My McDonald's Coffee Moment
So Lean Pockets were on sale this week at Meijer. They're ok, I hadn't had any for a while, so I bought some. Little did I know.
I enjoyed the Philly Steak & Cheese.
I enjoyed the Ham & Cheese
I enjoyed the Turkey Broccoli & Cheese
Then I got to the Chicken Fajita
Perhaps it was my exceptionally efficient microwave.
perhaps it was that I was REALLY hungry after not eating for seven hours.
Perhaps I was lulled into eating it before its instructed minute of rest by my earlier Lean Pocket experiences.
When I bit into that luscious promise of pocketed goodness, molten cheese spewed forth upon my tender chin and scorched away my tender skin!
I now have a smallish hole in my chin.
I miss my skin.
A pox upon your house vile fajita!
Involvement
I think it’s interesting to hear people describe themselves—what pieces of info they choose to share at first and what impression they want to make. It shocks me how many adults want to impress me (yeah, I have my people I instantly want to impress as well). These conversations are much different in working relationships than friendships and friendships than dating, etc.
One of the weirdest places to do this is church. I’ve recently been asked a number of times about what I’m involved in. Part of me thinks this is great considering Mark’s message last week, but part of me questions the motives of those asking. A few of the queries I’ve fielded have been motivated by comfort level (they’ve met me; am I part of this Quarterlife thing they’re thinking about showing up to?). I have no problem telling this set that yes, I’m involved, have been for awhile, it’s got decent leadership which I’m a part of and there’s a women’s bible study I co-lead in my living room on Wednesdays as the conversation progresses.
This full answer only applies to that set of people (apparently my blog-reading public as well, but I’m guessing most of you know me well enough to unpack that anyway).
There’s another set that’s getting ready to judge my spirituality and our possible friendship or no based on my answer. It’s sort of in the way the question is asked—lead up to after other prestige questions or before much has been said. There’s this feeling that I get that if I’ve got the right pedigree, we’ll try a friendship. If not, why bother?
This attitude fully annoys me and makes me sad.
One of the things I initially liked about Riverview was that no one asked for that pedigree or tried to “get a feel” for my Christianity. They just let me reveal it in time. Heck, one friend still discovers my involvement with CCC on a regular basis not because he doesn’t find it important, but because he does find it unimportant enough to retain in his mental file cabinet.
The first time I met Steve Sommerlot I didn’t even know he was a pastor. I think we talked about coffee flavors and whether coffee has more caffeine or sugar if it has added flavor. I like that my first interaction with one of my pastors was not loaded with the subtext of how-Christian-are-you?
On the other hand, it is a fair question—the things a person believes, thinks and feels make up who they are. These are often indicated by how they use or waste their time and occasionally by their level of involvement in something.
So here we go—how does one answer that question in both a humble, non-self-serving manner and honestly without negative pride?
Also, meeting with my prof. today @ 6. Please pray for me.
I lost my pants today at school.
No good can come of this.
A: Why is the Skidmore house blue?
Me: Because it was easy to mix.
Pretty Toes
I've been wanting to do this rainbow thing for a while for a while but have been concerned by the connotations. At the moment I don't think I care. Besides,symbols are really about what we make them anyway.
I'm also considering a daisy with rhinestone center on the big toes.
What do you think? Too much?
Return of the Grammar Goddess
Item One: Then/ThanThen--indicates time or sequence (e.g. We all ate the ex-lax brownies,
then spent the evening in the bathrooms.)
Than--indicate preference or comparison (e.g. I'd rather have a cookie
than a cold sore.)
Item Two: A/AnA--Goes before words which begin in consonants (e.g.
a cookie,
a cold sore,
a cat,
a concussion).
An--Goes before words which begin in vowels or the sound of a vowel (e.g.
an elephant,
an eggplant,
an earache,
an hour).
Item Three: Effect/Affect (by special request of Holly)
Effect-- Usually a noun, when bring about, brought about, cause, caused or result (or any of their conjugations) can be substituted in the sentence or when a noun is definitely called for (preceded by a, an, the, no, any, etc.) (e.g. She was unsure how she could
effect a change in Americans' grammar, OR The desired
effect was not achieved when the small dog blew up.)
Affect-- Usually a verb, emotional responses or when "influence" not "cause" is the main point. (e.g. Will Mark's sermon this morning
affect your desire to be involved in Riverview? OR His decision to become a vegan
affected our relationship.)
Please feel free to leave your own examples/attempts in the comments section:)
And the Weekend Was.....
A) Went to see
The Fantastiks. It was surreal. Entirely. The whole experience.
B) Went to GR to see Betsy (Jay was playing Ultimate). Very good time. Refreshing and loving. Hopefully she will start blogging. Intro'd me to kiwi pear green tea which I actually thoroughly enjoyed.
C) Saw
The HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Lots of fun. The DVD has a sing-along version of So Long and Thanks for All the Fish. We sang it thrice.
D) Bought a selection of flavored green teas at Meijer's. Will post reviews as I sample them.
E) Had one of my favorite snacks for lunch today. Here's how you can make it yourself:
You'll need one or two large ripe tomatoes(this is worth paying for the greenhouse variety), fresh basil (yes, pay the $1.99, the stuff in a jar is useless), and a ball of fresh mozzarella cheese (get this in the fancy cheese section at Meijer, $3.29. Don't bother making this with ordinary mozzarella). Good olive oil (optional--I don't find it necessary or desirable unless I've received ultra-expensive olive oil in a gift basket).
Cut the tomato into relatively thick slices. Lay on paper towels. Place paper towels over the top of the tomato as well and pat (this will soak up all the extra juices and make things less messy).
Slice the cheese into...well, um...slices--a little thinner than the tomatoes.
Wash the basil (sometimes it's gritty with sand). Shake dry.
To make pretty ones, roll up the basil, slice lengthwise and then across to dice. Place cheese on now-papertowel-less tomato, sprinkle chopped basil, drizzle optional olive oil and eat.
To make functional ones, place leaves of basil between layer of cheese and layer of tomato. Eat.
Yes, I know. It's just another version of my tomato & cheese craving fulfilled, but it's darn good and fancy enough to impress the ladies.
Not Unrealistic Goal
While picking out movies at Family Video for a bonding night with the housemate, I took a gander at the all the new releases (I was there for Hitchhiker's). New relational goal: to see friends more frequently than the time it takes for a decent movie we've seen in the theatre to move to video.
My House Last Night:
5:15pm: Leave school after
Oklahoma! crew & build planning to go check out the fog at Hawk Island.
5:26pm: Get hit by torrential rainstorm, assume fog will be gone. Drive home fearing for life due to other drivers who seem to have forgotten what to do with non-dry roads.
5:55pm: Order Szechwan at high prices for home delivery instead of cheap pizza. REALLY look forward to eating. Debug my laptop. Wonder why it has porn issues. Be glad for pop-up blockers.
6:15pm: Dinner company arrives in the form of Mark.
6:30pm: Food arrives. Eat. Enjoy fortune in fortune cookie; “Your feet shall touch the soils of many lands”. Play with varying meanings of “soil” mentally.
7:30pm: Receive call to pick up small grey dog for the weekend. Question my sanity and wonder what the effects will be on small calico cat.
8:00pmish: Pick up small grey dog, Mark in tow (he picks up a wedding video he produced).
8:10ish: Arrive home with small wet grey dog, video and Mark. Watch cat puff up to twice her normal size (is she inflatable? No, just extra puffy. Apparently dog acts as a natural fluffing agent). Realize cat looks silly, not threatening, when puffed as such.
8:12ish: Pop in video so Mark can enjoy his work.
8:30ish: Get caught watching wedding video by person dropping off food for dog. Feel slightly odd about the situation in the same way the girls from Friends did when they got caught trying on wedding dresses, but not that extreme.
8:31ish-11ish: Talk and goof off. Watch dog ignore cat and try to snack on her feces. Watch cat un-puff and re-puff while doing everything but ignore dog.
11:15pm: Take Blue Like Jazz and go to bed. Cat and dog both want in bed with me, definitely without each other. Small tussle ensues in the region of my knees. Dog heads to kitchen, cat heads to spare room. I shut each into his or her chosen location. Cat yowls. Dog yips. I pat. Then I go to bed.
New plan: to keep cat off counter, keep dog in kitchen.
5:15am: Cat is singing. Dog is sleeping. Cat goes out. Dog goes out. I go shower.
5: 30am: Get out of shower and hear much dog barking. In robe and towel, go out to get dog. Neighbors’ friend is skulking by her door. Speaks while I speak to dog. Scares crap out of me. NF wants to pet dog. Dog obliges. Dog, me, robe and towel go back inside. Cat is MIA.
6:00am: Cat comes in. Dog asks if he may taste her. She says no. Dog attempts to taste her anyway. Cat appears on top of refrigerator. Me: “Well, this is new….” Wet dog sits on my foot, pleading for another taste of cat. Decide to make coffee. Pack lunch. Feed cat. Feed dog. Forget to feed self.
6:20: Put lunch in bag, dog in kitchen, coffee in travel mug, brain in head, feet in shoes, key in lock, cat in hand. Engage in sport of kitten tossing. Off to school.
Camping Pics
Yi carves the eating utensils.
Kim and a tent.
Naomi abandons the carved utensils for primative chopsticks.
Kim uses the utensil!
Triops
I have one triops.
You have one triops Meg?
Yes, yes. I have one triops.
Is it a nice triops Meg?
Yes, yes. It is a nice triops.
What is a triops Meg?
I will not tell you. You must look it up.
How does one keep a small cat from bringing insulation nozzles into bed?
Why do I have more than a dozen insulation nozzles?
Is she stealing from the neighbors?
Ok, let me clarify. It's not that I feel un-liked or even need to be, but I did feel invalidated today. Like I was not good enough. And truth is, as kind as it was, that was the message.
On top of that, I've unwittingly hurt a woman who has been kind to me even if she scares me a bit.
I am not at my best with people who scare me. I am not a flight-type of girl. I am a fight-type of girl. It's only by the grace of God and years of practice I can rein in my somewhat cold, cynical wit in such a situation. Heck, the smilies themselves would be hurtful enough if I let them slip.
So part of it is that I am sorry to have hurt a good woman--and I deserve the pain of guilt on that one.
The other part is that I do indeed value being self-reliant and competent more than I should. Being seen as needy or lost is rough on me. There's a name for this. Pride. Dang pride.
Certain friends have been instrumental in getting me out of that particular tree, but that doesn't mean I'm not still afraid of heights.
But thank you for liking me anyway:)
Liked
I am glad it's Bible Study night. I just spent time at MSU that was trying desperately hard to be encouraging, but was not. I actually cried a fair amount. What is wrong with me? I never used to cry like this.
Anyway, I need to spend some time being liked right now.
I just want to be liked.
The Perils of Google
Do you ever google your dreams? I googled a couple of mine today. I won't tell what I discovered.
The Puzzle's in Peices
Sometimes having a house of my own scares me. So much to take care of, so sedentary. I have this dichotomy of dreams. One part of me dreams of a husband, a child for each of our hands and a family dog. No more work of the sort I do now, just the harder stuff of bringing up little round-cheeked mammals into human adults. The other part of me is a wind-wizened adventurer, hating that I have a permanent address, ready to get on a plane and go anywhere, desiring Peace Corps or DODs schools. And both of these parts of me are equally true. And I voice that I believe they can fit together. But I’m not living either right now and it’s this middle ground I’m trying to figure out.
I alternately fear to give up yet another place in this world (I have tried others) with a good job, a good church and a comfortable home and envy those who change space.
Like Water for Chocolate
I thought a lot on the beach. The water was cold, and the sun was warm, and the company was good, and the thoughts were sweet.
Like chocolate.
Moving On..but Not Me
Mark is leaving and I feel like a little kid. Just to clarify, I’m not mushy-gushy on him. But I am going to miss him. He’s been across the street for more than a year, showing up on my doorstep and distracting me from other things I should be doing with conversation, videos, games, food and drink. I enjoy Josh, but I barely see him. I enjoyed Jeremy, but rarely saw him either. It’s been good to have a friend nearby. Kinda like an adult version of the dorms or a return to childhood where your friends were whoever’s house you could walk to.
Michigan Native
One of the things I miss about other cultures: the constant dropping in and choosing to choose people over solitude. Yes, I suppose I am part of the Bowling Alone culture without my neighbors.
And yes, I suppose the bible is a chocolate thing, not a salad thing.
Romeo & Juliet
Blue Like Jazz is a good book. I laughed myself into a snorting fit over the Romeo & Juliet bit. I always think the same thing at the end when everyone else is mushy—Romeo & Juliet a perfect love story? They’re dead!
Do you have any idea how scandalous that is in my profession?
Meg is Back
Wow. Great weekend. These next few posts will be in random order that you will be able to assemble in to a bigger picture if you are vey bright and know me a little.
I love being out in the silence. It causes me to think. I equally love the city, but this weekend was perfect for now. It was beautiful out there. Rolling dunes, sounds of wind and water. Perfect weather, no bugs, perfect temperature.
We watched the sun set and moon rise. We giggled and girl talked. We spent a REALLY long time trying to cook bratwurst over the campfire. We swam and sunned and slept and read. We peed in the woods and carved our own spoons (pictures forthcoming) b/c I forgot to pack the flatware. I think it just added to the adventure for us.
We also had a bunch of guys camped a bit closer than we'd have liked (we thought maybe they were European since they all wore speedos--not so, they yelled at each other in English) and could hear their shouting late into the night.
Easy, good times.
Where's Meg?
Meg is
here.
Superawesomecool.
Frightening
People who
blog as their children frighten me. I bet they're the ones who live vicariously through them later.
Kitty Crisis
From Fraywatch last week:
"Cat Lovers … : … abound in
Dispatches Fray burying the lede in response to Blake Bailey, who left his feline behind while
escaping New Orleans. If anyone needs further evidence that
Bill Frist is a non-starter in 2008, then
here it is. If Frist—who mined animal shelters in Boston for kitties to operate on while at Harvard Medical School—tries to mount a serious candidacy, there's a silent, bipartisan army of kitten-return-address-sticker users ready to tar him. Feline Nation will make the Swift Boaters look like the 4-H Club. "
And the funny thing is, he's right. Since having a cat I've entered a strange underground society of kitty-crazed consumers. Given, as a single ,English teacher, with house and cat, I am their poster girl, but it's just wierd when a person you barely know seems to think you're soulmates the rest of the world simply can't understand because you're both buying kitty litter.
FYI, my return address labels have snowflakes on them.
Sunny Days I Thought Would Never End
As I got into my car and started to drive my sweet little self home today, with Tom Petty on the radio (one of his truly rockin' songs, not a depressing one), in the middle of the sunshine, it began to rain.
I love that! Sunshine and rain at the same moment! It's such a dichotomy. I think I do a pretty good job keeping genuine sunshine in my life during the rain, but I just forget how beautiful it is as a combination.
I generally enjoy rain, but it's different when I can put my whole self into appreciating it. The last time I remember really loving rain was in Egypt. Egypt gets very cold and very hot, but it does not get rain.
This was before my apartment was robbed, after the plagiarism scandal, before I'd decided to come home, after I'd settled into a routine and learned how to live richly and simply in the place I called home.
I was working with some students after school in the library when it started to rain. At first it was so delicate I couldn't tell if it was really raining or just wishful thinking. But my students confirmed it. It began to rain harder. It was wonderful. I listened for a moment and then found myself on the way out the door calling for my students to come with me if they had any fun left in them after a day of study. Five of us clattered down the stairs and out into the courtyard.
We ran through the rain--tried to splash in the piddly puddles and laughed from deep inside. It was good.
Cairo is incredibly polluted so the rain left black spots on our clothes. The security guards thought we we nuts. My students thought I was nuts.
We all went back to the library slightly damp and very satisfied.
Good Suprises in the Form of Friends
Emily dropped by tonight just to drop off Blue Like Jazz. What a gift! The perfect sort of suprise to slip into a full day--right after I got up from a nap, just before Bible study and twice in a month.
This is what I miss about foreign cultures.
Father Figures
I ended up with a really good one. My dad is loving, caring, articulate, interested. He's a lawyer and taught me how to argue and think. He's an outdoorsman who taught me to love the created world. He's a husband who has stayed in love with his wife for 37 years. He's helped me do things he'd much rather I didn't. HE calls ME almost every week.
I won't pretend he's perfect--he's got his own agenda, is occasionally stubborn as a mule and I know he has his own set of fears, flaws and issues. He's just plain weird. Honestly, I like his weird though. Who else can get that excited about a reenactment?
They say a child's father dramatically impacts a person's view of God. I think it's been easy to love and trust God in large part because I easily love and trust my dad.
In one day I had two students bring very personal things about their dads to me. And neither was good. Ouch. Ouch. And ouch.
Fathers and future fathers, tell your children you love them. Teach them what you know. Spend the time. Tell them when you see them doing something good. Ask to look at their school work and praise them for the good stuff, help them with the stuff that they aren't getting. Give them grace when they aren't good at something. Tell your girl she's growing into a fine woman. Be specific about what you find fine-womanish about her--her caring heart, her help around the home, her choice of reading material, her service to others, her pursuit of God, her love of justice, perhaps her athletic ability. Compliment the surfacey stuff too. Don't forget your daughter needs to believe there is beauty in her--not just that deep inner beauty of character, but that she has chosen a pretty color of toenail polish and has done something nice with her hair. Tell your son he doesn't have to be you to be accepted. Find out how he's defining manhood and help him bring that in line with godly manhood. Compliment him. Ask how he FEELS about things--don't let his feelings be the domain of his mother.
Be the father first, friend if you can. Say no.
Heck, a father who reads is more predictive than any other factor in literacy rates.
Men in general: You are a role model. Get used to it. Be kind to the cashier kid. Realize the high school kid in the lobby is listening to how you joke. Somebody is watching how you interact. And you're changing their paradigm.
Me, Tea and the HRC
I am a self-proclaimed tea loather. Not lover, loather.
However, it was pointed out to me by a former student and constant visitor that I was quite happily drinking tea most of last winter when I couldn't do without a hot beverage (it was 60 in my classroom) and needed to reduce my caffeine intake before my students started rumors that I was on speed.
Second item of the day: The HRC needs a new advisor. The HRC is the Human Rights Club at school. Another former student asked me to consider advising. So here's the question--can I be completely onboard as an advisor with their agenda when it opposes my personal beliefs? And should I do it considering my sad failure at mastering the fine art of time travel and I lack the ability to adjust the space-time continuum to my liking? Besides, it's one more set of hours I'd be giving the school for free. And I have little enough non-work time as is.
Sheesh, I think in run-on sentences.
So what do I think is really going on here? I think I'm learning a little bit more about the part of my faith that requires me to think through what I think I like and what I really like, what I think I can do and what I do (and can do), what I am required to do because of the "for such a time as this" thingy and what is just my own messy legalism.
Sigh. Human skin is thin.
Stalkworthy
So I've decided that it is not stalking to read another's blog even if I don't know the author--heck, they put it out there!
Anyway, so I made it up to the As today in Noel's blog. Funny isn't it, how mild-mannered young men know non-mild mannered friends of the sort that own pleather mermaid outfits....teh-heh, good for him. The things you'd never know if it weren't for a blog......
Went to the beach today. I've only been thrice this summer. It was good to bond with the housemate and made me generally remember my identity may be tied up in all my inner workings of teacherhood and all that entails, but it is not the whole of me nor even the most important part.
If my life were a TV drama it would be titled "Priorities" this episode. Is it more important for me to do things in a way that will command respect or in a way that will feed the human part of others? Is it more important to take a day at the beach and reconnect with a good friend or get all those things that are causing anxiety sorted out (I host a particular kind of anxiety that isn't quite worry. I figure God's got the situation in hand, but I still have this sense of unease that ebbs and flows until I see how that God plan is going to work out). Should I go see my brother or save the money? How can I best use this little time I have to make a deep impact? Is servitude always the best form of servanthood?
And that's just the start of it.
Warning: Rant commencing
Ok, so I'm taking until December 1 to do the single thing. I've never purposefully not dated and, quite frankly, it's always seemed like a truly stupid idea(Disclaimer: that was personal opinion, if it's working for you, hey, to each his or her own). Most mature Christians I know do not have the problem of dating too much. Instead, it's just short of a miracle that anyone ever actually manages to date anyone and definitely a miracle that marriages happen and babies are born.
I've always been prudent while dating. Not judging, but attempting to make sure guys had a pretty decent founding in the faith and were professing Christians before we went out. BUT, professing ain't being and foundations crack. In fact, some of the premises they had as foundations had to have been invented while on crack. And the whole "I'm ok, you're ok" approach to spiritual subjects is soooooooooo far from ok...I'm not even commenting further.
So I'm opting out for a bit. This isn't me being hyper-spiritual or attempting to re-align my basic dating philosophy. I ain't kissing dating goodbye. I'm not joining a nunnery or trading in my love of lanky geeks or football pants. I'm just tired. I want to make sure when I date I'm doing it with integrity and enthusiasm. When I couldn't juice myself up for another dinner and a movie with a pretty ok guy and got a couple of bewildering phone calls, I knew it was time for a break.
So I'm taking a break.
Yes, it really is that simple.
So leave it alone and quit trying to stick a halo on my head.
September 11
Four years ago I had moved to Egypt for what I thought would be a long time (it was a year).
I was living in Mokkatum at that point in a huge, white, somewhat extravagant building with marble floors.
The short and relatively ill-told version oof that day is that I rode a bus, taught at school, wrote my brother a very oridinary letter, had my roommate tell me "they are gone", discovered she meant the twin towers, watched a very squiggly broadcast of the event in French, broke a large granite countertop, packed to evacute, realized we wouldn't be evacuated even if we wanted to be, talked to my mom while she was at LCS via satelite phone and went to bed.
It was nearly a year before I really saw the footage. Some students were very sorry. Others thought the US was getting what it deserved. All tried for it not to be Arabs who did it and the Jewish plot theory was very popular.
It started all sorts of things. Families that have someone in the military started to brace themselves. And we still do. But my brother made it through Iraq and Afghanistan and he is
And for that I am grateful.
Enough for today I think.
Conflict
My head and heart are heavy. I’ve got that general feeling of unease that comes with conflict. And I am conflicted.
So.
MSU isn’t giving me my degree at the moment. I’m concerned that they won’t. But I’m sure I did everything I was supposed to. Way back in December I started this process and went through their protocols. I specifically asked about the one part I thought was iffy. I got a signature.
Had I been advised that they didn’t like three of my credits, I would have made other plans. As I was led to believe I was OK, I considered it all good.
I am not the best student. School takes a third after family/god life and work. But I’m good. I do what needs to be done and try my best to get what I need out of it. I’m grateful to the profs who have provided me with what I’ve needed and who have delivered what they thought I needed. I think rules are there for a reason and are generally fair and good. I think this time they are not used well and are about to penalize me for parts of the system that failed me.
I don’t pretend that my education as an educator is over. In fact I’m pretty sure I’ll be taking classes in Ontario to perfect my theatre curriculum next year. But I am finished with this degree. And I want that piece of paper.
Please pray for peace, wisdom and a speedy resolution. That I would be articulate and respectfully bold. That I would be able to accept any outcome without bitterness and woudl pursue this to the end.
Grammar Goddess
Ok people, if I am going to continue to read blogs I need to get this off my chest before my computer screen becomes mussed with corrective ink.
First, let me state that I am aware I am a geek (but I have a tattoo, that helps the coolness right?), and that I am an English geek, and that I really need to set down my colorful pen and have a weekend.....BUT this particular set of usage drives me nutso.
Item One: Its/It'sIt's--Contraction of the words "it" and "is" (e.g.
It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. OR
It's silly of you to wear socks in the shower.)
Its--Shows possession (e.g. Don't take
its toy or it will bite off your knuckles)
There is NO SUCH WORD as
its'. It simply doesn't exist in the English language.
Item Two: There/Their/They'reThere--indicates location (e.g. Don't you dare put that dead armadillo on the couch! Put it over
there, in the trash can!)
Their--indicates possession (e.g. That is
their house, it is impolite of you to walk in without knocking.).
They're--contraction of the words "they" and "are" (e.g.
They're honeymooners on their honeymoon.)
Item Three: Your/You'reYour--Indicates possession (e.g. Is that
your child drinking out of the dogs' dish?)
You're--Contraction of "you" and "are" (e.g. With this sentence,
you're done with the grammar portion of your evening.)
Next up: the much abused then & than and a & an.
I will try to restrain myself from commenting on commas.
Delovely
Ok, so I’ve been noticing I’ve been a little down in my posts of late. I will strive to note a few of the things that have delighted me lately in this one.
So I was eating lunch at the guy/math table earlier this week. I had a lovely little cup of strawberry yogurt. An intern sat down, opened up a QUART of strawberry yogurt and stuck in a spoon. Before I could stop myself, “My yogurt is afraid of your yogurt!” popped out of my mouth. I thought it was kinda funny, the math guys all just looked at me. You can’t make jokes about yogurt bullies with the math department. Just doesn’t work. But it was a delightful idea in my head!
I have wanted for a very long time to live in a house with a Japanese maple. I now live in a house with a Japanese maple. And it’s my house!
We were doing silent reading on Tuesday in class. I decided to read with them, so I picked up a Garrison Keeler book. Pretty soon I was cracking up all over the place. Slowly the kids started sneaking looks at me—I was getting all red and blotchy. They started cracking up. The teacher was being noisy during silent reading! I don’t know when I’ve laughed like that in public over a book in a long time….
I’ve been rolling sushi lately. I had a suite mate who was Japanese when I lived in the dorms and she did sushi a lot (it never involved raw fish then). Then Meijer started carrying what I now know to be severely inferior sushi. Then I visited an all you can eat sushi bar with my brother out in Cali a year or so ago. Then we had some over at that place in the Hannah Plaza when he was out here in July. It was only a matter of time before I started making my own. And now it’s happened. I make dang good sushi!
Last night we (in the bible study) looked at time use and priorities. I’ve been asking God about that a lot lately. One of my colleagues is headed to New Orleans in a few weeks. I want to do that sort of thing. Instead, I do what work is set for me here. I don’t think that I choose to do bad things with my time for the most part, but there are so many good things to do with my time….well, it’s hard to choose. Perhaps more on that happy conundrum later.
Resuming
It always takes me a little time to get back into the swing of school. I have to regrow a leather skin around my heart. Let the compassion remain, separate myself from their experiences.
Only six days in and I'm wiped. Part of that could be because this is the first time I haven't been "on" since 6:30 this morning.
I even gave a test today. Which means I have to grade it. Which I am not doing because when I grade when I am tired I am aware I am less likely to give kids the benefit of the doubt. So I will grade during my prep period. Sigh.
We're also doing auditions. I hate auditions. I want to cast everybody and it can't be done. So I feel like a schmoo and want to cry with the kids who don't get a part. Or don't get the right part.
It's also all the social stuff. When you have 135 kids running through your room in a day, each with their own set of matched personal baggage and full range of imbalanced hormones, somebody is going to be upset. I can deal with the normal stuff; the student calling me a bitch under his breath, so sure I won't hear, or the one who refuses to control her mouth and therefore has an assigned seat she doesn't like and keeps loudly threatening to skip class--does she think I won't call her parents if she goes absent after a heads-up like that? These things hardly bother me any more--it's the nature of the beast and I like them anyway.
But the crises that go with working in a high school confuse and cut me to the point of tears. What do I say to a kid whose parent has disowned her and is now homeless when she asks who she should have sign her permission slip? What do I do when a kid tells me he doesn't have his homework because he can't read? How do I bridge the gap between myself and the kid who was in English with Robbie Bolanowski when he mentions he'd like me to help him compile video about him? How do I hide that my stomach drops to the floor when another teacher casually mentions two of my theatre kids were in a car that got T-boned?
Thank God he told me they were okay in the same breath.
These are the musings that haunt me a little. How do you answer questions that are always rhetorical?
Where Did THAT Come From?
Ok, so this was in my junk email account inbox today. Perhaps it's malicious, but only if the guys dancing didn't know it was headed for mass distribution. Easily the best thing I've seen today. Click
here.
Note 9/10: Interestingly, while reading a guy from Riverview's blog I discovered the same link! Perhaps we're all sharing spam?
Life is Lived Forward but Understood Backward
I only see movies about Africa with people I trust or by myself. Even now, hearing the bantu-accented words, the little brown faces, the surprising mix of colors, patterns and fabrics that make up fashion, Masai blankets, hospitals doing the best they can with so much less than enough---it takes me down.
I can’t describe it as pain or joy or wistfulness, but I get the same feeling I get after a really good date or a really rough conversation that had to be had. It’s a combination of nausea and bliss.
There are very few things I have had to leave unfinished in my life but my experiences in Zimbabwe still don’t feel closed. Sure, I can talk about them. Heck, I can give presentations. If you want to know, just buy me a drink and ask a few questions. There are stories I won't tell for a while, but I can show my scrapbooks and even talk about Gardner, the baby I tried to adopt.
But when I feel like torturing myself, when I wonder if I’m a decent, good, person, when I want to see if I’m a cold, heartless, white American bitch living the good life on the backs of others, I google the name of the orphanage, or the name of a friend or the university and relive a few days. They were short (just six months) but those memories are some of the most vivid of my life.
Egypt was different. When I traveled south to Nubia, it was like Sudan, but there is no genocide there. My mind, my body, I, escaped comfortably.
I saw
The Constant Gardner tonight. I got interested in it as soon as I realized it wasn’t a romance built around gardening. Kenya is only a backdrop for a conspiracy and a love story, but the whole is more than the sum of its parts. Good flick.
A Labor Day
I love waking up with my kitten cat cuddled into my armpit or the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. It is simply good.
On the other side of things, I am afraid of very few things, but those few things have appeared in my nightmares vividly these past few nights. I'm not sure what's up, but I hope it gets un-up in the very near future.
Oddly, the disturbing dreams have not affected the quality of my sleep. Hmmm.
I've been wanting to take a pottery class for about a year now but finances or time have gotten in the way. So I've finally decided I'll just do it, regardless of the consequences. Let's face it, I'm at a loss for personal creative outlets. There's no way I can audition and be in a show while building for
Oklahoma! and I don't want to watercolor. Housework doesn't do it for me, nor yardwork.
So here's the question, do I sign up at Reach Studios on Washigton Ave (nearly walkable from my house) and pay $65 for four sessions + $? materials and do 6:30 to 8:30 every Tuesday in October or do I drive to Haslett, pay $200 for ten sessions, all inclusive (50lbs. of clay, glaze and firing) from 7pm-10pm every Monday Sept 26- Nov. 28?
Dang it. I wish the programs were more comparable. I'll never make it to QL discussion group if I do Reach. I may have a very difficult Tuesday if I do Potter's Guild. Feel free to offer opinions if you care or company if you'd join me for one or the other.
Anyway, I've started using the "next" button and reading random blogs. It's a little creepy but interesting--hey, people put them out there to be read, right? And I've appreciated the random comments left by surfers. I've been working my way through Noel's list in reverse alphabetical order and am up to the Js. There are a couple that I'd become a regular reader of if I didn't feel so stalkerish doing it.
Blogs are weird. I'm going to get dressed and go buy yard care crap. So there. Bleh!
And If That Doesn't Prove It's All Horse Pucky...
Please note the difference the kabalarian name thingy gives between my given name and my nickname (equally used but in different circles).
"Although the name
Megan creates the urge to be reliable and responsible, we emphasize that it limits your versatility and scope, tuning you to technical details. This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the elimination system, and through worry and mental tension.
Your first name of
Megan gives you the desire for responsibility and takes you into practical pursuits. You would excel in work of a technical nature where concentration and attention to detail are important. Whatever you undertake, you have the patience and determination to do well. You feel a sense of security in positions of responsibility where progress is made through systematic, step-by-step procedures. However, you lack vision and you could become too involved in technical details, system, and routine. You do not readily adjust to changes in your routine. "
VS.
"Although the name
Meg creates an active mind and a restless urge to explore new ideas, we emphasize that it limits self-expression and friendly congeniality with a moody disposition. This name, when combined with the last name, can frustrate happiness, contentment, and success, as well as cause health weaknesses in the solar plexus, heart, lungs and bronchial area.
The name of
Meg creates an overly-sensitive nature which causes you to sense and feel far more than you can understand or put into words. You have a deep, artistic, and creative side which shows through a love for music and literature. Writing is a more natural mode of expression for your deeper thoughts and feelings than the spoken word. You have an ability to concentrate and work intently on anything which holds your interest. However, you prefer to avoid routine, monotony, and mental tasks. "
I would like to point out that by these definitions, I am only somewhat a Meg and rarely a Megan. In any case, my solar plexus and bronchial area are just fine, thank you, and please keep your philosophies out of them!
Perhaps I should start going by Hester.
Sparrows
Sparrows are kinda scruffy looking birds. And not in a good way, like scuffy-looking nerf herders.
A bunch of them are partying in the birdbath on my front....um...lawn? dirt patch? mulched area?
This makes me think how glad I am that God takes care of these pathetic-looking birds (the fact that they're wet isn't helping) and how glad I am that he cares for me so much more.
And that destruction outside my window yesterday morning? My neighbors no longer have a sun porch.
Katie/Steve/Katie/Steve/Katie/Steve
I love engagements. Probably more than weddings, definitely more than receptions (Please, PLEASE, people, no more chicken breasts with mushrooms and green beans!).
Katie and Steve got engaged and he gave her a great engagement story (more important than say, the wedding dress, in my opinion. Wedding dresses are basically white and dressy, engagements are much more unique, interesting and likely to be asked about in detail). You’ll have to ask her about it, or him. They’re both pretty thrilled.
I really wanted to get a shot of their hands together showing off the gorgeous ring (and it is indeed gorgeous in that way that will make it a pleasure for her to wear for the rest of her life) but I never got around to it. There will be other opportunities.
It’s interesting that I get so excited for people who get engaged but that—at least at this point—I don’t envy them. I suppose that could be because in my ideal world I’d go from engaged one day to waking up next to him and having coffee the next. I’m not even particularly interested in a ring. The appeal of a diamond is in having someone who thinks I’m worth a thousand dollar ring, not in the ring itself (heck, wearing something of that value on a finger where I could chip it while reaching into the garbage disposal or lose it while mixing paint seems a bit burdensome).
It could also be because I can’t think of anyone I’d want to marry.
A Beautiful Day
Katie and Steve got engaged today. What a beautiful thing to be allowed to be a part of. I have soooooooo much to type and so little desire. So I shall wait until I can do it justice.
I hope they don't mind the picture...hmm.
The Upside of Being Up
My neighbors are ripping apart some part of their property. The banging and crashing started at eight directly outside my bedroom window. So much for sleeping past nine. I suppose that may be a lazy habit anyway.
So yesterday I wrote about media bias in New Orleans. Interestingly, this morning when I turned on the Today show what should be happening but Lester Holt (the Black man on the the Today show team) was interviewing the Rev. Jesse Jackson. Rev. Jackson was pointing out that the majority of the people who have not been evacuated are the urban poor who happen to be minorities. He noted that this subgroup of the American population didn't have the means to get out of town early in the crisis and are being handled as refugees with few rights rather than American citizens who have the freedom to go to their families elsewhere and simply need temporary help to get themselves there.
I taught a media class for a few years. One of the questions I always asked my students to ask was who was controlling the story and what perspective they were presenting. As I've followed the story it's disturbed me how clearly the perspective has been skewed.
Yesterday I was surfing looking at the pics of looting. Black people taking things from stores were captioned as looters. White folk doing the same thing were labeled as scavenging or finding supplies. When Today was interviewing, the majority of the people they interviewed who sounded put together were white, the chanting, frenzied people were minorities. They did end up finding more articulate people as time progressed, but wow. And to make further craziness, I was talking to a friend here who just quietly observed he thought that might just be the usual representative cross section of white/black in the area. No. That's stereotyping and racism. Poise in front of a camera might be a learned thing, but it is not linked to race or intelligence.
Interestingly as I continue to watch TV, Holt is running the show today. I wonder if he's the usual weekend anchor or if others are noting the same thing I am and NBC is responding.
On other issues, Amanda came over last night and we walked from my house down to Frandor via the river trail (a very long walk) for dinner at Aladdin's. They had bellydancing done by rather old and rather pudgy white women. Egyptians would have been horrified. I highly recommend their food, but avoid Friday nights to avoid the rather frightening bellydancers.
Video to Go is right next to the restaurant so we wandered over and dithered between a three disc set of the Sweet Valley High TV series or
The Upside of Anger.
We ended up with
Upside but it was a crappy movie. Joan Allen never gives a bad performance, but this was close. It's the story of a family with four girls and what happens when the father figure disappears. There's not much plot--it's supposed to be character-driven but the mother is so bitter and the daughters so one-dimensional that it's hard to have any empathy for them or even stay awake as the mother binge drinks and screams her way through the movie.
The worst part of it all is that the box promises wit and humor, of which there are none. Here's the spoiler: the father hasn't run off with his Swedish secretary, he's been dead in a hole on the back of their property for who-knows-how-long (the director fails to give much sense of time to the movie, as well as skips some much needed transitional scenes) and they've all been bitter and angry for no reason. I could have been satisfied if they'd done this 30 minutes into the movie. Wasted a movie rental, but at least I got time to bond with Amanda:)
Thoughts in My PJs on a Friday Morning
I think about God a lot. I don’t necessarily talk about him as much as I talk to him and occasionally people catch me praying and figure I’m just talking to myself. Chalk up it up as another step toward crazy cat lady hood.
The little daily choices are in black and white (or perhaps some other color scheme less loaded with good/bad or racial imagery). Say what’s on my mind or swallow my words. Admit an emotional reaction or gloss it over. Get the oil change or lazily hope the person borrowing my car will do it.
These little choices add up to living in the gray. It’s rarely a true white or black. It’s all in the shading.
This messy gray area is where I am just now (and usually, but not usually as consciously). One part is about hurricane Katrina. That is third world shit down there. Freakin’ crazy. Nature is doing a better job at disrupting us than terrorism ever managed. Marshal law, rapes, people dieing from lack of basic sanitation and water, snipers, gunfire at aid vehicles, looting. And don’t get me started on the media’s racial bias.
The other area I’m dealing with murky grayness is the personal life. I think it’s almost time to blog a bit about the men who have passed through in the past few months.
I’ve come to the conclusion I’m not overly hung up on any one of them, but there are things I MISS about each of them and things I miss about who I was when I was with them. I don’t know how to be those things on my own. And I’m not sure I can. Being with someone who’s working on being your other half and working to be theirs is different than being single.
I’m fine on my own. I’m whole on my own. I’m working on growing that part of my character that got suppressed in relationships and training it toward God. I want to have integrity over these next few months of dedicated singleness. I don’t want to forget the crap that comes with being with another fallible human being and the crap that bubbles to the surface out of me. But I don’t want to forget how good it was to be with him either.
What does god have in store?
Order of the Day
So I'm reading Slate and I come across an article that asks the age-old question Should men see their wives give birth? The idea was that men may no longer be sexually attracted to their wives after watching them push a bloody bundle of joy the size of a watermelon out of their, um, you know.
I have to say this has never occured to me but seems like a reasonable issue for a man to have. The miracle of birth may be a beautiful thing, but more in a philisophical sense than literal.
The question in my mind is what woman really wants her guy down there staring when he could be speaking soothingly in her ear, feeding her ice and being generally emotionally useful. He's already expended his full measure of usefulness in the process below the waistline.
Past that, today a student walked backward into my toe and removed my toenail. Ow. It hurts. I resisted swearing.
Also did a superfun hangout/makeover time with Sally and then a mini one across the street. i need to make time to connect with people. Really I do.
