Frivols

I think that's a word anyway.

So I've been busy packing tonight, after I was finally able to drag myself away from school after conferences. Somehow, even though I didn't get to school till noon, staying there till 8:30 felt like a full day plus. But the conferences proceeded really well, or at least I think they did.

Now that my packing is done (I think anyway), I find I need to unwind my brain a bit. It churns furiously when I'm preparing to travel some place b/c I'm desperately trying to not forget anything. In the interest of saving some money and in proving to myself that I can still pack relatively lightly (and in the interest of using it again), I'm using the backpack I purchased for my trip to Europe. If I can make it through three countries and two weeks of travel with two bags, I can surely do it for 5 days--especially since I can mooch off my family's stuff, too. But still, I worry that I'm forgetting something important. Or more importantly, something expensive.

Also on my list of minor decisions to make by morning is whether or not to take the book I began last night. It's entitled The Secret History of the Pink Carnation. It has an intriguing plot, but it's so generically chic lit and cutesy that I feel like I do when all I eat is sugar--a little sick to my stomach and needing something more substantial. Of course, I still need to finish Bill Bryson. I've been plugging away at it; almost there now. But back to the Pink C--well, even though the author is a Yale grad and a Harvard PhD student, does that really make it worth reading? Do good vocab choices merit worth when the characters are almost ridiculously simplistic. i.e. Guy and girl run into each other, exchange heated conversations that in reality barely cover up their throbbing attraction to each other. They think they hate each other, but find themselves daydreaming endlessly of one another and wondering why it bothers them to imagine that the other seems to dislike them. Gross. I think I liked stories like that in middle school. Maybe high school too. But now I'd like a little more . . .adult action and less junior high stuff.

Well, I must be to bed.

blooms in the dying time

Wow. It is absolutely phenomenal how one's life swings in different directions so swiftly. Last week at this time I was mourning the fact that I wouldn't see my family for Thanksgiving. Now not only am I getting to fly home via help from my "thanksgiving angel," but I felt the warmth of loving friends all around me tonight.

First, my TA. Last Monday I had my writing class and shared very briefly my disappointment in being unable to go home. Tuesday morning I had an email from a lady in my small writing group asking very politely "If you don't mind me asking, is the reason you're not going home for Thanksgiving because of money?" As I didn't really mind her asking (knowing what I do know about her, she's not a nosy woman), I admitted yes. Her reply, "Well, I know this will sound odd, and I'll give you the essay answer why if you want, but I really want and need to offer you $500 to help you get a plane ticket home. No repayment necessary."

Come again?? Really? You want to just randomly give me money? Why? But in my heart, I kind of knew why. However, even with that amount, should I decide to accept it, I couldn't make it home to Amarillo still. It's more like $800 to get there.

So as I often do when I have a crazy story, I call KC. To my utter astonishment, her response is less of a "no way . . .too bad it still costs so much." It was more of a "Oh, that's so crazy! I was looking up flights for you, and I found one for $440 to Lubbock," which is about 1 1/2 hours from my home. I don't know if you believe in signs, but I felt like this might be one that I should go home. As for the reason why, I have no idea. It just seemed too coincidental to have this offer for a plane ticket and an affordable way to get home all in same day and not have it mean something.

So I accepted the money. I know I don't deserve it, but I guess that's part of what makes it so special . . .the sheer grace of it all.

And not to detract from my angel moment, but just my writing class in general tonight. I felt so incredibly, unexpectedly blessed again to have so many people there to support me. Karen, Tess, Leah, and Ryleigh drove me down, and Alison and Chereia joined us soon after. I think everyone was pretty amazed to see so many people come . . .I just felt honored. I felt such admiration for the women and the words and again, such a joy in getting to be a part of a class like that. And such gratitude for having friends who care.

I feel like I've been embraced by Love.

just to reassure you

really, i'm not as nuts as my last entry might make you think. really, i was just agitated to the extreme. then i write about it, and walah--i feel quite a bit better.

the fall of my discontent

i am, for lack of a better word, very unsettled today. (so warning: this is volatile.)

i blame a little of it on my friend suzanne, who brought up the idea that my friend phil may ask me on a date. tonight i hung out with phil. i really like him. he's a great guy, a great friend. but i don't want to date him. i really don't want to date anyone; i don't want to worry about that, and i don't want people to bother me about it, either. just be my friend and leave me alone! lol.

truly, suzanne, if for some reason you read this, i'm not angry or anything; just agitated.

anyway. then i had a very frustrating conversation with my mother. i love my mother, truly i do. but she will always, ALWAYS put concern for finances before any emotional sentiment. for example, today i call home b/c i haven't heard from anyone for several days. i ask my dad if he has any thoughts about thanksgiving; is there any way i can get there to visit? he sorrowfully tells me that he doesn't think that will work, but that all of my family plan on trying to drive up on the 18th of dec, get here on the 19th, spend a few days with me in ohio, and then drive me home with them for the actual Christmas day. then i can fly back to ohio later. i try to look on the bright side of things: a lot of time with my family, and kc is home, so it will actually be fun.

then i talk to my mom. she doesn't call me anymore, so i always have to specifically ask for her. i ask her about this trip; has she gotten all her days off from work? then she proceeds to fumble through a very confusing question-and-answer with me until finally i get the gist of her message: she thinks it will just be a lot cheaper for me to get a roundtrip ticket home. hmm. so, mom, after dad leads to me believe that you guys will FINALLY be coming up to spend some time with me in ohio, in reality, i will ONCE AGAIN be footing the $500 + bill to fly home to spend my time with you guys because of course it is a million times cheaper to have me fly home as a single person than to you travel to me. yeah. i get it. same fucking story. different verse.

why is it so hard for people to come visit me here? i have no money, and yet, i'm ALWAYS the one who has to travel to see someone else. what is so fucking wrong me or ohio or whatever that no one bites the bullet for me, but if i want to see anyone, i have to suck it???????? i really don't get it. i don't. i don't. i don't.

and then. well. i wonder what the hell am i doing in oh? what possible purpose can there be for me to be here still? i feel like i have these tentative little roots here, but i can't fathom why because those roots seem to be growing nowhere fast.

i really hate when i feel this way. so negative. so angry. so . . .hurt. mom, why can't you just understand how your neverending focus on money concerns stabs me when it means you won't do everything you can to make a sacrifice for me? you won't sacrifice to come see me? why am i 27 and not married or a sister or something? why am i so pointless?

i wish i could just skip thanksgiving this year. maybe christmas, too. i wish i felt like i would be happy and fulfilled if i could live near my family like most other people do. i wish i had my own family, my own permanence. i wish i belonged somewhere.

so here's the thing

all day and half of last night my little inner voices have been arguing with each other. am i admitting to craziness? not quite. perhaps you might relate.

have you ever found yourself wondering if you're doing the right thing? i have found that it is very disconcerting to really try to do what you believe is right, and then have people question you or not understand you. granted i am not referring to some huge crisis, just a small one.

last evening, i received an email from a parent, a really good, caring parent. she tells me that her daughter hates school, which she has never done before. the mother tells me that she doesn't remember 8th grade being this hard for her older two kids, one of whom i taught. she is concerned that religion is too hard. she asked me to respond her email with my thoughts when i get a chance.

so of course, my brain has been whirring with potential responses since i read the email last evening. my first thought is that i feel really awful that her daughter is hating school for the first time ever because of my classes. maybe it's not just mine, but i think it's safe to assume that mine must be the worst. as i have always hoped to create an environment that made students feel encouraged and excited to learn, it's really a blow to hear that someone hates what i am doing.

so then i must question: am i too hard, especially in religion? i know that i expect the kids to learn the material of church history, which has a lot of names and events that most people don't know, much less 8th graders. i don't give open book tests, as i suppose other teachers do. so is it wrong to expect them to learn this info? i give them notes and a study guide; we do activities that i intend to help kids learn the material. some do very well, but some, like this girl i guess, are overwhelmed. then there is this diocesan-wide test, the acre test, that measures how well our school teaches religion. and there is so much they don't seem to know/remember.

then do i change it? am i doing something wrong? i really don't think i expect too much. it is harder perhaps, but so is high school. i guess the hardest part for me to know is whether i'm doing the right thing the right way for the right reasons. i sure try to. is that enough?

Oh, hello again

ummm, oops.

i kinda forgot about this guy. all my writing i've done has been for class or school, so internet kinda fell off my plate.

anyway. life's pretty good. today was pretty great because i scrapbooked with some friends. three more pages almost completed in the scrapbook i realized i've had in my possession since '01. silly me.

i actually have a few stories i mean to share on this site . . .eventually. i must get to bed as, well, i have to get to the good part in the book i'm reading. (i'd tell you what that book is, but i'm a bit embarrassed . . .kind of a fluffy one, but at least no one is having sex on the cover. inside the cover, a little.)

sooo, off to the book!

One of those weird days where you know someone out there is listening

My brain is a dryer right now . . . thoughts are tumbling around inside of it, and I'm trying to make sense of what just whirled past. Was that a sock? Or underwear? You get the picture, I hope.

I really didn't intend to write anything today, but bam! sometimes life just hits you with things you shouldn't ignore. Being at church this morning I was reminded just why I make the trek down there every time I can. First of all, I just love how my choir people welcome me right in, even though I'm barely there in time for mass these days, much less choir practice. Secondly, I had a little nun who about comes up to my belly button ask me if I intended to come to the Lenten stations of the cross this year because she remembers the reflection I gave two years ago, and she was so touched by that. Awh! Third, I get to see my friends at church there, and this weekend, the Radelets and the Zlatic parents were there to celebrate Mark and Joe's first birthday. I like them (the parents; I already really like the others) more every time I see them. Then Fr. Greg's homily was pretty great; he said something that I wanted to remember . . .something attributed to St. Francis (whose feast we celebrated today). . .something like "I have done what I was meant to do; I pray that you do the same" or something along those lines.

But the biggest sense that there is someone out there who wants to reassure me came post-Mass. I was briefly shopping around in the Sarah Center, a store in the old St. Francis bookstore that sells crafts made by women in OTR, and the proprietor of the store tells me, "Oh, I love your hair!" Now, you must understand, I have a very love/hate relationship with my hair. It is a massive, messy mane that takes far more time than I had this morning to get the fly-aways to cooperate, to get the curls to lay together, etc. In short, I was feeling a little anxious about having not tied it back before getting to mass; instead hoping that however it airdried would be tolerable. But by this time, I could feel the frizz. So I responded to the lady, "Oh, thanks. It's a little crazy and frizzy this morning! Didn't have time to really fix it."
Her response? "But that's precisely what makes it beautiful."

Huh? Say again? I don't get it. My hair is beautiful . . . because it is frizzy? Not despite it? I . . .don't know what to say. If that is true . . .well, then I've been thinking about beauty in entirely the wrong way.
So I've been thinking about what this lady said ever since. And I'm still thinking on it. I'll get back to you.

But here's an appreciation of beauty that DIDN'T surprise me. I received the most comments today on my shoes. Now, since I love shoes and own quite a few pairs, it is not unheard of that people will comment on whichever pair I'm wearing. But these shoes, well, I'll admit, even I find them dazzling. They include about 4 inches of a narrow, golden heel; long, pointed toes; and this brilliant metallic purple hue that matched rather well with my purple top. They're hard as hell to walk or stand in for very long, but they get a lot of admirers. You know who really seems to like them the most? Men. Yes, men seem to LOVE heels. The taller, the better. I had one random guy stop me and say, "You know, I just have to tell you how much I love your shoes! I saw you walk in today, and thought they were great!"
Um. Ok. Thanks. Now don't have an orgasm over it.
I could feel the eyes of the men in OTR staring at my feet and figured they were admiring the shoes, too. No one said anything directly, but I could hear murmurs as I moseyed past. There is a part of me that would LOVE to better understand the appeal of heels to men. Don't get me wrong; they are stunning (not mine in particular, just in general), but they're the most impractical things. And men love 'em. Women, too, but men feel the need to comment on them like they do nothing else I ever wear. It makes me wonder how many sexual fantasies feature heels. I wonder if I could wear whatever I want, say a potato sack or "mom" jeans and shoulder pads from the 80's, and a pair of pretty heels and still get men to react the same way. If I were a more daring kinda gal, I'd test that out.

And now, to tie all these random things together . . .my point is that I had been wondering if I could be beautiful without special makeup or done-up hair. And the answer seems to be it's possible to be natural and beautiful at the same time . . .if I also wear heels.