.