The Ultimate Gift

In my family, literature and movies are serious issues. When I was younger I viewed anything that was not a masterpiece with disdain, aghast to be caught reading or watching, “garbage.” As I have gotten older, I have mellowed. Further I have redefined my perception of media.

There are movies and books that are excellent, but that I really don’t care for. There are movies and books that are excellent that I enjoy, though usually only once or twice. I own these books and movies and I recommend them to many and even loan them to a few. Then there are books and movies that I love and read or watch over and over again. They have many good qualities and I really enjoy them. They are like old friends and close confidants and sometimes even a warm hug of sorts. Then there are the books and movies I think of as “brain candy” or “guilty pleasures.” These are the books and movies that really are not very good literarily, plot or acting wise. Yet for whatever reason they touch a cord with my heart and I find myself focused on them, dreaming about them, even slightly obsessed for a period of time.

Having seen several meme’s of this type I want to share, briefly my categories and what they add… I’ll give my top five (ten of the old friends) of each…

Books

Excellent but Don’t Like

Scarlet Letter

Great Gatsby

Grapes of Wrath (turned off as much by people’s critiques as the work itself!)

A Separate Peace

Summer of My German Soldier

Excellent (!!)

Of Mice and Men

To Kill a Mockingbird

Hinds Feet to The High Places

Looking For Alaska

The Never Ending Story

The Good Stuff

Anything by Torey Hayden

Anything by Susan Elizabeth Phillips

DragonSpell

Harry Potter (any one will do)

Twilight and New Moon

Clan of the Cave Bear

Ender’s Game and Ender’s Shadow

Passion and Purity

Darkly Dreaming Dexter

The Secret Life of Bees

Guilty Pleasures

Historical Romance (Brain Candy and I am trying to cut back)

Warprize, Warsworn and Warlord

Stardancer, Starseed and Starmind

Valley of the Horses

Books based on movies (not the other way around)

Movies

Excellent but I don’t like

Saving Private Ryan

Titanic

Rocky

The Departed

Annie Hall

Excellent

Broken Down Palace

Forrest Gump

Apollo 13

Of Mice and Men (with Malcovich and Senise)

Dead Again

The Good Stuff

Sense and Sensibility

Murphy’s Romance

Serenity

Star Wars, Star Trek, you know, the geek stuff…

Tootsie

The Cutting Edge

Remember the Titans

The Sound of Music

Clueless

Love and War

Guilty Pleasures

The Love Comes Softly series

The X-Men Movies

The Santa Clause Movies (even and especially the 3^rd one!)

Harry Potter Movies (Well acted and well written, but they only make sense if you read the books so how is that a good thing?)

Anything with Brendan Frasier, Drew Fuller, Billy Zane, Tom Welling, Bruce Boxlighter, or Sean Connery. Just because they are cute.

Oh, and The Ice Pirates.

The point of these lists is that I went to see a movie on Monday. I took Nana. We had a terrific time. We were the only ones in the theatre. This is a shame. The movie was called “The Ultimate Gift” based on the book of the same name (that I haven’t read, but am now going to.)

To be honest, the movie is not going to win any Academy Awards, but it was clean, sweet and fun. There was a message, a bit not subtle, and there were some odd holes, but it really was wonderful. I imagine it will become a guilty pleasure of sorts over time, but I’m OK with that. I highly recommend it.

Drew Fuller is adorable (the adult male kind), the little girl (she was in Little Miss Sunshine) is even cuter and they are so fun to watch interact. James Garner is always a joy as is Brian Denehey. Seriously folks, it may only be out for a little while (as evidenced by the empty theater) so go soon.

Big Girl Panties

My whole life has been a struggle to define myself in terms I could live with. When I was a little girl, I defined myself by my family, our history and where we had lived. As I got older I still identified myself mostly through my family, but also, I began to define myself by my beliefs, specifically my religious beliefs. When my parents divorced and my definition through them was shattered, I cast around a lot redefining and shaping how I saw myself. My belief in God changed a lot through that as well, became stronger and an even bigger part of who I was. But there was more too me than that. I developed interests, skills and abilities and those things became part of my new definition. No longer defined by my parental relationship, new relationships were part of my definition too. There also grew and interesting secondary definition of who I wanted to be versus who I was and what it would take for me to be that person.

A lot of who I wanted to be had to do with how I wanted people to view me. I wanted to be wise, strong, friendly and respected. Most importantly I wanted to be loved. That was a definition I dreamed of. To be wanted, to be valued and to be cherished.

That’s not to say that I wasn’t loved. My family loves me and I had (have!) some terrific friends who are like family, but there was more to it than that.

Recently I’ve found myself again at a bit of a conundrum about what defines me in some other people’s lives. Who I am to them, who they are to me and who I want to be to them. The answer was that I really wasn’t sure who I was or who I wanted to be based on my relationship with several people who have taken up residence in my heart over the past several years.

Yesterday, the picture snapped clear and I was very happy with the new definitions. There is still that lofty, far off definition of who I want to be to someone someday and it is not fulfilled in any of these relationships, but I am very happy with the relationships around me right now, and they are in themselves fulfilling.

So here is to daughters, big sisters and very good friends.

Thoughts floating in snot…

Yes, I know that is really gross. It’s true, but it’s gross. It’s funny, all the things you think about when you are sick, though. How rational they seem and normal. Then in the morning you think, “what?”

This week I have been sick. Thankfully, I believe it is viral, and while my sides hurt like I had a run in with a bunch of angry 2X4’s from all the coughing, I do feel better today. Whichever face is in the mirror today looks kind of haggard, but its there, so…

Anyway, snotty thoughts. (Some are half dreams, don't judge too harshly!)

If I paid my team teacher $1000 would she grade my papers this week?

Clearly the dogs are eating up my shoes because I can’t find them and the dogs are probably hiding them to use as boats.

If I have a cookie with a glass of milk that counts as dinner with dessert.

Ice cream is as good as hot tea for a sore throat.

Sudafed Shower soothers are a problem with open drains in shower tubs, so I’m gonna take a colander, put the tablet in there and hold it in front of my face and breath while sitting in the shower… however, it is harder to get it wet that way to ephervess, so I will have to periodically dump water over it… (Go ahead, laugh, that’s how I used it).

The glow of the waterless menthol vapor thing from Vicks gives me bad dreams. Its glow is eerie and spooky and satanic, but it’s the only way I could breathe.

My breathing sounds so funny, with pops and squeaks and squeals and at one point I thought maybe there were tiny animals in my snot and they were trying to communicate with me through the racket (I was half asleep, affected by that stupid Vicks light, but yes I thought that.)

If I drink anymore peppermint tea, I think I may actually fart starlight mints…

However, there is nothing to wrap them in; we are out of saran wrap. (Again, it’s that stupid Vicks light!)

I wonder if I went to school, got all my kids sick and they stayed home, if they would give me the day off?

Nana is trying to smother me with her perfume… It’s a plot by all old women… Again, half asleep with the Vicks light on.

I imagine some of these thoughts were induced by the Nyquil as well… Maybe it was the real me coming through? Who knows?

My Mirror has to faces, but they are both mine!

In therapy on Saturday morning, (I am so blessed that he can meet with me then and as I am essentially the only patient he has all day and we meet at 8:00 he often lets me run over clear until 9:15… God Bless him!) my therapist and I discussed one of the big frustrations in my life. People’s expectations of me. Specifically expectations of me at camp, but also people’s expectations of me over time. It was rather enlightening to me. These were some of the memories that I had.

Not being allowed to do more than give my father a brief hug and kiss when he returned from deployment. Excess was to be saved for home. On the ship PDA was to be kept to a minimum. So even thought I had missed his terribly over the past six-seven months, I had to wait, patiently, quietly and lady-like until we got Dad home before any fuss or outpouring of emotions were allowed.

Mom always told me that I should ignore those that teased me. I couldn’t really do that, but I could pretend I was. My thought was that if they won by getting a reaction out of me, but I saved my reaction till I got home, then their victory was hollow as they did not know it existed. Therefore I was very surprised on day when I made an off hand comment about someone’s hurtful comment and she answered, shocked, “I had no idea it bothered you, you never acted like it did. I’m sorry.”

A good friend from college, MP, saying something about my inability to take care of myself. I answered that I had taken care of myself, my Dad and my brother for some time, just fine thank-you. He responded, “Yeah, we know. But none of us can figure out how you must have done it, because you are always such a mess now.”

The guys at camp always expecting me to fix things for them, bail them out, be the leader, but when I suggest something they don’t like I get told how emotional and hormonal I am.

No one cared or understood why I didn’t want to walk the half mile back to my building alone, in the dark, at 2AM, with no flashlight. “Camp is the safest place on earth!” They laughed, unaware of my tears in the darkness.

A different group of boys at camp, valiantly insulating and protecting me from the awful attentions of a man I consider a sexual predator. These boys were only 17, but they stayed with me until he left, and when one of them tried to hug me after it was over, I panicked and decked him (I couldn’t see him, and thought I was being attacked); yet he apologized to me. For the first time I really did feel like Camp was the safest place on earth.

When a co-worker lost her job this past week, everyone came to find me to go talk to her, find out what was wrong and comfort her. She’s a good friend and I am glad I could help and be there fore her, but why do I always have to be the clean-up crew? Why did they all assume and not do it themselves if they were so worried…?

The point of all these were, I see now that I have two very different sides. There is a very strong, capable and verbal part of me that takes charge, fixes problems and takes care of others. There is also a part of me that is very vulnerable, sensitive and wants desperately to be cherished. Not taken care of, per say, but valued, specifically as a woman. Most people pick the definition of me that is most convenient to them at the time. When they need someone to fix it, they want that half, but when I am a problem or inconvenience, they label me as the second and then disregard me.

“They” is not everyone by the way, not even most, but it is many of the prevalent people in my life right now.

Then there is the issue of explaining to myself who I am. Which of these two am I? My therapist is helping me to see that I am both. Further, there doesn’t even have to be an issue of sides, so much as facets, of which I have many. This is not so much a black and white thing, I am strong and sensitive in turns, one or the other, but more that I am a blended, grey, total.

The reality is people will always choose the perception of least resistance in a given situation until they get to know you, mature in how they perceive others or simply recognize that most people are shades of grey…

This weekend, I accepted both of the reflections in the mirror. I’m not going to fight them anymore.

I’m sorry, what did you say?

As a teacher, this is a common phrase in my repertoire. I use it for several different occasions. It has different meanings depending on the different occasions.

When a child mumbles under their breath, it means “I dare you to say that out loud.”

When a student is mumbling to avoid talking in class it means, “Speak up!”

When a student has been corrected and answers with a “yeah,” “whatever,” or “OK!” it means,

“That is not the right response.” (The right response is, “Yes Ma’am” by the way… yes I am that mean, I enforce that kind of authoritarian behavior…)

When a student has Touret’s Syndrome, but purposefully uses the condition to swear out teachers (really, he has control over what he says, just not when he says it, but he likes to use as many obscene words as possible, including racist terms!), it means “Grunting, clapping, flapping and trilling are all outside your control, but when a certain B word is only used when I am in the room, and in my direction, you have control over what comes out of your mouth. Don’t call me that again.”

It is amazing how adept my students are at seeing each different translation. However it is sad when I see them recognize the message and blatantly disregard it.

When my father used to say those words to me I always knew what he meant too…

When the book ends…

Books are good friends of mine, but they are very finite friends. Again, today, that bothered me.

The book helps to define life for you, share ideas, entertain and maybe even enlighten a little on the human condition, but then it ends.

You can go back, learn more in depth, learn what you missed before, gain nuisance, all that good stuff, but there is nothing new, per say. The friendship has reached the depth and breadth of its existence and the story is over.

I’m looking at what promises to be a good book, sitting here patiently on my desk, waiting to be known and I swear, part of me is putting off starting because then I will have to finish.

Oh my!

Lately (and it may have to do with it being in the top 20 or 40 or whatever right now and therfore playing constantly on the radio!) all I seem to hear is this song in my head. Not my theme-song, yet. It’s too popular, but maybe this is part of my healing, self realization, psycho-babble path…

Not that I am afraid of the book I am reading, ending, but that I am still unwritten.

Yep-per. Full up on Crazy here!

Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield

I am unwritten,
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten ,yeah

Oh, oh

I break tradition
Sometimes my tries
Are outside the lines, oh yeah
We've been conditioned
To not make mistakes
But I can't live that way oh, oh

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips x2 (twice)
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live you life with arms wide open
Today is where you book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
(YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!)

Welcome to the Real World

Just for the record, today I hurt. I did lunges yesterday and my thighs are on fire! My shoulders are killing me too and I still have to work out again today. Further I have now been on this new diet for two days. The food (delivered every morning to my house) isn’t half bad at all. Overall, I’m pretty impressed. However I am adjusting. The portions are huge and the calories are right and everything, but I am still hungry. I think it will just take a little time…

So now, with the exception of finishing up my writing samples for PhD, I am a free agent. No plays, classes or big dramas going on. It’s kind of strange really. I wonder how long I can manage it. We’ll see.

The play went really well. It was strange to sit in the audience and just watch. I had written it and directed it, and yet I found myself profoundly affected by the story. The whole experience ended up being rather surreal. Almost strange. Most of all I was just so proud of the kids and what they accomplished, the fruit of their hard work. We raised nearly $1500 for youth missions in two showings.

Mostly, I feel kind of disconnected, today. There are some odd things swirling around me and I am mostly just watching. My team teacher has never had the luck I did with our assistant principal and is now rather fighting for her job. On the flip side, my evaluations have never been more glowing. I think the assistant principal is wrong and frankly misguided in her persecution of my good friend, but there is little I can do about it and mostly I feel guilty to be succeeding in comparison.

Then there is therapy. This past week my therapist wanted to talk about a past relationship. That was a long time ago, the way I felt about that, and while people are still a part of my life, that particular facet was put to rest a long time ago. Yet here we were discussing it and there I was crying. I don’t know why I was crying. What I felt back then was very real, very deep and is now very over. I mean, I still have a lot of affection for him, I mean, that is love too, but we aren’t really “friends” and seeing him now I know that it would have been a bad match, if it had ever even been a possibility, which I don’t even really believe it was. The tears on that whole mess were dry long ago such that now it is mostly a somewhat funny chapter… And there I was crying. I don’t think it was about that relationship at all, really. We are getting to the problem now and the infection is big, and sore and swollen and we brushed it and it hurt. I am bracing myself for the extraction because I think we are about to get to the biggest, hardest part soon.

Now for the funny. Nana. Oh my. My poor father. He called Nana to get some information, even though she is not his mother, they are still friendly and she does live with me, his daughter, after all. Anyway, he called and Nana talked his ear off for thirty minutes about Mom’s boyfriend. How much he was just like Dad and clearly Mom is trying to find a replacement. My parents haven’t spoken in over a decade. My father was polite with Nana, but had no idea what to say, so Nana kept talking. Dad and I laughed about it later when he called to tell me about it.

Lastly, camp. Camp is blowing full bore with rumor, espionage, back-stabbing, miscommunication and big surprises everywhere. Several of us are really hoping that the soap opera stops soon and that several of our leaders mature quickly before summer starts. Mostly I guess I just think it is funny now, but I am in the minority on that one. My prayer is that we will find someone suitable to be my assistant. I need help.

Anyway, that’s my post for today; I promise the next one will actually have a connection or theme…

Silliness of a Friday

Today I am tired. Bone tired. The kind of tired you have to be if you stayed up with a baby during the night. I know that is the kind of tired I am because I stayed up with a six month old. Now, the baby wasn’t screaming, crying, inconsolable, she was simply awake and happy to be alive. I was not, but that didn’t seem to bother her much.

Nora is Robin’s youngest daughter. She is an important component of the play and so she went to dress rehearsal last night, spent the night and will go with me to performance tomorrow. She is a terrific baby, which is why I was willing to try this, but even in being so congenial, this was quite a trick. She woke up at Two AM and I was unable to get her settled until Four Thirty.

Today we are starting Greek Mythology and the Odyssey. After explaining to the class that Aphrodite came into being from the sea foam that was generated by Cronos throwing the parts of Uranus that was castrated into the ocean, I got a rather odd question. “So does Aphrodite have both ‘parts’ then? Oh! Is that where the word ‘hermaphrodite’ comes from?” That was fun to untangle, let me tell you!

Last week a child decided that they would rather do an entire project over again, one they had spent an entire week doing, rather than come back to my room and get their binder that they had left in class the day before. The other teachers think I should be proud of the fear I generate.

Two of my actors, who happen to be brother and sister, were rehearsing so loudly yesterday, before they came to dress rehearsal that their father actually thought they were arguing and was about to break up the fight.

The annually circulated rumor that I can do a one handed push up has begun the rounds in the 9th Grade Academy again. Where these kids get this I have no idea. If I deny it they don’t believe it. If I say I can they want to see. Again, one of the new coaches came by to ask me if it was true. I will neither confirm nor deny my ability to perform such skill! That is my answer and I’m sticking to it!

Next week Nana and I will be getting our meals delivered to us each day by a service that cooks meals from the Zone Diet. What does it say about me that I now have someone cleaning my house, I need a trainer to work out and am having my life catered. All this to try and lose weight. I feel slightly pathetic.

Nana may or may not have chipped a bone in her foot. She doesn’t care. She just wants to hold baby Nora and rock.

I just want to sleep.

Play tonight. No broken legs, hopefully not even a broken foot!

Life Imitating Fiction

So I read these two amazing books, 600+ pages each in two days. Twilight and New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. She’s a down to earth, Mormon kind of girl (she went to Brigam Young, so I am assuming) who writes fantasy fiction about vampires and werewolves. How cool is that. Her books are very angsty, sensual and romantic, yet have no swearing and the word sex has never even been used I don’t think. It’s kind of neat. It makes me think of chivalry and courtly love and the whole "romancer of one’s soul" kind of thing.

Anyway, in this book, or by the second one anyway, the heroine, who finds herself in love with a vampire (and he is a good one, who doesn’t bite people), then finds herself broken when he splits up with her for her own safety. She then starts spending a lot of time with a new boy with a secret of his own and he becomes her best friend. Bella comments on how she feels about the new best friend.

“I remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother. I realized now that all I really wanted was a claim on him. It didn’t feel brotherly when he held me like this. It just felt nice-warm and comforting and familiar. Safe. Jacob was a safe harbor. I could stake a claim. I had that much within my power… Would it be so wrong to try to make Jacob happy? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after my fickle Romeo, would it be so wrong?”

There is no fickle Romeo in my life, and not exactly a Jacob either, but I felt this passage, all the way down to my soul. I feel like the echo.

I’m not sure what to do with that picture, now that I have it.

Dilemma

So now I am faced with a Dilemma. It may not seem like much of one, but it’s there for me, none the less.

My therapist and I have pretty much agreed that the way I deal with relationships, specifically romantic entanglements, is pretty much a survival mode kind of thing. For the most part I don’t get involved; I keep myself out of the game and keep myself too busy to notice. Then I go around mothering people. All of this is making me very tired, too tired to miss what I don’t have except on the rare occasion when I sit still too long… But for the most part this system works. Except not exactly right now because I have managed to get myself a little more entangled with several people a little more than I usually do or meant to this time even, and these relationships aren't romantic, exactly, but they are getting rather intimate emotionally and I am a bit confused and overwhelmed sometimes because I don’t exactly know how to deal with it, them, whatever!

If we fix it, which supposedly we are trying to do, I should be able to actually have effective romantic relationships (just one would be fine with me, though). However, being 6’3, large framed, educated, opinionated, not to mention (dare I say it!) a fundamentalist Christian, and that I would rather be alone than with the wrong person, and the odds of me finding someone become slim to none. So I’d be fixed, and capable, but incredible lonely, possibly, because I wouldn’t have my survival techniques anymore.

So while intellectually the thought of healing is one I see a worthwhile and valuable, I find that my heart is rather rebelling against this idea of change.

Change is hard, and scary…

How’s that for psycho-babble!

I believe...

OK, again in a rampant theft of a TV show idea, I am going to tell you what I believe. Last night on Grey’s Anatomy one character in a very heated, stressful moment started spouting off what she believed about life, herself and others in an effort to deal with some issues. I like the idea. Then there is also the great and hilarious segment at the End of Blue Collar Comedy Tour Rides Again where the four comedians list what they believe. This is a compilation of both theories. Laugh, Cry, Agree or Scream as you see fit.

I believe that parents should be held accountable for their children and children should be held responsible for their behavior.

I believe that if you say it, you mean it and if you don’t you should not have said it and if you did, you can’t take it back and pretend it was never said. You can apologize, but only if you mean it!

I believe in one God, Maker of Heaven and Earth, who sent his son, Jesus who died for our sins that we may have life everlasting and life more abundant.

I believe that you have the right to believe what you want to, and I can’t persecute you for it, but you can’t persecute me either. If you hold me in disdain, it’s a free country, I can dislike you too.

I believe that regardless of what God you believe in you do not have the right to hurt someone else just because it makes your life easier, better or you feel like it. Terrorism is not a political statement. It is simply evil.

I believe that we should tell people when we love them, even if we are afraid it won’t be returned and I believe that even if you don’t feel the same way about someone who loves you, you should still appreciate and respect the compliment for what it is.

I believe that gas happens, as do burps, sneezes and well other gaseous emissions. Why is that so hysterically funny or rude depending on who you are hanging out with?

I believe that if you emit gas, you should however say, “Excuse me!”

I believe that it is OK to go to work without makeup on. Just don’t expect people to compliment you on how your red nose brings out the circles under your eyes…

I believe that it is OK to be angry at my mother even though I forgive her and to adore my father even though he is not perfect and that both of those feelings do not mean I chose sides.

I believe it is OK to both adore my brother and think he is a moron at the same time and to not hold him to a higher standard of behavior just because he happens to be a pastor.

I believe that mothers who are well respected Christian authors should not discuss their opinions of their adult daughters on the Internet, especially if they use specifics, and they should deal with their family problems at home and not try to use the well meaning comments of people outside the situation who don’t know the whole story as justification for their bad behaviors.

I believe that putting cream in my coffee is an important source of calcium and not a frivolous use of fat and calories.

I believe that anyone who has a birthday near a major gift giving holiday (30 days either side) should have the right to select a new birth date to avoid the whole only one big present a year thing!

I believe that being a size 2 is not nearly as attractive as being a size 12, unless you were really born that size.

I believe that my doctor’s BMI chart is a hell spawned document designed to make me hate myself and I would burn the stupid thing if he would leave me alone in the office with it for more than 60 seconds!

I believe that men are stupid, but that women are crazy so we desperately need each other.

I believe that pizza is a perfectly acceptable breakfast food on Saturday Morning and calling it Italian Cheese Toast is just an attempt to make it sound like the breakfast food it is!

I believe that I am someone worth loving and have value. I believe I can sing well, cook even better and write best of all… when I let my heart go and just breathe.

I believe that Nana has always been, is and will always be a handful and I am thankful for it everyday.

I believe that dogs are better than cats and that I should not feel guilty for that!

I believe that children, when possible, should be in pairs, about 2-3 years apart.

I believe that the boy scouts, churches, schools and other programs for young people are good things run by people, who unfortunately are flawed and sometimes bad and so bad things happen, but I don’t think that makes the organization itself bad unless they planned for it to happen, didn’t stop it or somehow encouraged it.

I believe that pornography is a cancer.

I believe that two scoops are always better than one, but three is too many.

I believe that I am not finished.

I believe that there is nothing wrong with the Harry Potter books, and that people have the right to disagree with that and not let their children read them, but that they should not spend time writing books about why HP is bad. If they don’t like it, come up with something better that you do like and your children can read. I am thankful for the people that have taken that attitude and I enjoyed reading their books.

I believe that true love, the kind that lasts, that makes real marriages, is a choice you make.

I believe there will be a woman president someday, but I don’t want it to be Hilary Clinton.

I believe that as a teacher I make a difference and that someday some of my former students will be glad they knew me.

What do you believe?

V-D

When I was in high school I thought that was a really funny thing to call Valentines Day. If you are under 25 you may not understand that particular whimsy on my part, and I am not willing to enlighten you, but I’m sure the rest of you understand that case of juvenile giggles.

Personally, I think that this is a holiday invented by Hallmark to cause single people to become suicidal. Because there just wasn’t enough of that in the world already. However, I have chosen to focus on Valentine’s Day as a day about love, the overall term, and not romantic love.

I was struck yesterday by how much love is in my life when I broaden that definition. I was told I was loved by four people yesterday, and they were all serious and specific in that sentiment. The number would increase to five if I included the non-verbal behaviors of my dog. Further I told four (five with dog) people that I loved them yesterday. Seems to me my life is full of love.

The first person who said they loved me was my mom. She had surgery yesterday to have her knee replaced. This is not a minor or un-painful surgery. My relationship with my mother is fraught with issues that are sometimes just as painful, but she called me to say, that she loved me. That mattered. I love her too. That matters just as much.

The second was a dear, sweet, young lady who is a joy to know and a delight to watch. She has a valentine this year and bubbles over with the joy of that, even though she can’t be with him today. She told me she loved me, just like she always does and she means it every time, it is not a throw away thing for her to say. I love her too, and I imagine I would love her even if she didn’t tell me that she loves me, but the fact that she does means the world to me.

The third was another good friend, a terrific guy, who I probably know better than most people. He is just starting out on a new adventure with a new lady and I think there is some real potential there, though there are still things to iron out. I told him that he was a good person and he deserves to be happy. I’m not sure he has had that pointed out to him in some time if at all, which is sad, because it’s true. We often tell each other that we love each other, and that is not a light thing, for all that it is not romantic.

The last person that told me they loved me was Nana. She had heard all three of my other conversations and as I hung up on the last one she said, “Wow, you really are spreading that all over the place!” So I just laughed at her, kissed her forehead and told her, “I love you, too.” She answered, “OK, as long as I get some too you can spread it around as much as you want.” Then she kissed me goodnight and said she loved me. Then she went to bed.

I snuggled on the couch with my precious Roo (who will be 6 on the 18^th), her head on my shoulder, and drank in her soft warmth.

It is Valentine’s Day, and I may be single, but today I am loved. More important there are many that I love. I only got to speak to four yesterday, but there are many and I am hopeful that even if I have not said it to them in the last 48 hours that they know. That is why I try to be sure I tell them when we talk. That I might bless them as they have blessed me.

Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you!

The Voices Of Poetry

It is that time of year again, when my class studies poetry and I find myself thinking, dreaming, and wondering about the human condition and what makes it so real. Now I recognize that this can be a dangerous line of thought without a beret and a drum and a lot of coffee, but it happens anyway.

My class learns about Walt Whitman, Emily Dickenson, Langston Hughes, Robert Frost, William Carlos Williams, Naomi Shallob Nye and Maya Angelou. We talk about imagery, Metaphor, Simile, Rhythm and the emotion that makes the abstract painting that is poetry. A lot of kids fall asleep. But here are some, each time who sit a bit straighter and their eyes grow wide and shining and I find myself pretending that I am talking only to them.

When I am lost in their gazes I believe that poetry is not dead and that there will be music forever. Those are the children I teach for. There are fewer of them, but they are there.

Today we talked about Langston Hughes and I let the students in on my strange fascination with voices. We all have qualities that we focus on in other people, attractants of sorts. It is not a sexual thing, though it is sensual and it part of how we perceive people. Some people focus on warm smiles, or expressive eyes or graceful hands. My thing is voices.

I could spend days in a room with just James Earl Jones voice, Sean Connery’s voice, Kathleen Turner’s voice, Glen Close’s voice. Sometimes it is a particular quality that I can name, deep tones, rich, resonant, and sometimes I don’t know why I like it, I just do. There are voices that have become comforting to me. Family members, good friends, and even a couple of students who had voices that really resonated with me (no pun intended). In that case the relationship, the personality, the other things influenced my perception of the voice, but either way, the memory of the voice becomes cherished to me.

There are things I am learning about myself now, because of therapy, and because of the introspection of entering my 30’s, applying for a PhD and watching Nana finish her life (she still has a decade to go, I am sure, but there is no doubt that her life is closing). One thing is the things I have heard that I did not want to, the ugly horrible things, another is the things, like I said, that I cherish, and then there is another funny category of the things I long to hear and what I imagine they sound like.

There was a time when I imagined what it would be like to hear “I love you” from someone special. For a long time, even after I knew I would never hear it, that way, from that person, I could still hear it. I remember the day I could no longer hear it anymore. Even though I had gotten over the loss of that relationship, I suffered a new anguish at the loss of the voice, the sound, the phrase. And understand I still had a friendship with that man, and saw him regularly, hearing his voice, even hearing him say those words to someone else, but I could no longer hear my imagination anymore… Not to say that it wasn’t a good thing and about time, I am just marking the moment of final loss.

When I listen to the poets, reading their poetry, I am always struck by their voices, the feeling, cadence and tones. For some reason I end up lost in my own memories of voices, past present and future and am struck by the absences as much as what is present.

If any of this made any sense, Happy Valentine’s Day. I hope for you all your voices are happy memories!

Commited

Now I have been challenged, as in, three people have complained about my lack of blogging, and I am trying to really open myself up on some issues, so I am recommitting myself to blogging. My goal is to blog three times a week. Not my previously usual five to seven, but I believe that three may be do-able. If we are approaching the end of the week and you have only seen one, you have my permission to send me sarcastic and snotty e-mail messages reminding me of my commitment, or lack there of…

To say that this past month (January, I mean) has been hectic, stressful, wonderful, excruciating, wouldn’t cover all the possibilities, and seeing as I don’t only speak in adjectives you’ll just have to take my word for it.

The first big issue/leap is that I have begun therapy. No, this does not mean that the men in white coats finally caught me with their great big butterfly net, I decided to do this on my own, for me, because I am worth it. Of course I figured I could just go in for a couple months get a quick “mind tune-up” on be back on my merry way by Easter. Yeah, OK, any more bright ideas, Sandy?

The therapist was very nice, very polite and very to the point. It doesn’t work that way. Several metaphors come to mind, and were used, but my favorite it the splinter. If you have a particularly big, nasty, painful splinter there comes a point of decision. Pulling it out will be excruciating, the most painful thing to do, more painful than just leaving it there, where it may only hurt if you bother it and occasionally when it becomes infected. However, if you pull it out, once allowed to heal, it will never hurt again. So, being a medic, I have opted to go for the pulling route. This is the point when the therapist then warns me, “You need to know, if we dig all this stuff up, it may get worse before it gets better.” OK. Let the pain begin!

Then there is my love life. Oh wait, that’s all in my head. Or more correctly, I was worried someone who I couldn’t date had feelings for me, but he doesn’t, which is good, because I can’t date him, for lots of good reasons, only now I feel a little let down to find out that he was never really interested to begin with… Good thing I am already in therapy.

Meanwhile I have officially submitted my online application for my PhD, meaning I am now officially in the process of seeking those three stupid letters which also means I have to get off my butt and correct, type and format three writing samples highlighting my academic writing ability. This is my least favorite kind of writing and now I really have to do it.

Not to mention they took away my team teacher… who, by the way, is now pregnant with her fourth child (and she is two years younger than I am!) while her youngest is only five months, making her pregnant twice in the same school year(!)… and so I feel like my right arm has been cut off and I’ve been cut off from my best friend. Oh, wait, that’s right, there are always my boys to talk too… Yeah, the drama of camp is in full gear with intrigue, espionage, betrayal and general macho stupidity all running amok over my phone and internet!

So, as you can see, we really are all full up of crazy here. Even Nana.

Oh, Nana! Poor Nana! We have had to label every cabinet in the house. Every appliance has a set of typed directions taped to it. Honestly I think her visit with my mom seriously undermined her confidence in herself. It’s getting better, but she still does odd things and then gets frustrated. Putting her bra on backwards was one of the funniest moments I’ve had in weeks, but she was understandably upset. Also, Lindsey lets her go to the Young Professionals Sunday School Class (My class) when I am not there and Lindsey takes Nana to church, but if I am in church I want Nana to go to her own class. So then she whines about the old fuddy duddies and how all they talk about is their painful hips! Also, she keeps insisting on wrapping the dogs in blankets to keep them warm. They are shelties! With huge thick fur coats! Piper puts up with it, but Roo is really not interested in being covered and keeps hiding from Nana… It’s kind of cute, but it frustrates Nana.

Lastly the workouts are going well. I work with my trainer four days a week now and we have even added running to the whole process. My waist is changing, but not very fast and not like I’d like, though everything else is going great. It’s hard not to consider some chemical options and I haven’t decided what I’m going to do about that yet… But either way, I am making progress for all that I am tired all the time and ache perpetually.

So, that’s all for this week, but next week, three blogs by Friday at 5:00PM.

I promise!

Letter Sent Yesterday with Script

Sorry to have taken so long to post. things have been crazy busy, but to kind of sum up my activities, here is a letter I sent to two gentleman with copies of my script yesterday afternoon. Kind of sums up what's been gong on with me.

Dear Bruce and JD,

This past two months have held a very odd set of experiences for me, more importantly they were faith changing experiences. While with the exception of a very brief, very vague e-mail exchange between Bruce and myself last month, I haven’t spoken to either of you in nearly nine years, yet both of you were very much tools in the messages God had for me lately. One of the physical products of this set of experiences is a script, which I have enclosed with this letter for each of you. It is not really 100% finished (we tend to tweak as we perform it) and there are still probably some errors/typos here and there (seems like I can never find them all before final printing…) but for the most part this is what I have been learning. The reason the two of you are listed in the acknowledgements of the script is what I wanted to explain.

Nine years ago I was a youth minister at a small Southern Baptist church FL. The town was really just a glorified truck stop; wide place in the road; blink and you’ve missed it kind of town. The church was also old, and based on what I saw, stagnating. They had been though four youth ministers in less than two years and the final volunteer minister was a sweet man with a good heart but had two completely out of control teenage sons and who was over his head. Seeing as I had worked in churches before in youth and child positions, professional and volunteer, and I was pursuing a career in education (High School English) when I saw the notice on the job board at the BSU at UF, I called, interviewed and oddly enough (considering my gender and their theology) got the job. Then things really got interesting.

Bruce had spoken for a few days at UF (BSU and FCA) that May and had caused quite a few of us there to re-evaluate our direction in life… part of the reason I looked into the Youth Minister job, actually… and four of us girls drove up in June to the mission’s conference you guys sponsored (Awakenings ’98, I think?) where we met Paige Patterson and several other truly amazing individuals… (And I had to explain to Clayton, on stage, at the talent night, what a Bidet was. I can still see the look on his face…). The experience was so positive that I asked Bruce to come and speak to my group of kids at Hawthorne for our summer retreat. He did a terrific job and was a real inspiration not just to the kids, but also to the college students who had “tagged along” to help out, including my own younger brother (and now a pastor himself).

That summer I learned a lot about genuine faith, surrendering to God’s will and, well, frankly, what being a responsible grown-up really means. I really fell short on a lot of those issues. That summer ended up being pretty humbling. More importantly it made me re-examine my priorities, my faith and my direction. After the summer was over I e-mailed Bruce while he was in Russia and also JD while he was on mission as well (I believe somewhere in Eurasia, but I can’t remember). Both of you were very encouraging, but even though I’m sure he had no idea who I was, JD’s words often really challenged me. My youth had written a few letters to JD that I had transmitted over the internet, and his responses meant the world to those kids. I also still have a copy of the e-mail JD sent me when I e-mailed both of you about the fact that I was terminated as the youth minister at the church when the new head pastor was installed. It was of great comfort. Words fail to convey my meaning on that, but that’s all I can think of to explain.

When I finished grad school at UF, I went on to become an English, Journalism, Oratory and Drama teacher. After three years I moved. Up here I’ve worked with Title 1 (No Child Left Behind Act) and am now an English Teacher and Drama Coach to 9^th Graders. Also, after completing a year long night school program, I am an Emergency Medical Technician Intermediate and work with the Boy Scouts of America as the Medical Officer (there are too many capital letters in that sentence and it really sounds pompous… I just patch up teenage boys in the summer up on the mountain where they shot the movie Deliverance). Three years ago I also took over the care and responsibility of my 83 year old grandmother, Nana. Most people have children, I have a Senior Citizen; but she’s a spunky little lady and I love every minute with her. The other big part of my life brings me to and explains the reason I’m writing and the script.

Currently I attend and Alliance Church. The Alliance denomination grew out of the CMA (Christian Missionary Alliance) and is a really great group of people. Their mission focus and commitment to foreign missions is what really speaks to my heart. Three years ago, they approached me about directing a youth drama as part of their annual foreign mission conference. I jumped at the chance to serve. This year will be our fourth production. The first two years we used existing scripts about Jim Elliot and then John and Betty Stam. The third year (last year) we decided to go in a different direction (away from Martyred Missionaries) and did an adaptation of Max Lucado’s “Just the Way You Are” called “Children of the King.” While I wrote that script, it was a pretty easy process as I had Max’s amazing story to work with and could use simple language and a simple structure to go with the children’s book theme. This year we decided to work from scratch and go slightly more adult. While as an English teacher and a writer it seems like this should have also been easy, boy was I wrong on that.

The intention had been to write about two men, friends, one answering God’s call to missions and the other putting it off for “later.” While the plot and structure was decent, the dialog was consistently stilted and flat (no matter how dramatic the actors… I had some friends read to me to see if that was simply the problem) and there was no depth. Saying that I was frustrated really wouldn’t cover the emotions. While I was very confidant of the story, I just couldn’t hear the voices of the characters and I didn’t “know” them.

Then I had a dream. Normally when I dream, if I remember, which is rarely, names, faces and histories are all jumbled up. They don’t match. However, in this dream, I was at a church, to drop something off, when the kids came running out to get me. They were going on a youth retreat and they needed me to hurry up, we were late. Then they also told me we had a guest speaker, Bruce, who wanted to talk to me before we left. Bruce had the right face, the right name and the right history. The only problem was that I hadn’t planned on going on this retreat, so I was scrambling to make calls and rearrange my schedule so I could go. Then I woke up.

I hadn’t thought about Bruce in years, (nor JD) so that he would be so clear, so vivid, was rather odd to me. When I got to work, and had a free minute, I googled Bruce to see what he was up to; I even dropped him an e-mail, which he promptly replied to very warmly (which was nice considering how off the wall it was and how busy he must be). My students had a lot of book work that day and so I found myself with work time and nothing to do that minute and so I kept looking around. Thinking of Bruce caused me to look up JD too and low and behold I came across JD’s blog, online sermons by both Bruce and JD and several articles. During my planning period I began to listen to the sermons. They all addressed issues central to the issues in the play. As the day went on I began to feel energized, like there were ants under my skin (in a good way). While I couldn’t write at all that day, and trust me I tried, I found myself hearing the character’s voices. I called several trusted friends and we all began praying for my eyes and heart to be open to God’s message as we all felt this was not just a strange coincidence. That weekend I visited my father in Tallahassee. There on the wall of his Sunday School classroom was a quote from Meister Eckhart in The Way of Jesus.

The soul must long for God in order to be set aflame by God’s love; but if the soul cannot yet feel this longing, then it must long for the longing. To long for the longing is also from God.

This summed up the main character of the play perfectly. That was the last Sunday my father’s class would be in that room, the next week they were moving to a new classroom.

By Monday I was ready to write. The words just poured out. The play that was supposed to be about a man’s journey to missions became a play about a man’s journey with God. More importantly it was my journey. I found myself remembering who I was nine years ago. The lessons I was learning and the purpose God was showing me. While I had not so much “strayed” from the path in the past years, I had “forgotten” about some of the goals. In my busy-ness I was becoming complacent in my mission for God and I was withholding my gifts and talents from His purpose.

On Friday, January 19, 2007, I finished the script. This was a good thing seeing as we had already cast and begun rehearsals the week before. The kids were instrumental in helping me figure out what sounded right and what works. Having finished the script I had it printed and bound for the kids to use. In the script I included an acknowledgements page. This project ended up being so profound in experience to me that I felt I needed to publicly recognize those who affected it. I hope you two don’t mind, you are listed as well. I have enclosed a copy of the script for each of you so that you can have it (Or give it away, or burn it, or line the cat box with it… except neither of you struck me as cat people… the point was I wanted you to know). The play will be performed on Friday, February 23, 2007 at 7:30PM and the following Sunday at 3:00PM. While the multi-media portions of the play and the musical accompaniment between acts is not included in the play (and adds quite a bit to the production) I still think you can see the overall message. God used both of you in that message. Thank You!

It was good to hear from Bruce. Congratulations on your accomplishments for missions and you successful career at SEBTS. Owning your own house is a big step as well, congratulations on that too. While I haven’t spoken to JD, I was excited to see his church page and hear/see about his family. You and your wife look very happy and your daughters are beautiful. What a blessing. Having watched my father pursue his PhD, my brother pursue his M Div at Moody and in the process myself of starting my PhD, I can’t begin to say how impressed I am by both of your academic titles. Further, it was wonderful to hear you speak and see how the fire and passion are still there in your presentations as well as how much you have matured as speakers. May God continue to bless both of you and your messages of missions and God’s love as much as those messages blessed my life in the past two months (not to mention nine years ago).

Gratefully,

~Sandy

P.S. If you have read all the way through this, thank you for your time, I know you are both very busy. That is why I didn’t send this as an e-mail and attachment. Besides it took a bit to explain, sorry about the length. I just felt that you should both have a chance to see and be aware of the part that you played in this production.

Top Chef

I have really gotten into the show Top Chef. I'm a bit of a foody and I like the issue of leadership versus skill versus natural talent versus luck kind of thing. Further, with all the contestants being professionals in the same field, the show tends to be most what it is supposed to be about and less about drama… with one exception, this season. The group of chefs, forced to live together, be under constant scrutiny, with no privacy and get a bit deprived of sleep as well, have chosen to pick on a smaller, odder member of the team. While I recognize that editing is a big factor in how we perceive information, this poor kid doesn't seem to be all that big a problem. Maybe it's my experience with the boy scouts (could I tell you some stories about juvenile arrogance!) but Marcel didn't seem all that bad to me. Arrogant, yes, cocky, yes, self absorbed, yes, malicious, no, stupid, no, an actual jerk, no. He is smaller than most on the show, he has a bit of a quirky personal style, and he's definitely eccentric. Considering the contestants are all adults, I also understand why the producers did not step in on bullying issues. Let them handle their own problems, but then why did the producers include the issue at all on screen?

Last night we saw why. One contestant, a very large and strong guy, jerked the kid out of a sound sleep and man handled him, pushing him down into the carpet and holding his arms behind him. Another contestant watched and a third filmed the whole thing. While I imagine they weren't out to hurt anyone, it almost had the surreal quality of a graphic rape scene in a movie. I felt threatened and I was surprised at the composure of the kid who got grabbed. People are upset about what happened and rightly so. The big guy was asked to leave when the incident came to light.

In school today we talk a lot about the issue of bullying. I was bullied in elementary school (and yes I was the bigger kid) so I know how awful it is. I also think that a lot of people are quick to scream bully over a single event/bad day on the part of a child. It's a hard balance. However, once you leave school, things seem to really change. Our society has made it OK to slander and defame someone, all as part of being real, honest, etc. Blogs are starting to get scary, where family members beat up on other family members, friends, neighbors, collogues and give out personal information so those involved feel less safe and publicly judged.

Demons, Flies, Plays and students

Hey,

Yes, I know I've been out. Things are crazy, I can't blog at work, I have minimal dial up at home and well I can't seem to catch a break except when I'm at Kinkos on other errands...

Apparently a squirrel died in the insulation of our ceiling of our apartment. Flies laid eggs in the carcass. Now there are huge black flies pouring into the ceiling space with a few escaping here and there into the house, but they all congregate (the ones in the ceiling) inside the fluorescent light panels where they make such a buzzing racket they sound like bees. You can't sit in the living room without your skin crawling and the landlord can't get an exterminator here until Monday evening!

Mother is at it again. While she had Nana she was up to a couple of her tricks. Nana lost no money, really, but trust was abused. Further Mother managed to undermine Nana's confidence, slip into destructive behavior patterns with me and this afternoon... She called to tell me that her therapist pointed out to her how aberrant some of her parental behaviors were with me. OK. Good. Glad she learned, see that, etc. Then she went on to point out that the therapist also thinks I have the behaviors too... I learned them from mother. I've never met mother's therapist by the by, so how she can diagnose me from 700 miles away, who knows... but saying that I'm a little angry, frustrated, mortified, disgusted would not cover it.

We are starting our mission play for the church. This year I am working from scratch, writing, directing, producing. This is hard! Tonight are the final auditions with rehearsals starting Sunday...

My classes this semester are better. The kids are getting the message, but a few are still... to use my mother's new favorite word... aberrant. We'll see how it goes.

Hope everyone is well. Oddly enough, I am.