Also, I got this bear today. It's almost as cute as the man who gave it to me.
Nov 7, 2012
The Joys of Camera Phones
I feel like the last page of the syllabus doesn't exist in my life. Every year about this time classes flip to that last back page of the syllabus where the final projects, research papers and final exams are due; however, this time unfortunately coincides with a complete lack of effs given for homework. This week I had/have several projects due, and I have not done (or done at all) a fantastic job on them. I took some rejuvenation time tonight in hopes of getting back into the swing of school. Therefore, tonight I am thankful for this building and what it stands for, and the opportunity I had to sit and enjoy its beauty.
Nov 5, 2012
Jumping on the Bandwagon
Today did not start off with a bang. First, if I die soon it will be because the mountain of laundry in my bedroom has crushed me. Please, someone come dig me out and give me some purple flowers for my funeral death by laundry. That being understood, my selections for a dress were limited today. I tried on three or four before I finally settled on one, but I still felt blah. Second, Relief Society focused on modesty, which is a great topic, but an hour of discussing body image left me even more blah. However, I am first and foremost thankful for a wonderful boyfriend who will tell me I am absolutely beautiful. My hair wasn't curled, I wasn't wearing heels and after church I changed into a pair of comfy sweats, but for some reason he still loves me, and nothing can make me feel as non-blah as he can.
I'm also thankful for Fast Sunday. First, testimony meeting was inspired. Almost everyone, if not all, spoke about temples and the importance of attending them. It was a very sweet reminder why we have them, why we go and why it is important to me to go. Also, fast Sunday provided an opportunity to fast with purpose today.
I'm also thankful for these boys. Growing up with sisters was great; it meant if you couldn't find a shirt of your own to wear, you always had your sister's closet. It meant if you ran out of mascara you could always borrow another. It meant lots of hair ties, hair in the brushes, hair in the drain, hair on the shower wall, hair on the bathroom cupboard, hair on the carpet, and hair everywhere. It meant lots of shoes, and jewelry, lots of prom dresses and crushes. However, it didn't mean video games, football, that man smell or as many jokes about anatomy. I'll take the video games, football and jokes anytime now...the smell, well, I plead the fifth on that one.
Lastly, I'm thankful for blankets and pillows or two or three blankets, two pillows, one body pillow and a jacket. I love being warm and snuggly in my bed that has two homemade blankets from my mom, one fuzzy that I have to sleep with, pillows keeping a strong barrier between me and any hard or cold wall, and that warm jacket that puts me to sleep so well.
I'm also thankful for Fast Sunday. First, testimony meeting was inspired. Almost everyone, if not all, spoke about temples and the importance of attending them. It was a very sweet reminder why we have them, why we go and why it is important to me to go. Also, fast Sunday provided an opportunity to fast with purpose today.
I'm also thankful for these boys. Growing up with sisters was great; it meant if you couldn't find a shirt of your own to wear, you always had your sister's closet. It meant if you ran out of mascara you could always borrow another. It meant lots of hair ties, hair in the brushes, hair in the drain, hair on the shower wall, hair on the bathroom cupboard, hair on the carpet, and hair everywhere. It meant lots of shoes, and jewelry, lots of prom dresses and crushes. However, it didn't mean video games, football, that man smell or as many jokes about anatomy. I'll take the video games, football and jokes anytime now...the smell, well, I plead the fifth on that one.
Lastly, I'm thankful for blankets and pillows or two or three blankets, two pillows, one body pillow and a jacket. I love being warm and snuggly in my bed that has two homemade blankets from my mom, one fuzzy that I have to sleep with, pillows keeping a strong barrier between me and any hard or cold wall, and that warm jacket that puts me to sleep so well.
Nov 3, 2012
It Doesn't Get Much Better
This is my Saturday night, and to be honest, I really do love it.
They better enjoy their football, because after we are watching The Proposal per my request, and they will love it too! :)
Oct 30, 2012
Tougher Shells
I was talking to my sister tonight, and, probably completely unbeknown to her, I had an epiphany.
Today I had a mini emotional melt down. It was 15 minutes before my Shakespeare class, and I pulled my car into what seemed to be the last parking spot on campus. I sat there for a second, laid my seat back and just silently cried. It wasn't a sob party or a "good cry" but it was just silent tears that slide down my temples and became lost in my hair. Almost exactly two minutes later, I sat my seat up, grabbed my back pack and stepped out into the abyss of cars and people who had no idea that I'd just cried for a whopping two whole minutes in the drivers seat of my car.
On a totally unrelated note to that story, my sister said I needed a tougher shell. She didn't say this condescendingly, jokingly or harshly, but just a passing comment. Tougher? Tougher?! Honestly, I don't even like to shake hands with most people; how can I be tougher? But, she's right. And I realized that tonight.
I need to stop crying. I wouldn't call myself the emotional roller coaster that some girls can be, but I, like the previous story showed, I can cry for a couple minutes over money, school, no parking spots. homework, dirty laundry or a low battery on my lap top right before class. I also cry when I give my shot. I've decided this needs to stop. The latter I mean, sorry to anyone who became all hopeful over the new resolution to obliterate tears over parking. :) Lately, I've been able to take my shot if I had help. That help came in several forms ranging from the security of a hug to a simple picture or a text message. Tonight though I've decided to stop relying on that help. I can do this without needing the help, because sometimes there is no help, and that is not an excuse to stop.
Guess what...I wrote this post and didn't even cry. That's progress, right??
Today I had a mini emotional melt down. It was 15 minutes before my Shakespeare class, and I pulled my car into what seemed to be the last parking spot on campus. I sat there for a second, laid my seat back and just silently cried. It wasn't a sob party or a "good cry" but it was just silent tears that slide down my temples and became lost in my hair. Almost exactly two minutes later, I sat my seat up, grabbed my back pack and stepped out into the abyss of cars and people who had no idea that I'd just cried for a whopping two whole minutes in the drivers seat of my car.
On a totally unrelated note to that story, my sister said I needed a tougher shell. She didn't say this condescendingly, jokingly or harshly, but just a passing comment. Tougher? Tougher?! Honestly, I don't even like to shake hands with most people; how can I be tougher? But, she's right. And I realized that tonight.
I need to stop crying. I wouldn't call myself the emotional roller coaster that some girls can be, but I, like the previous story showed, I can cry for a couple minutes over money, school, no parking spots. homework, dirty laundry or a low battery on my lap top right before class. I also cry when I give my shot. I've decided this needs to stop. The latter I mean, sorry to anyone who became all hopeful over the new resolution to obliterate tears over parking. :) Lately, I've been able to take my shot if I had help. That help came in several forms ranging from the security of a hug to a simple picture or a text message. Tonight though I've decided to stop relying on that help. I can do this without needing the help, because sometimes there is no help, and that is not an excuse to stop.
Guess what...I wrote this post and didn't even cry. That's progress, right??
In case you wanted to know the parts of a turtle shell.
Oct 24, 2012
Barley There
Tonight I register for my 12th semester of my college career. 12..I know, and I'm not even done til I register for my 14th semester. It has been a long road, but my dream hasn't changed for years. I remember in first grade Mrs Stucki asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I froze, and with knocking knees and a head swimming with wordless thoughts, I spluttered that I wanted to be a Post Office person like my mom. That wasn't true, but I loved my mom and wanted to be like her, so that was my default answer. Until about three years later when I fell in love. I savored the taste the word "coon dog" left in my mouth as I came to know where exactly the red fern grows. I didn't know I could be so happy until I met Harry, Ron and Hermione; little did I know the journey that would take me on. I learned to be grateful for the people in my life by reading about the hells Jane Eyre lived through. I remember sitting "my carcass" in my desk in Mrs Pugmire's class and thinking I want to read The Wind in the Willows forever. Every since then I've wanted to study English, and it wasn't till my perspective on people, race, love and hate was revolutionized during a class discussion of To Kill a Mockingbird that I knew I wanted to teach others about acceptance, love, siblings and differences between people. Years later I watched Jenny, a 9th grader straight from Africa who was learning a new language, school, family and culture, explain that Esperanza from The House on Mango Street gave her hope that she can still be African and American. For the past 13 years all I've wanted to do is teach English to a bunch of teenagers because I love the literature, and I love the kids.
Yes, it has taken me a while to get through school, and I still have a ways to go, but I'm proud of my desire to teach. Tonight, I didn't feel so proud though. During a shamefully embarrassing discussion of math where I tried to multiply 9X9 to equal 89 and then 8X8 magically equaled 36 in my mind, I explained that I may not be able to multiply but I can write a pretty poem about math. Overhearing this conversation, a bystander responded: That won't put food in your mouth. I defended my love by simply saying that you can make a living by teaching. The response: Barely.
Ouch.
Don't misunderstand, these comments were not made with malicious intent, but quite honestly it made me sad. The average salary for a teacher is 34,000$--chump change to some--which is 50,000$ less than he'll be making but does that make my career choice of lesser value? I could one day be teaching his future children! A career that seems to be barely a career is entrusted with the future children, but here it is just barely a career.
I don't have presentations about venture capitalists, and I am not sought after for internships that pay three times my future salary, but that doesn't mean I will have any less of a career. In fact, I'll teach the children of those venture capitalists about racism, love, death and God, so before you scorn my future, you better understand that I am not studying to be rich--I'm studying to do what I love and have loved since my dad first read to me the heart wrenching story of a boy and his two dogs.
Sincerly,
your child's future teacher
Yes, it has taken me a while to get through school, and I still have a ways to go, but I'm proud of my desire to teach. Tonight, I didn't feel so proud though. During a shamefully embarrassing discussion of math where I tried to multiply 9X9 to equal 89 and then 8X8 magically equaled 36 in my mind, I explained that I may not be able to multiply but I can write a pretty poem about math. Overhearing this conversation, a bystander responded: That won't put food in your mouth. I defended my love by simply saying that you can make a living by teaching. The response: Barely.
Ouch.
Don't misunderstand, these comments were not made with malicious intent, but quite honestly it made me sad. The average salary for a teacher is 34,000$--chump change to some--which is 50,000$ less than he'll be making but does that make my career choice of lesser value? I could one day be teaching his future children! A career that seems to be barely a career is entrusted with the future children, but here it is just barely a career.
I don't have presentations about venture capitalists, and I am not sought after for internships that pay three times my future salary, but that doesn't mean I will have any less of a career. In fact, I'll teach the children of those venture capitalists about racism, love, death and God, so before you scorn my future, you better understand that I am not studying to be rich--I'm studying to do what I love and have loved since my dad first read to me the heart wrenching story of a boy and his two dogs.
Sincerly,
your child's future teacher
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