Mail Time

I just finished reading the first four books in Ally Carter's Gallagher Girls series. They are books written for tweens about girls who go to a special school where they learn to be spies. There is a part in them where one of their teachers tells them that you can learn a lot about a person by going through their trash. This is true...see my old post about my garbage spilling in the road and my neighbor coming to the rescue. But, I also think you can tell a lot about a person from their mail. To illustrate, here are two examples from my life:

1) Yesterday, my roommate came walking inside with the mail. She looked at me and said, "Let's look at this...you got an issue of English Journal and some other thing called Voices from the Middle (a magazine for middle school language arts teachers). My mail...Victoria's Secret catalog, Alloy catalog."

2) We usually get two types of packages at our house. Sometimes, they will arrive on the same day. On those days, there will be two boxes on our porch. One for me from Amazon.com and one for my roommate from Victoria's Secret (she get actual clothes from there--like shirts, shoes, and stuff). To further illustrate this, today I got not one but two packages from Amazon--one was a biography on Pablo Neruda (a poet) written for kids; the other was a book called, I kid you not, The Glamour of Grammar.

Guess which one of us has a boyfriend?

Turn My Swag On

I was informed today by an 8th grade student that I have "swagger." I told him that since I'm a 26-year-old white woman, I didn't really think that I could ever truly have any kind of swagger. He then went on to tell me that I do--it's apparently all about my attitude. I had no idea I was this awesome. Kind of impressed with myself right now....except for the fact that I just finished the end of a fabulous British chick lit series (Hester Browne's Little Lady Agency) in the bathtub while drinking a glass of red wine (because they are the kind of books that put their foot down, put their hands on their hips, and loudly demand to be read in a bubble bath) and am currently watching an episode of The Rachel Zoe Project. All of which I deem to be rather unswagworthy.

But apparently it doesn't matter what I'm doing because I do it with the right attitude.

Random Musings

Usually I have a few random thoughts and observations that never make it to my blog because I can't write an entire post about them. So, I have decided to start randomly posting some random musings. This is also due to the fact that I really like the word musings and wanted an excuse to use it on a somewhat regular basis.

1) Last weekend, I went to Atlanta to visit my roommate from college and go to the LSU v. UNC game (even though we didn't go to LSU or UNC--we just like football and someone offered us tickets). It also happened to be the weekend of DragonCon in Atlanta. DragonCon is a big science fiction/fantasy conference. The people who go to DragonCon dress up. I'm not sure what they dress up like, but I do know I saw Batman, Captain America, Harry Potter, Dumbledore, Dracula, plus a bunch of other people who I didn't recognize at all. I just knew normal people didn't dress like that. My old roommate and I met her parents for dinner at Hard Rock in Atlanta. The restaurant was full of people dressed up for DragonCon or wearing LSU or UNC gear. I spent the whole time thinking about how weird all those DragonCon people were in their costumes. Then, the more I thought about it, the more I thought that the DragonCon people probably all thought that the football fans looked ridiculous. I mean, we football fans (especially in the South) dress up, spend our whole Saturday getting ready and going to games, yell a lot when we get there, and refer to our teams as "we" even though we're not playing. It's really its own brand of weird--and who's to judge whether it's any weirder than the DragonCon bunch.

2) I'm currently having a tv crisis because I cannot watch three channels at once. People who schedule sporting events should be forced to take this into consideration. I mean, right now, I want to be watching Nadal's quarterfinals match at the US Open, the Auburn v. Mississippi State game, and the Saints v. Vikings game (because I started Drew Brees and Adrian Peterson in my school fantasy league this week--so every time Drew Brees completes a pass I feel compelled to yell "Points for me!"). I got a little stressed when I had to make this decision. I know that some people can do that flip-back-and-forth-a-lot-thing, but I have to pick one main event to focus on then just check scores during commercials and stuff. I finally ended up with tennis as my main event. Then I started to panic. Does it make me less Southern that I opted against the SEC match-up? Am I somehow less American because I'm watching the all-Spanish quarterfinals match instead of football??

3) I have issues of Sports Illustrated in my room for students to read--they can get it from our library, so I don't worry about the content (except for obviously I don't keep the Swimsuit Issue in there....). Today, a student came up to me and showed me an article about the college lacrosse player who was killed by her boyfriend this summer. I had heard the story, so I just told him I already knew about it and agreed that it was really sad. Then, the same kid brought the magazine back to me, very concerned, and told me that I might not want to have it in my room because it was inappropriate. He was holding out a page with an ad for Viagra on it. Ok, so that's inappropriate, but the article about murder you don't have a problem with? Hmmm. Maybe those people who argue all the time that violent video games desensitize kids and are bad for them have a real point....

4) I recently took a recommendation from a student and read the Gallagher Girls series by Ally Carter. They were adorable. All week as I read, I would talk with my student about them. The main character is 15 (she turns 16 in the books), and her dad died sometime before the books start. So, her mom is single and is also the headmistress at the spy school. In the first book, they get a new, cute, guy teacher. So, I say to my student, "I kind of want Cammie's mom to date Mr. Solomon." She just looked at me like I had said the strangest, most random thing ever. Yeah, her response was that was weird and that she had never really thought about it. That's when I realized that I'm kind of old--I identify with the mom in the story, and I think about the mom falling in love with someone. Because I'm closer in age to the mom than I am the main character of the book. I proceeded to feel old for all of lunch and recess.

Fake Fall

It was well documented here that I read The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud this summer. And loved it. But, even though I'm about to use another quote from it, this post isn't about the book. I promise.

Anyway, there's this whole scene in the book where one of the characters talks with another one of the characters about how people who have died can still find ways to pseudo-interact with people who are still alive. (And yes, I'm leaving out their names because I think everyone should read the book and I don't want to give anything away.) Then, in the afterword, there's this rather beautiful quote:

"That's death and life, you see. We all shine on. You just have to release your hearts, alert your senses, and pay attention. A leaf, a star, a song, a laugh. Notice the little things, because somebody is reaching out to you. Qualcuno ti ama. Somebody loves you."

I love fall. It is my favorite season. Anyone who lives in the South knows all about how we have a season that I like to call "fake fall." The mornings will be a little chilly, but by noon it is really hot. It's like fall is a really cute boy and mornings are his way of flirting with you. But 90 degree afternoons remind you that he's really being elusive and playing hard to get. While "fake fall" can be annoying, I love it because "fake fall" mornings embody a certain hope that days not defined by oppressive heat are getting close.

Identifying a "fake fall" morning is quite easy. Any Southerner knows you have to leave your air conditioner on during "fake fall" unless you want to be really warm in your house when you get home from work. This results in your bedroom being a tad on the cold side when you wake up in the mornings. Not so cold that you don't want to get up, but cold enough to justify snuggling down and hitting snooze one extra time. Some people might find this annoying, but I love it--for the same reason I mentioned earlier, it lets me know real fall is close.

This morning when I woke up I was cold. The chill in the air of my room brought a huge smile to my face as I snuggled deeper into bed and welcomed "fake fall." The welcoming was confirmed minutes later when I checked the thermostat in my house and it read 68. I got really excited, did a little dance by my bed, and thanked Jesus for the cool morning, which, since it was the first one of the year, totally made my day. The first morning of "fake fall"--along with the fact that my school had scheduled my students for MAPS testing today (which meant I got to read a book all day!)--meant I left my house for school in a remarkably good mood.

It wasn't until I got to school and was writing a pass for a student that I realized that today is September 8th. My dad's birthday.

I'm not entirely sure how theologically I'm supposed to think about the whole Charlie-St.-Cloud-dead-people-pseudo-interacting-with-alive-people thing, but I know that I like to think it's true. That it happens. When I realized today was my dad's birthday, I know I felt like "fake fall" happened today just for me. That it was his way, his little thing, to tell me he loves me. And it made me remember that if I ever feel alone, I really shouldn't. Because my dad's still with me. And he's also with my Heavenly dad--I think secretly plotting ways to make me remember that they're around and that they love me--enough to start a new season, which in my book is kind of a lot.

Back to School

I went back to school last week, but my new kids came on Thursday! For those of you who aren't teachers, the week before students come is spent in a lot of meetings, which for me means being around adults all day long....even though I love the people I work with, I kind of like being with students more than I like being with adults. I know it sounds super weird, but I think it's because God made me to be a teacher so when I'm not with students there is some part of me that feels like I'm not doing what I was made to do.

I didn't really feel like a purposeless wanderer for the first half of the summer--probably because I was so exhausted from last year--but by mid-July I couldn't wait to go back to school. Thursday as I was driving home from my first day with students, I couldn't help but notice that I felt like myself for the first time in a while. It was like I had been wearing a pair of shoes that was just a little too small and had just taken them off and put on a really comfortable pair instead. Or like I had been holding my breath for a little too long and had finally let it out and taken in a big gulp of fresh air. It was a great feeling. I'm glad to be back to my 12-year-old-filled days.

My Brother-in-Law...

is cool. I like him.

And one time, when we asked my little brother who his favorite sister was (because he does have 4 sisters) he responded not with any of our names but rather with the name of our brother-in-law.

Thanks in Japanese

My step-sister's boyfriend pretty convincingly falls into the category of great guy. They came over to my mom's house tonight, and the poor guy was immediately drafted to play my little brother's odd version of indoor hockey using golf clubs and then skateboard. So, I'm sure he was feeling a little relieved when my brother's bedtime arrived. He really shouldn't have.

He's Japanese, so whenever we hang out I ask him all sorts of Japanese questions. Basically, I quiz him on all kinds of Japanese stereotypes and get him to teach me Japanese words. I turn into this crazy person who just wants to learn all about Japan but who asks only the most obvious and ridiculous questions. Tonight, after making him tell me some Japanese kids' stories, I made him teach me how to make a paper crane. Seriously. He taught me how to make a paper crane. Because I apparently live in some stereotypical universe. His was awesome....mine has a slightly deformed body. And apparently, there is a real version and an "Americanized" version. Don't worry, ours were the legitimate Japanese ones.

Anyway, I feel like since he graciously puts up with my "How do you say _______ in Japanese" inquiries and taught me the ancient art of paper folding, he deserved a public thank you. So thanks.

How do you say that in Japanese?

Books and Why I Like Them

I get asked all the time why I like books so much. Usually by my students. I give them the typical answer about how books let you see the world from a different point of view, visit places you've never been, feel things you haven't felt, get to know characters (and, with really good books, get to know something new about yourself), examine some aspect of human nature. All those things are true. All those are reasons why I like books. But they're not really why I love them. I love them because words, when they're put together the right way, take my breath away. They make me see how beautiful the world can be. It sounds ridiculous, but it's true.

For my mom, two of the things that do that for her are wild flowers and sunsets. When I was a kid, I remember many times when my mom would make my dad pull the car over so she could get out and take a picture of a flower she saw growing on the side of the road. It became a huge joke for me and my sisters. But now, when I read a really great sentence or paragraph, I think I know exactly how my mom felt. I think God uses books to bless me. He knows that when He created me, He gave me a crazy love for the written word. And when He created some other people, He gave them this amazing ability to craft the written word. And He somehow manages to make sure the things they write using their gifts make it into my hands because He knows it's just going to make me really happy. Every time I read a really good book--the kind of book with sentences that I want to curl up with, to live inside (and this is actually how I describe them--ask people who know me, and chances are they have heard me say at least once that "I want to live in this sentence")--it's like a small gift from God, given for no other reason than that He loves me and likes to see me smile...and He knows that a well-crafted sentence is a sure fire way to make that happen.

They come in different types--some are like pieces of candy, quick and delicious, and they put a little jump in your step. Some are like really fabulous gourmet food that you want to eat slowly and savor down to the very last bite. But, every once in a while, I stumble across a truly great batch of sentences. I find the kind of book that wraps itself around me like a really fabulous blanket and manages to warm me down to the depths of my book-loving soul. Usually it's when a writer somehow manages to put into words something I never could. For me, it's how it feels to have lost my dad when I was 12.

People ask me all the time what that was like, what it's still like. I try and give them an answer, but I've never really been satisfied with what I tell them. I think the closest I've ever come was saying it made me feel like a sailor (one from a really long time ago, from before the days of navigational instruments) would feel if he were out at night and the North Star suddenly disappeared from the sky--really scared, really alone, and like nothing made sense or was ever going to be right again. (If I'm being honest, I was pretty proud of that particular comparison....) It also made me feel like I was someone who was always going to be really misunderstood because no one knew what it felt like. So, whenever I find a book that manages to articulate for real what it feels like to lose someone, it makes me feel oddly unalone, like maybe what I feel sometimes doesn't make me strange, like maybe what I feel is normal. And that's comforting.

Because I've actually had people ask me if I ever found books that I thought painted an authentic picture of losing a parent, here's the very short list that I give as an answer: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer; Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life by Wendy Mass; and the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling. (I know...how could a bunch of books about magic be authentic, but trust me, if you're a kid who has lost a parent, I really believe the way Rowling describes how Harry feels about his parents will feel right on point to you...how it stays with you in this oddly defining kind of way and always leaves you feeling like you're missing something.)

It had been a few years since I had found one of these books, but I just finished what I think just might be the best one yet. As previously blogged, I started reading The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud. It's a fantastic gem of a book that I highly recommend--especially if you want to see the movie. Read it first. Anyway, if you've heard of the book or seen the preview for the movie, you know that Charlie's younger brother dies (it happens at the beginning, so I'm not ruining anything). There's a scene in the book when he's talking to Tess (the sailor girl), and she asks him what he misses the most about his brother. Here's his answer:

Most of all...I miss that feeling when you go to sleep at night and when you wake up in the morning. It's the feeling that everything is all right in the world. You know, that amazing feeling that you're whole, that you've got everything you want, that you aren't missing anything. Sometimes when I wake up, I get it just for a moment. It lasts a few seconds, but then I remember what happened, and how nothing has been the same since....Some days are better than others....It feels like it's gone, and I'm just like everyone else. Then, without warning, it comes back and lodges in my mind. That's when I don't feel right being around anyone....I guess I never really know when it'll hit me....

These are words I want to live in...because for the first time, it felt like someone perfectly said exactly how I feel. That's why I love books. Because when they're done right, you get those moments--the ones where you feel like someone made sense of your world, the ones where you don't feel so alone.

(And, in case anyone was wondering, going to see Charlie St. Cloud has brought me out of my mini-existential crisis brought on earlier in the summer when I saw Eclipse--the one where for the first time I actually liked a movie better than a book. I can say, without a doubt, that in the case of Charlie St. Cloud, the book is infinitely better. The movie's good, but it's not even close to the book. I have decided that it's because I love Ben Sherwood's writing; I want to curl up and live in his book. In The Death and Life of Charlie St. Cloud, I love the writing and the story. But, I've never been the biggest fan of Stephanie Meyer's style (she uses too many dashes and Edward's eyes always smolder). With the Twilight books I mainly just get into the story, so when they become movies, my favorite part is still there. That's not the case with most book movies--I lose the writing, which is usually my favorite thing. I feel much better having solved this problem.)

(And before anyone points out that I use dashes a lot, let me just clarify that Stephanie Meyer uses them in places where I feel commas would be more than sufficient, and that makes me feel like the flow of the writing gets needlessly interrupted. When I use a dash, I feel like there needs to be a rather significant pause.)

Feeling Lucky/Why I Like Google

I am a pretty quirky person. I love my quirky habits and really appreciate the quirky habits of others. My little sister, for example, has this habit of IMDBing every person even remotely involved in whatever television show or movie she is watching. By the end of the movie or episode, she will be able to tell you everyone's life story, birthday, and talk about everything else they have ever been in. It's not just the actors--she does writers, directors, everyone. Plus, she can talk to you about what just happened on the screen. It really is an amazing display of multitasking. And if you don't believe me (and you know her and her phone number), call her right now and ask her to tell you anything about anyone ever associated with One Tree Hill. You will be amazed.

I called her tonight (because I was upset about reading the Charlie St. Cloud book), and she told me she had made a rather amazing discovery. She had Googled some actor and hit the "I'm Feeling Lucky" button, and it took her right to the actor's IMDB page. This was very exciting because it basically removes a step from her IMDBing process. Given the amount of IMDBing she does, this is a potentially huge discovery.

She did some tests and discovered that it doesn't work for everyone, but it does work for most people. Because I'm a good sister, I decided to help her with her research. So, over the phone, we started naming and I'm-Feeling-Lucky Googling celebrities. Generally, it's going to take you to either their IMDB (Brad Pitt and Wentworth Miller) or to their Wikipedia (Tina Fey and Drew Brees), which is also a useful tool but not the first choice of my sister.

We're in the middle of our research, and she suggests we try it with Henry Cavill. If you don't know who that is, do this:

1) Open a new tab in your internet browser

2) Do a Google image search for Henry Cavill

3) Look at the results

4) Read this: You are welcome.

Other than the newly found straight to IMDB thing, my favorite thing about Google is how it tries to autocomplete your search for you. When you start typing something in, you get a whole list of things other people have Googled. As I was typing in Henry Cavill for the great I'm-Feeling-Lucky experiment, the first search that came up after his name was "Henry Cavill Girlfriend." For whatever reason, I clicked on it. Then I scrolled down to the bottom of the page where one of my other favorite things about Google happens to live--the list of "searches related to" whatever you just searched. (Ok, first, I read some of the links...apparently he doesn't have a girlfriend right now....) This list contained maybe my favorite thing of the day (other than discovering the BBC America show The Choir, which I'm sure will be fully-blogged at another time). Here's the list--see if you can find the thing that doesn't belong:

Henry Cavill Married

Robert Pattinson Girlfriend

Steven Strait Girlfriend

Jonathan Rhys Meyers Girlfriend

Edward Cullen Girlfriend

Jared Padelecki Girlfriend

Who in the world is Googling "Edward Cullen Girlfriend"? First of all, he's a fictional character. And even in fiction, he's not a real boy. Second of all, everyone knows his girlfriend is Bella Swan.

In case you were wondering, if you I'm-Feeling-Lucky Google "Edward Cullen Girlfriend," you get taken to a site with a quiz entitled "Could You Be Edward Cullen's Girlfriend?" In case you were wondering, I could. Maybe that's my problem...I've been looking for real guys.

Crying St. Crier

So I vowed not to go see the movie Charlie St. Cloud because the preview alone makes me really upset. Probably because I am obsessed with my younger siblings, and I can't even imagine how I would feel if something bad happened to them (note, I would be upset if something happened to my big sister too, but in the movie it's his little brother so I felt like that was a more appropriate comparison). Even though I think Zac Efron is just adorable, it's still not enough to make me think I could ever make it through the movie without turning into a puddle.

Anyway, a friend of mine told me today that it's a book, which I didn't know. (Perhaps somewhere deep in my soul I did, and this is why I knew I couldn't see the movie due to my rule about not seeing movies whose books I haven't read.) She told me it was good. I told her there was no way I could read it because the preview for the movie makes me really upset. She told me that once I started reading the book and figured out what was going on, she didn't think it would really upset me that much.

Well, according to my Kindle, I'm 10% done. I've cried twice. Twice. Two times.

Other than the crying, I am rather enjoying it though.

A Post About Not Posting

It has been brought to my attention that a few people are very sad because I have not posted anything on my blog lately. I'm sorry to have caused you distress. Now I feel the need to explain. All I've done this summer is take online classes to finish getting my teacher certification. Basically all I do is wake up, read materials for my classes, and do work for my classes. And I didn't think anyone would care to read about content methods, reading strategies, and classroom management theories. It's really not that interesting.

The only other thing I've really done is binge on Netflix because when I finish my schoolwork, I'm too tired to really do anything that requires actual work and watching tv shows online falls into the category of things that do not require actual work. This is not that interesting either, but to satisfy a certain someone who misses my blogs, here are some random observations from my summer...including another embarrassing Prison Break confession. (And by "random observations" I mean stupid things I have done and should be so embarrassed about that I never tell anyone...but a few years ago I went to counseling and now have no problem admitting embarrassing things about myself. Probably bad for me. But fun for you dear readers.)

1) I watched all four seasons of Prison Break, and I cried at the end. And not I cried like I shed a few tears. I was sobbing on my couch for probably 15 to 20 minutes. The loud kind of sobs that make your body shake and are kind of annoying. Thankfully my roommate wasn't home. (She has an uncanny ability to be out of the house whenever I have pop culture related breakdowns--like when I read The Time Traveler's Wife and cried for about two hours or when I cried this season during The Bachelorette when Chris L. talked about his mom's funeral.) I also diagnosed my little sister with the same psychological condition as the show's main character, but don't you worry, I looked it up on Wikipedia to make sure it was real before I told her I think she has it.

2) I also watched Weeds. This show falls into the category with Dexter--the one where someone is doing something bad (in this case dealing drugs and being a really bad mom, not killing people) but as a viewer you like them anyway. It must be a Showtime thing because I feel like the same principle applied to certain characters on The Tudors, which is the only other Showtime show I've watched.

3) I, like many other American ladies, always swear I'm not watching The Bachelor/Bachelorette but end up watching it anyway, so I've seen pretty much every season (except for the one on when I lived in Russia). I have to say that Ali is my favorite Bachelorette of all time, and I think that she and Roberto are quite cute. Also, I think they would have pretty babies, so I hope they get married.

4) I saw Eclipse four times. There was one time when I saw it twice in one day (there is a justification for this, but it's too long to post right now). So next time you hear me saying, "Why am I still single?" you are free to reply with "You saw the third Twilight movie four times--twice in one day." I will not fight with you. I will take this as a perfectly acceptable answer.

5) Kids change the entire dynamic of family vacation. I have a little brother who is six-and-a-half. My family went to the beach for a week. We played putt-putt three times. My mom and older sister actually went four times. It was like this--go to dinner and my brother naturally assumed putt-putt came after. My family was like two high schoolers on a date. Also, I'm not very good at putt-putt. My mom on the other hand came out of nowhere and wowed my sisters and me with her mad putt-putt skills.

6) While I was at the beach, I went to an antique store where I bought a bracelet made out of a fork. I know it sounds like the weirdest thing ever, but I saw it and just had to have it. I mean, how many people do you know who have a bracelet made out of a fork? Now you know one. You're welcome for that.

I hope that's enough to satisfy anyone's cravings for insight into my mundane life. Take heart, school is about to start, so my life is about to get crazy again! Enjoy the last few days of summer.

TV-Induced Paranoia

This has nothing to do with anything else that is coming up in this post, but I'm watching The Bachelorette right now and just feel like I need to officially say somewhere that I'm kind of obsessed with Chris L. I basically think he's awesome. And, I'm not afraid to admit that on the episode when he talked about his mom's funeral I cried. Kind of a lot. After last week's episode, I kind of wanted to move to Cape Cod.

Back to the point. As previously blogged, I have recently discovered I have a slight bend towards the irrational. And I have apparently stopped being embarrassed about it. In light of those two things, here's the story of what just happened to me.

I've been watching Prison Break. Before I go any farther, I need to say that, other than speeding, I haven't been breaking any laws, and I most certainly am not a convicted felon who has recently escaped from prison and is now running from the law. Nor do I think that I am somehow, against my will and knowledge, a key part of some giant government conspiracy. I know these things, but that didn't stop me from getting freaked out on my drive home from Bible study tonight.

A friend rode with me, so I stopped at the grocery store on the way home to drop her back off at her car. When I was leaving the parking lot, a blue Honda that had just been sitting there in the parking lot pulled out in front of me. For no justifiable reason, this freaked me out.

I tried to calm myself down by reminding myself of the previously mentioned facts that I'm not on the run or involved in a conspiracy.

But then, as I turned down a lovely little country road (I live kind of in the middle of nowhere, so I have to drive down lots of little country roads to get home), there was a car just sitting on a side road--with it's lights on, just sitting there. I thought that after I passed it would turn. But it didn't. It just sat there. Now, on this particular road at this time of night (it was around 10:00) I have actually just stopped to send a text because there are never any other cars and texting while driving is an unsafe no-no. So, I have literally sat there just like this car is doing. Do I think this? No. As I drive by and the car doesn't turn, all I can think of is that the people in this car know the people in the grocery store car and they are sitting there with a phone or radio or something letting someone up ahead know that I'm almost there--to some random place where they are going to try and make me pull over or run off the road so they can do something strange with me. Seriously, I had this thought. Seriously, my heart started pounding. And yes, stop reading now to mock me. And yes, I'm very ashamed of myself and embarrassed.

This incident, in combination with the fact that my Netflix homepage has now started recommending titles to me in categories such as "Violent Dramas" and "Violent Suspenseful TV Dramas," makes me think that perhaps I should not be binge-watching Prison Break.

On a final unrelated note: Bible Study Girls--Frank, the guy who just said on The Bachelorette that falling in love with Ali made him fall back in love with his ex-girlfriend, totally rocks the deep-V. I'm just saying. He also wears shirts with buttons.

If Life Were a TV Show....

One great thing about summer and Netflix is the ability to watch large amounts of tv shows in their entirety. For example, I've watched the first five seasons of Rescue Me and the first two seasons of Prison Break. I should probably be embarrassed by this, but I'm not. Although I do feel the need to add that I just finished two graduate classes and am starting a new one tomorrow--so I have actually done something productive. But, back to the point, all the tv watching has lead to me compiling a list of reasons why it would be kind of cool to live life in a tv show.

1) If you're ever in a situation where you need to hit someone with something, a heavy tool or pipe is always readily available.

2) After the previously mentioned fight, where you probably destroy someone else's property and possible even blow something up, you never end up having to pay damages.

3) If the need arises and a gun is available, you know exactly how to use it. No matter what kind of gun it is and no matter what you did with your life before that moment, even if it had nothing at all to do with guns. Even if you can't spell gun.

4) When you need a car and yours isn't around, there is going to be one with the keys left in it or you are going to know how to hotwire it.

5) You get to do cool stuff on trains. (I mean, think about it. How many people do you know who use trains as a regular means of transport for long distances? But, on tv, trains, train tracks, train stations--all these things seem to play a big role.)

6) Even if you do bad things, people like you. Like if you've ever watched Dexter. I mean, he's a serial killer, but you like him and don't want him to get caught.

7) You have cell phone service pretty much everywhere, including basements and parking garages. And, if you don't have a cell phone, probably because you had to throw it away because you were being tracked by it, there's a pay phone around. Or if you need to call someone to deliver some sort of secret message, you can tell them to go to a pay phone, which will obviously be working. Even though I'm not sure the last time I even saw a pay phone.

8) No matter how supposedly poor you are--or if you are on the run because you just broke out of prison--you will have Ray Ban sunglasses. I mean, Tim Riggins has $200 sunglasses. This principle basically applies to any tv wardrobe. Even if you are supposed to be poor, you will still wear expensive designer clothes.

9) This one isn't me, it's my little sister. You will always have and drink bottled water.

If only I could have wardrobe people and prop people to set up my life.

Clarification and Addition

First, my little sister is forcing me to print a clarification. If she had to date someone, she obviously would, as previously mentioned, choose Jacob. She does, however, think that Edward is a much better fit for Bella. So I guess she's like me. This means that our older sister is apparently the only one of us who can make a decision and is 100% Team Edward.

Second, one last people-watching observation. A girl and her friend came into the theater kind of late. And by kind of late I mean 11:40ish. Naturally, there was nowhere left to sit except for the very front. The girl started to cry--seriously--and said, "I can't sit in the front. I just can't do it." Her friend stared her down and very sternly told her, "We have to. There are no other options. If we don't sit in the front, we have to split up." It was like they were at war. I kind of feel like extreme statements like "there are no other options" should be reserved for actual important conversations--serious life-or-death-type things. Not having to sit in the front row of a movie that, let's face it, if you're into it enough to see it at midnight, you're totally going to come see again.

Tales from the Midnight Hour

I love going to midnight movies because you not only get to see a movie, you get to see crazy people. Last night, I went to the midnight showing of Eclipse. Yes, I'm one of those people. But, I do have to say that my younger sister and I definitely fall more towards the normal side of the Twilight-crazy spectrum. How do I know this you ask. Well, I know because she and I did not do any of the following things:

1) Wear a Twilight-related shirt

If you are an adult woman, you should not be wearing a shirt with Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewart, or Taylor Lautner on it. (Because that's who is on the shirts--that's Robert Pattinson's face, not Edward Cullen's. He's a fictional character in a book that isn't illustrated and as such doesn't actually have a face that can be screen printed onto fabrics for you to wear.) No one needs to know if you belong to Team Edward or Team Jacob, which brings me to the next thing on my list.

2) Have an actual serious conversation in the bathroom about if you belong to Team Edward or Team Jacob

My little sister returned from the bathroom and told me this story: A girl in a New Moon shirt looked at a girl wearing a shirt that said, "Don't Make Me Choose." I assume this sentiment was not sufficient for New Moon girl because she gave Don't Make Me Choose girl a serious look and asked, "No seriously, who are you for?" (Again, I digress. What's with the team thing. Because teams involve some kind of fighting or battle, and during the only battles that really matter in those books--battles against crazy, people-eating vampires, technically Edward and Jacob are on the same side. Fights over girls don't really count, and sides should not be taken in such cases....especially when it is so obvious who is going to win. I mean, Team Jacob people, let's be honest, why not get shirts that say "I lose.") After some thought, Don't Make Me Choose girl finally responded, "Edward. He's better for her."

(Now I know you're probably thinking I'm a hypocrite because if I'm going to the movies at midnight, I obviously kind of love Twilight. This is true, although I do sometimes try and use my job as an excuse--middle school girls love this stuff and I need to know my demographic. But I do know when to reign it in. I have actually had the Team conversation, and I have to say it is a minor source of friction between my sisters and me. My little sister is firmly planted in Team Jacob. I think this is where she belongs because she has circulation issues so her feet and hands are always cold. Jacob is 108 degrees. My older sister is firmly planted in Team Edward because she thinks Robert Pattinson is dreamy and I guess thinks it's romantic for a boy to be obsessed with you and sneak into your room all the time to watch you sleep. My personal opinion is a bit more complex--partially because I'm a book nerd so I think that the choice should be solely based on what happens in the books, not Robert Pattinson's hair or Taylor Lautner's abs. If I'm making a choice for Bella, I have to go with Team Edward because I find her kind of annoying and him really mopey and I think they deserve each other. If I'm making a choice for me, I have to go with Team Jacob because he's warm all the time, taller, and let's be honest, it would be great if someone imprinted on you. My sisters think this is a cop out answer....I think it makes perfect sense.)

3) Watch the Eclipse preview on a cell phone while sitting in the theater

I wish I was joking about this, but I'm not. Two girls sitting down the row from us were watching the Eclipse preview on one of the girl's cell phones. Seriously. The movie is going to start in about 20 minutes. Why are you watching the preview? Surely you know what it's about or you wouldn't have come to the midnight show. Are you really that into it that you have to watch the preview at regular intervals to get your fix (is the Eclipse preview your brand of heroin)?

Much to my surprise, I actually really enjoyed the movie. But, if you're going to go, make sure you read the book first. And you should probably decide which team you're on so you don't get stuck in the bathroom being asked a question that you're not prepared to answer.

You Wish You Were At My House Right Now

Right now, I'm sitting at my kitchen table reading a book about reading in the content areas for one of the classes I'm taking this summer. My little sister is sitting on my couch watching a lecture about securities regulations to help her get ready to take the third part of the CPA exam (and I swear that the guy is speaking a language that isn't English because I have an English degree and don't understand anything he's saying). It is so exciting.

I'm about to give up on my studies and try and convince her to watch Twilight and New Moon so we can get prepared to go to Eclipse at midnight! Yes, I'm one of those nerds who is going to see Eclipse at midnight. And I don't care enough to be embarrassed.

No More

There will be no more sports-related posts for me. Bad things happen when I post sports things. The Celtics--yeah, I blogged about them, and they lost the championship. Then I blogged about soccer, and the US lost. I'm pretty positive I've mentioned the Red Sox a time or two, and now pretty much the whole team is on the DL.

So, I'm going to do my best to stop blogging about sports and teams that I care about because apparently it's bad luck. Perhaps I should try blogging about teams I wish would lose....

Is It Redecorating...

if you never really decorated to begin with? I'm not sure, but I'm going to call it that. One thing I feel like I've not properly embraced about being single is the fact that I have my own room and can do with it what I like.

Thanks to winkflash.com's 40% off sale on canvases I recently got around to having some pictures from Rome, Spain, and Russia printed on canvas wraps. This is something I've been meaning to do for about three years. Having my new canvases has thrown me into a desire to actually decorate my bedroom. I think I feel like the pictures are super cool and they deserve a super cool home. The first step of this was cleaning out my closet, which I have done! I'm now moving on to the fun part--getting some new stuff and putting it up. My canvas wraps are here, and I'm getting new frames for a few old pictures to go with them. I have a painting done by a friend that I'm finally going to get around to hanging up. Plus, I'm investigating some new book shelving options--since as previously mentioned, I have a rather large number of books that need a home (and the five-shelf bookshelf, along with the two-shelf bookshelf, I have is already full).

The really fun part about this is that I can do whatever I want. I don't have to check to make sure anyone else likes it, and I don't have to worry about making anyone else happy with the room since I'm the only one who lives there! And, I don't have to worry about whether or not something would be guy-friendly before I do it (and by that I mean that sometimes when I'm looking at Pottery Barn or something I do this thing where I look at all the bedspreads and stuff through this lens of whether or not they would work in a room that was shared by a boy and a girl--like could I reasonably expect to get this if I were married or would my husband absolutely object because of all the flowers on it--I like to think I'm not the only girl who does this, but it could just be another thing that makes me a little strange). So I'm now on a mission to create my perfect space, one that is totally distinctive and me--because I'm single and I can.

Random Thoughts from a Random Summer

So far, embracing my summer vacation has looked a little like this:

Watching soccer, watching tennis, taking a class, sleeping, day tripping to Athens, and rereading the Twilight books (a. I refuse to call it the Twilight Saga because I think saga used in that context is a stupid word b. The movie for Eclipse comes out Wednesday, so I had to reread it so that I can be properly outraged about every small detail that differs from the book).

Not a lot of crazy things, but it's been nice. Here are a few highlights/observations of my summer thus far. (And maybe an embarrassing confession.)

I took my little brother out on a brother/sister date. While we were eating, he looked at me and asked, "If I was a piece of cereal, would I eat myself?" I responded, "I don't know. What kind of cereal would you be." He then said, "Cinnamon Toast Crunch part of this good breakfast." So I replied, "It's just called Cinnamon Toast Crunch." He, seemingly perplexed, told me, "Well, I've seen the commercial, and it says Cinnamon Toast Crunch part of this good breakfast." So I had to explain that they tack on that last bit to make people want to buy it. Perhaps they need to start teaching advertising strategies in kindergarten....

For some reason, I get inexplicably excited about the World Cup. I love it. I like to think that living in Europe for a short while made me somehow more in tune with soccer and that now I have this deep, understood affinity with it that came from breathing European air and drinking European water (not deep enough for me to start calling it football instead of soccer mind you). It probably also has something to do with patriotism and the passion displayed by the fans and the pure joy and absolute heartbreak on display--all the same reasons why I get way to into the Olympics. (I mean, the side of Ghana's bus has The Hope of Africa on it--how can you not love that??)

People who know me know that when I get excited I get ideas. Usually, those ideas somehow manifest themselves in my classroom, but it's summer. So I can't go about creating all sorts of World Cup themed assignments like I did during the Olympics. What I can do however is solve the problem of soccer not being popular in the United States. Commentators and sports radio people have been talking about this for weeks. Americans don't like soccer, they can't get into it for whatever reason (unless Landon Donovan scores a goal in stoppage time to put the US through to the next round...then everyone loves it--but according to sports talkers, they'll stop loving it if the US loses today). So the debate rages, how do you get us darn Americans to watch the soccer? I think the answer is simple. Market to women.

For girls, the World Cup is basically a hotbed of hidden hotties, really cute guys who, if it weren't for the World Cup, you would never see. Seriously, every team has at least one cute guy. And, at the beginning of each game, they walk out holding hands with a cute little kid. Women like this. When their team scores, they get crazy excited, and no matter how old they are they turn into a little kid on Christmas--they smile, jump all over each other, sometimes do choreographed dances with their teammates. Women like this. Then, at the end of the game, they trade jerseys with each other, so there's at least five minutes of tv coverage where all the soccer players are shirtless. Women like this.

Aside from the guys, there is a lot of time during a soccer game when, to the average fan who doesn't really understand soccer and has never played it, it seems like nothing's really going on. You just start paying attention when someone gets close to a goal. You can usually catch it right before the goal gets scored--then you get to see all the exciting stuff. So, theoretically, a soccer game is the kind of thing women could have on in the background and just half-way pay attention to while they're talking with each other.

Now I know that this sounds kind of like a horrible idea because basically you would have a bunch of commercials saying things like "Soccer: Watch it for the Hot Guys," and that's objectifying men. But people objectify women all the time to sell stuff, so I don't really think the women would mind. I can also understand how it would be degrading to the sport. People should want to watch soccer to see the game, not just the players. But I think if you could just draw them in with the boys, they would learn to like it and stick around.

This leads to the second part of my argument for advertising to women. You would also get to men.

Imagine if you're a guy and your girlfriend actually wants to watch sports with you (not all girls are like me and want to watch sports all the time--seriously, I didn't go shopping with my mom yesterday because I wanted to watch sports). As a guy, I think you would be thankful, even if it was a sport you weren't super into. I imagine you would just start to think of the possibilities--it could start with soccer and then maybe lead to football (especially since in most places soccer is called football, and if you were dating a total idiot, you could really just confuse her and probably convince her that football was what she had always liked). Soccer, in your mind, would be a gateway sport. So, guys would start watching it with their girlfriends, and then they would realize that it is actually exciting to watch. Once you got everyone in, you could switch to a much more sophisticated advertising campaign. I really think it would work.

I went to see Toy Story 3. I cried. And not just a little. I had to take off my glasses to dry my eyes.

I had a recent burst of inspiration and cleaned out my closet and my room. I found books in everything--every bag and box I opened. I also found a lot of Barnes and Noble bags. I then thought, for the first (and probably last) time ever, that maybe I don't need to get anymore books ever. Anyone who knows me knows that for me, that's borderline blasphemy. Good thing I didn't feel that way when I woke up this morning.

Who thought the game show Downfall was a good idea. I haven't watched it, but sending big prizes off the side of a building to their destruction when someone gets a question wrong? Seriously? My little sister pretty much summed it up when she said, "You really shouldn't be ruining cars in this economy."

That's it for now. I'm starting 2 classes on Tuesday, and anytime I have to read about education, I usually have lots of random thoughts to share. But right now, I'm going to watch soccer--go USA!

New Blog. New(ish) Me.

In case you didn't notice, I changed to look of the blog a bit. Given everything I've been learning lately and my emergence from my I'm-Single-Slump I thought a change would be nice. I've also decided that I really need to get back to the original spirit of my blog--embracing being single and all the opportunities it provides! And since it's summer and I'm a teacher, which means I'm not going to work everyday, it's the perfect time for this. I already took advantage of my free me time to catch up on lots of things I DVRed the last few weeks of school, read a ton of books, and watch a Netflix movie I've had for at least a month but never got around to watching during school. I took my little brother on a fun Big Sis/Little Bro date to our local children's museum, including a visit to the butterfly tent, which is amazing. And, I did a lot of sleeping in and taking naps. In short, I feel like I've recovered from the crazy end of the school year and now feel refreshed and ready to get back to loving my single life! Which for you means back to fun blog posts.

Is There a Remedial Class for Life? Because I Should Probably Be in It

I think that if I ever wrote a book about my life, it would have to be titled something like All the Ways I Missed the Obvious or Things That Make Perfect Sense That I Didn't Understand. To be honest, I would probably spend multiple days to think of a more witty way to say it, but the sentiment would be the same as the boring, previously stated titles. I tend to live inside my own head. It is a place where, I'm starting to realize more and more each day, things don't make sense at all. I somehow manage to convince myself that some things are true, but when I say them out loud or think about them for awhile, I realize they are incredibly not true. In fact, many times they are so untrue that they're borderline stupid.

Example:

As recently chronicled, I haven't been super-satisfied being single lately. And, I've been praying more. I had a bit of a crisis about praying about not wanting to be single anymore. I felt like it was just easier for me to spend time convincing myself that being single was so fun, so great for me, and that I totally loved it. Because praying about it, asking for a change, would be admitting that I wanted it to change. And it meant that I would be opening myself up for disappointment. In my mind, if I prayed about it and stayed single forever, then I would feel sad and disappointed forever. Who wants to feel sad forever? Not me. So, based on that, I felt like praying about getting married wasn't for me. I would rather just pretend I didn't want it. Because that makes sense....?

I started praying about it anyway because my book said that I should pray about stuff and ask for stuff. Plus I wasn't exactly happy with the state of things, so I might as well give it a go. So I start praying and expect two possible outcomes: A) Yes. Here's a superfab boyfriend. Go ahead and start planning your wedding (slash putting into motions all those things you've been planning since you were 5). B) No. Go forth and be sad and lonely for the rest of your life.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, this is the part where I'm stupid.

See, there's a third option. I could pray about it, stay single, but not be so bummed out anymore. This, naturally, is what's happened.

So, I learned quite possibly one of the most obvious lessons of all time. God doesn't want me to live a life where I feel sad all the time. He doesn't want me to feel alone and hopeless. So even if I feel that way, He's not going to just sit back and let me keep feeling that way. Praying about something makes room for God to work in my life. It opens up a part of my heart that I was keeping closed, asks Him in, and lets Him change me. And that's good.

Sure, there was some part of me that kind of hoped that prayer would be like adding water to some instant boyfriend powder and make someone just appear, but even I knew this was very unlikely. What I've gotten has been even better. God is showing me how sufficient He is. He is teaching me that my desire should be for Him and that I can be satisfied in Him. And it has been infinitely better than any human relationship could ever be.

Boo. Hiss. Boo.

I blame my little sister. She hasn't watched very much of a game this series. In fact, she just said that this is the most game she's watched this series. It was bad luck I think--if she's not watching, they win. If she is watching, they lose.

It's either that or the fact that the Red Sox used all the Boston sports magic to beat the Rays today.

Whoever is to blame, I now must forfeit my sleep on Wednesday. And I'm thinking about making my little sister forfeit her tv watching.

(Total aside: I now plan to watch all of the Lakers-Suns game tomorrow because Steve Nash will be playing with a broken nose. Is it possible to be a sports fan who lives on the East Coast and who still gets a normal amount of sleep? I think not. Alas, sleep is overrated. I can sleep June 3rd.)

I Don't Like You...

Jameer Nelson. Not at all. I used to like you when you were in college. But I don't anymore.

Dwight Howard, not a big fan of yours either.

But, Ray Allen, I do like you. Keep up the threes please. And your mom is quite cute.

Overtime?!?

Dear Celtics,

I don't think you read my post from last Tuesday.

Overtime games are not ideal.

I have school tomorrow.

(But, I will accept overtime if that's what it takes to win.)

Please win so this series will be over.

And I can get some sleep.

Thank you.

Happy Thoughts!

Thanks to some help from a very patient friend, I have somewhat sorted through my feelings and climbed out from the mountain of self pity otherwise known as this week.

Taking her advice, I let myself feel sad and quit beating myself up over the fact that being a 26-year-old who is sad about not having a boyfriend makes me a cliche (one of the dirtiest words in the English language to English majors) and my inability to perfectly control my feelings and make myself feel good emotions on cue. (Seriously we had a conversation where I complained about the fact that I can't make myself feel happy whenever I want to, which led to the conversation about how I don't like to not be good at something--I either work to get good at it our just quit--but unfortunately for me, I can't practice and get total control of my emotions because I'm a girl, and I can't quit having feelings.)

Then, I felt bad for posting a bunch of stuff on my blog that made me sound depressed. I do it because writing makes me feel better, but maybe I should keep the sad, Debbie-downer stuff in a journal....

Anyway, rest assured that I'm now feeling much better and plan to focus on happier blog posts from now on (If I can't control my own feelings, I can at least control my blog's feelings!).

When it Rains, it Pours/Learning to Pray: Part Two

So in addition to learning that my prayers don't have to be fancy, another thing I'm learning from my book is that it's ok to ask for stuff. The author of my prayer book tells lots of stories about his children and how as a parent he enjoys giving to them. If I, as an earthly father, delight in giving to my children, he muses, how much more does their Heavenly Father enjoy it? He goes on to write about how prayer leads to hope in our lives. And how this is a good thing.

When I pray, there are two things that I don't usually ask for. First, I usually don't ask for help with things I think I can do on my own. Second, I usually don't ask for things I really want because if I ask for it, I'm admitting how much I want it, then I'll start hoping for it, and then I'll be really sad if I don't get it.

One good example of this is getting married. I stopped praying for that. It's easier for me to make my list of reasons why I like being single and convince myself that I'm happy and that this is what's best for me. That I don't want it. And if I don't let myself want it, I'm not disappointed when I don't get it.

But, since I read in my book that asking for stuff is good, I decided to give it a try. Last week, my students had their state standardized testing, which means for two hours every morning I could do nothing but walk up and down aisles monitoring them. This gave me a lot of time to pray. So, one morning, I just thought, "Well, I'm just going to try this asking thing....it's worth a shot." So, I spent some time walking up and down aisles watching students test and talking with God about my desire to not be single anymore.

Now, let me just preface the rest of this by saying I was not expecting to ask for a boyfriend and then get home to find one sitting on my front porch. I am totally aware that that's not how this works. I was just expecting to be honest with God about how I felt and come away feeling better...or at least more at peace. It felt nice. And like Paul E. Miller writes, it felt hopeful.

What I was not expecting was for two people to ask me later that day about my roommate's boyfriend, which I didn't know she had (because it was a very recent development and I don't have facebook, not because my roommate and I have some strange relationship where we live together but never talk....I mean, I knew she was kind of talking to someone, but I didn't know they had made it official). Seriously, I thought, I finally own up to the fact that I would like a boyfriend, and my only single girl friend who lives near me gets one. (Then, for a brief moment, I thought that perhaps prayer was like detecting the use of magic in Harry Potter. The ministry can tell whenever anyone in a house uses magic, but they can't tell who actually used it. This is why Harry gets in trouble when Dobby does magic at the Dursley's. So maybe, there was just an alert that somebody at my house had asked for a boyfriend, but the request wasn't labeled, so since there were two single girls at my house, my roommate got one instead. Then I remembered that God knows everything, and He knew it was me. Plus, I was praying in my classroom anyway.)

To get to the point, I had finally allowed myself to have a little spark of hope, and then it felt like something came along and snuffed it right out. So, I've been feeling pretty low for about a week.

Add that to the end of the school year, which means kids are crazy, and you get the not-so-good-place where I currently am.

Then, yesterday, I planned a fun lesson for my last class to do--I actually got help from our drama teacher and planned some improv games for them to do in response to the book we just finished reading. I was excited because I thought they would be excited and want to do the lesson. But they didn't, which just made me feel worse.

Then, this morning, when I got in my car to come to school, it wouldn't start. Seriously.

So now, all I want to do is crawl in my bed, go to sleep, and pretend that the world has gone away because I'm rather tired of it right now.

I do feel like I need to say a few good things so no one thinks I'm horribly depressed and so my mom doesn't worry about me. Other than my last class, I had a great day at school yesterday. My other classes just finished reading The Giver, which is one of my favorite books. Lois Lowry won the Newberry Award for it, so yesterday in class we read and discussed her acceptance speech. I absolutely love it, and there is a part at the end that reminds me of why I wanted to become a teacher. My students liked it too, and we had fabulous discussion on it, which reminded me of why I love being a teacher. I baby-sat my brother last night, and we played board games, which was really fun, and after he went to bed I got to play the piano at my mom's for an hour, which always makes me feel better. And, last night the Celtics won game 2 and the Red Sox beat the Yankees. See, not everything is horrible.

Yay!

The Celtics won and are now up 2-0 in the series! (Two wins in Orlando no less! Orlando's first two losses of the playoffs no less!) Now, I'm going to think that I have to stay up and watch the end of all the games or it will be bad luck.

And before you think that I'm being too superstitious or something, I'm the girl who wore her Red Sox hat for the ENTIRE duration of the 2004 playoffs. Even on days when there wasn't a game. It only came off for showers and sleeping at night (but I did sleep with it in my bed). Naps? Oh yes, I wore it. Work? Totally wore it. Class? Yes.

The Red Sox won the World Series that year, and even though it makes no sense at all, I like to think my hat-wearing was somehow important in that. So, if losing sleep is what it takes, then losing sleep is what I'll do.

Dear Sleep,

I will miss you.

Dear Celtics,

If you could sweep the Magic, I would appreciate it.

I need my sleep.

P.S. Paul Pierce, you just said you're going to close out the series at home.

Do that. Please.

The Best Way to Get Untired...

is not by staying up late watching the NBA playoffs.

I inherited a lot of things from my dad, like my height. I missed out on some stuff too, like being logical and good at doing complicated math problems in my head. But, one important thing I did get was a deep love for sports, at this time of year specifically a love of the Red Sox and the Celtics.

As I type, the Celtics are battling it out with the Magic in game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals (they actually just gave up the lead...if you could see me, you would see my frown). And I'm battling it out with myself. I should have gone to bed at half time, but I didn't. Now there's just over three minutes left, the game is super close, and there's no way I'm going to bed until it's over.

So, tomorrow I'm going to be really tired and happy or really tired and sad. Either way, by about 1:00 tomorrow afternoon the reasonable part of me will be very angry with the nonreasonable part of me that made the decision to stay up late. Thankfully game 3 is on Saturday night, so there's no school the next day.

I know, some people might be thinking, "Why don't you just learn your lesson and go to bed? Check the score in the morning." But I'm the girl who epically failed a Calculus test her senior year of high school because she stayed up until 1:30 in the morning watching Andy Roddick's five-set quarterfinal match against Layton Hewitt in the US Open. The girl who woke up in the middle of the night to listen to the BCS National Championship game on her computer when she lived in Moscow even though she had work the next day. The girl who woke up to watch Red Sox games at 3:00 in the morning when she lived in Moscow no matter what she had to do the next day. If I was going to learn my lesson, I would have learned it by now.

(One last aside--yes, I just posted about how I sacrifice sleep to watch sports if it's necessary. And I'm single?? I find that ironic/strange/funny/entertaining/something.)

Learning to Pray--Part One

So I'm reading a book about prayer, which means I'm trying to pray more and pray differently. Parts of it have been good--the parts about how my prayers don't have to be fancy and formal, they can just be real and messy and honest. How I don't have to dress up my life and my heart for Jesus. How I don't even have to try and put it together myself first before I come to Him. Because the truth is I've been feeling rather unputtogether lately and it's been rather freeing to just go to Christ and say, "Here's my mess. It needs some sorting through, and I'm not sure how to do it and quite frankly I'm not feeling really up to the task." It's nice to just honestly lay out how I'm feeling instead of just praying about how I think I should feel. Because the truth is that those two things are rarely ever the same lately.

For example, I know I should be feeling this way: "I'm so thankful for my job and so thankful that I got a contract for next year. With the state of the economy right now, there are plenty of people without jobs who would love to have one. I'm thankful for my job because I work with some amazing people. I'm thankful for my job because I get to have relationships with students at such an important time in their lives; I get to help them as they are just starting out their journeys figuring out who they are. I'm thankful for my job because I get to make 49 students read one of my favorite books and discuss it with them."

But really, I'm feeling this way: "12 days. Really. I don't know if I can make it 12 days. And if I do, I think there are some of my students who may not."

So, I like that I can wake up in the mornings and instead of saying something like, "Jesus thank you so much for my wonderful job. I'm so thankful and can't wait to go to work. What a tremendous blessing my job is. Thank you for each of my students and the opportunity I have today to show them your love." I can say something like this, "Jesus, I want to go back to sleep. I'm not too thrilled about going to school and kind of wish that you would fast forward to June 3. I know you probably won't do that, but it's possible, so if you could make that happen, it would be great."

I know the first one is how I should be feeling, but if I prayed that, it would be a big fat lie. I could pray something to the effect of "make my heart feel this way," but most mornings I'm not even in a place where that's my number one desire, so saying I wanted that wouldn't be totally truthful either. By saying my second prayer, I'm being honest. And while it might not be churchy and "church-correct," it makes me feel so much better knowing that my feelings, my sinfulness, and my helplessness have been laid out on the table and I'm not going to go through the day trying to hide them underneath some fake super-Christian front I'm putting on for God. It's actually helpful because it puts the fact that I'm not able to do life on my own right in my face. It puts me up close with my inadequacy, takes away any hint of any part of me being able to be good on it's own. It frees me up to rely on Christ.

At first it sounds like this might just let me focus on the negative, but for me it does the opposite. It puts my focus on Christ. It reminds me I need Him. And it keeps me thinking throughout the day that all good things are coming from Him because when I'm honest about my shortcomings, I know they"re not coming from me.

Getting My Priorities Straight

I've recently been chided by several friends about my severe absence from my blog. The easy answer is that I'm a teacher and with the school-year coming to a close, exams needing to be written, students dreaming of summer, and state standardized testing going on right now, I'm so tired I can't even think about having anything even closely resembling a life. (Plus for the last two Mondays I was doing a practice test and final test in computer class, which is now over!)

While all of that's true, it's not really the answer to my non-blogging. I've been in a little bit of a funk lately. I have this tendency to try and do life on my own. Generally I can handle it. But when I get overwhelmed, which is what happens to me at the end of the school year, I tend to shut down and let everything that isn't a felt necessity fall by the wayside. In other words, if it doesn't absolutely have to get done at a particular time on a particular day, it's going to get ignored in favor of a nap or doing something mindless like watching a movie I've seen a million times before.

Unfortunately for me, my relationship with the Lord is usually not as felt of a need as it should be. So, as more and more of my time gets put into my job and into collapsing into bed when I get home, less and less of it gets spent with the Lord. And when what He's teaching me is what gets blogged about, this means I have little to blog about.

My small group just started reading Paul Miller's book A Praying Life. I'm really enjoying it....or at least really learning from it. He talks in one of the early chapters about how our lives should be integrated. What he means is that our relationships with God should be part of every part of our lives. This seems like it would be obvious, but apparently, I'm a bit dense. But, after I read it, things started to make a bit more sense.

Teaching isn't separate from my relationship with the Lord. My relationships with my friends and my family aren't separate from my relationship with the Lord. They aren't all separate entities that don't relate to or affect each other. My life is my relationship with the Lord, so it's in my job. It's in my relationships. It's in everything. Or, more appropriately, it is everything. And thinking that it's just another thing for me to do means I end up tired and overwhelmed when I try and do life on my own. I'm not meant to do life on my own. I'm meant to do it with Christ. And when I do that, I can rejoice in my overwhelmedness for in my weakness His power is made perfect. And that's the power that gets me through the day (and will get me to June 2...).

Hot for Substitute Teacher

The Social Studies teacher on my team today was absent, so he had a substitute teacher. By lunch, every 7th grade girl I teach was calling him "the hot sub." When we got back to my room after lunch, three of my girl students and I had this conversation:

Students: "How was your lunch today?"

Me: "It was fine. Why?"

Students: "You got to sit at the teacher table with the hot sub." Swoon. Swoon.

I think he's going to be back tomorrow. I'm contemplating getting drool rags for every girl I teach. Or maybe going in to observe them bat their eyelashes right off their faces.

I then proceeded to have this conversation with some boy students:

Students: "Did you see the sub? You should date him."

Me: "Thanks. But he's younger than me."

Students: "Are you ever going to get married?"

Me: "I guess if I met a guy I liked and he asked me, I would say yes."

Students: "You need to get married."

Me: "Really? Why?"

Students: "You deserve a husband."

The student who told me I deserve a husband is the same one who on my birthday told me that if I got married, I would be happy.

When my last class came in, no less than four of them told me that they had informed "the hot sub" that he should ask me out. Seriously. If it weren't so ridiculous, I would have been embarrassed. I guess maybe I should be flattered since apparently my 7th graders think that I am cool enough to date.

But really, it ended up being one of those days when all I could do was sit back in my desk and think to myself, "This is middle school. And this is my life."

Jesus, Me, and a Skateboard?

There are certain times in my life when I feel more single than others. The two biggest ones are church and grocery shopping. Random, I know. But it is what it is....

In the fall I started going to a new church. I love everything about my new church, and I have made some amazing new friends who have been such blessings in my life. The only thing is that they're all married, so when I go to church, the pew looks a little something like this: couple, couple, couple, me. It's like that scene in Bridget Jones's Diary where she goes to dinner at her friends' house and it's all the couples and her--only no one has ever chased me out of church to tell me they like me just as I am, but I'm holding out hope that it might happen one week. Don't misunderstand me, I love my new friends and most of the time I don't even really think about the fact that they are all married but me. And, let's be honest, I'm 26, so a lot of girls my age are (a lot of them have babies too...which just the thought of being there in my life scares the mess out of me), but sometimes it's hard to sit in church beside a bunch of people who have husbands.

The church thing is sometimes made worse by the fact that on my way home every week I pass a billboard for a local jewelry store that has a giant picture of a fabulous engagement ring. One day, when I have a boyfriend, and he is driving me to and from church, I will give subtle hints about this ring every Sunday.

I'm not really sure why the grocery store makes me feel single. I think it's because groceries are packaged in family-sized packages usually, so I end up buying more than I need and I know as I'm putting it in my cart that I'm probably going to throw some of it away. Or, I buy the single sized things, like the Just for One frozen vegetables, and all I can think of is how my cart is now a glowing advertisement of my relationship status. It's not really important. (Total aside--my computer teacher just made a comment about someone having a wedding coming up and totally just looked at me and my 2 single friends....)

This weekend a church near my mom's house had a big rummage sale. My little brother went so he could spend his allowance on some new toys. One thing he got was a skateboard for a whopping 50 cents. Obviously, since he got it at a garage sale, it wasn't new. This skateboard looks very well-loved. And, in case you don't get it, by well-loved I mean beat up. He could care less. He invited me over, and when I pulled up in the driveway, he held his new skateboard up for me to see. His face was beaming.

I couldn't help but think that my amazing little brother's attitude towards his new skateboard is a lot like God's attitude towards me. My brother loves his skateboard. When he looks at it, he doesn't see something old and beat up that's pretty much past its prime. He sacrificed his time doing his chores to earn his allowance, so he sees his skateboard that he worked hard to get. He sees his skateboard that he paid for. He sees his skateboard that he loves.

Much like my little brother's skateboard, I've been through a lot, and I'm pretty sinful and messed up. But, when God looks at me, He doesn't see the beat up, sinful girl that I am. He sees something beautiful. He sacrificed His Son to get the blood to cover my sins, so He sees a girl that He worked hard to get. He sees a girl that He paid for. He sees a girl that He loves.

I think that sometimes I wish I were married so that when people looked at me they knew that someone had picked me out of all the girls in the world. Having a husband to sit with in church or a ring for the check-out person to see would be a sign to the world that, despite all my faults, someone wanted me. What I forget a lot is that despite all my sins, someone did want me, does want me, and will always want me.

And while that's not always visible to the outside world, like people in church or in the grocery store, that doesn't make it any less real or valuable. Because the real truth is that when God looks at me, His face is beaming.

I like to think that He looks a lot like a six-year-old showing off a skateboard.

Bake On!

I have a friend who loves to cook. But, she doesn't bake. Since I like to do both, she will occasionally bring me a recipe that she finds and wants to try that requires baking and instruct me to bake it. Recently she brought me her copy of Molly Wizenberg's memoir/cookbook A Homemade Life with instructions to read it and try my hand at the blueberry raspberry pound cake recipe.

Anyone who watched the early seasons of Grey's Anatomy will understand what I mean when I say that I, like Izzy, am a stress baker. And anyone who has ever taught will understand what I mean when I say that few things in life are more futile than trying to teach a roomful of kids anything after Spring Break when they can clearly see the sun shining outside.

Those two things combined mean that my friend did not have to do any convincing to get me to bake a cake. By Friday, I had an acute need to bake. Anything and everything I could think of. Friday night I made the cake, which turned out to be positively amazing. Saturday I baked some banana bread with chocolate and crystallized ginger--something I thought sounded a little bizarre but I think ended up being quite good. Tomorrow I'm planning on baking some chocolate cupcakes with a bittersweet chocolate glaze. (All three recipes are from the book.)

The only real problem with the fact that baking is how I unwind and release stress is that I end up with a bunch of baked goods and really no one to eat them. Sometimes I take things to my students, but they really don't need the sugar right now. Sometimes I take things to school, but teachers always seem to be on diets and never want to eat anything I take in. This leaves me and my roommate. (One important thing to note is that my roommate's brother is getting married this summer, and she is making his groom's cake. This week, she decided to bake and decorate her first trial cake, so before my baking extravaganza, we already had a cake meant to feed 50 people in our kitchen. Our house looks like a bakery....only we aren't selling stuff, so there's no one to eat it but us.) So far, I've eaten just under half of my cake myself--and it's only been one day. My mouth says thanks, but I can hear my waist crying out in protest...thankfully my mouth is much louder.

I couldn't help but wish that I had a husband so there would be someone to eat and appreciate all that I baked (I also had the thought that I will probably be the greatest wife ever since for two days I basically did nothing but bake yummy food and willingly watch and analyze the NFL Draft, but that's another story for another post--although I did think of starting a list of reasons why I would be an amazing wife but then decided that would make me sound very prideful, whereas comments in passing would come off as much less full-of-myself).

But then I thought that since I plan on teaching for a while, there is probably a lot of stress baking in my future ,and I thought that since I think if I were married I would have more things to worry about, there would be even more stress baking. This made me think that I would end up with a really fat husband, and I don't particularly want that. So I guess it's a good thing that I have to spread out my baking to multiple family and friends instead of just one husband.

I Can See!

As previously blogged, one thing I enjoy about being single is my financial freedom, the fact that I can spend my money how I want to. This week, I put the rest of the money I made from doing homebound into new glasses! I went for my eye check-up, and my prescription had changed a tiny bit--enough to make new glasses nice but not enough to make them absolutely necessary, especially since I don't wear them all the time anyway. But, I had had my old glasses for four-and-a-half years and thought a change would be nice.

My little sister pointed out to me later that I should have just gotten new lenses for my old frames. This, she argued, would have been the fiscally responsible thing to do. Fiscally responsible, yes. Fun, no. When I got my first pair, I was in college, so my mom was paying for them (and let me say she did let me pick out some fabulous frames). This time around, since I'm now a "responsible adult," I was in charge of footing the bill. While some people might think of this as a bad thing, I found it liberating. I could pick out whatever I wanted. If they cost slightly more than I planned to spend, that was ok. It didn't matter what anyone else thought about how they looked because I was paying for them. It was totally and completely my choice.

It only took me about ten minutes to find my new frames, and I picked up my new glasses yesterday. It may seem silly, but getting (and paying for) my new glasses made me feel a little bit more like a real grown-up. (It was also a nice way to celebrate finishing homebound--which I FINALLY did yesterday--since I wouldn't have felt comfortable spending so much on glasses if I hadn't done it.)

And while I'm sure it would have been nice to have a boyfriend/husband to tell me how amazing I look with my new glasses last night, I don't really need that. I just so happen to think I look pretty cute in them. And me liking me is certainly a lot more important than some boy doing it.

Pencils

So the school where I teach is by no means a low-income school. Most of my students come to school everyday wearing their North Face jackets over their Guy Harvey shirts, sporting their Sperry's, talking on their cell phones with unlimited text and data packages, and listening to their iPods. I write all that to make the point that obviously I have students whose parents can afford to buy them things. Apparently, their shopping trips for their students never make it to normal, reasonably priced items, however, because my students never have pencils.

I decided to order some pencils and have the word "pencilnapped" along with my name put on them. I thought that this would discourage students from borrowing them and not giving them back or that at least other teachers would take them away and return them to me. This has not worked. I ordered 24 and only have about 8 left. Well, on Friday, I did have a student "return" one of my pencilnapped pencils to me. Here is how it happened:

It was during my last block class, which means I was generally feeling discouraged and wishing it were 3:30 already. I had one group in the back who was supposed to be working on a group presentation, which they of course were not. Instead one of them was trying to show the others the new moves he had learned in Brazilian jujitsu (which I know because he did not even try to hide the fact that he was off task--instead he yelled at me across the classroom, "Do you want to see what I learned this week in Brazilian jujitsu?" Thanks student for the announcement, the fact that your foot was trying to get up by your head wasn't a sign that you weren't doing Language Arts). They were being loud and ridiculous, and I wanted to cry. Meanwhile, I'm trying to teach 5 students the proper way to use punctuation when you're writing with dialogue. 3 of the 5 are talking to each other instead of listening to me. By this point, I have basically decided that I could leave school at 1:30 because I'm not really doing any work anyway.

So I'm sitting there, trying to get 5 kids to do a dialogue activity when it happened. The kid sitting to the right of me is tapping one of my pencilnapped pencils against his desk. He was supposed to be using it to underline tags in an excerpt from a novel but whatever. So he's tapping away, and I guess somehow lost control of his/my pencil because the next thing I know, it has flown at me and hit me in the face right above my right eye. The pointed lead part. It hurt. It left a mark. Just in case you haven't picked up on it yet, this class makes me a little crazy. I almost cried, but I kept it under control. Barely. I decided to leave the mark on my face because as soon as class ended I walked to my friend's room to show her and then went to show my assistant principal.

Class finally ended, and my final class came in (it's like Study Hall for the last 30 minutes of the day). I was in a horrible mood, feeling useless and discouraged. A student wanted a pass to go visit my roommate who teaches 6th grade. Students know that if they want to go somewhere, they need to write a pass and bring it to me to sign. They also know that if they want it signed, they better bring something I can sign it with because I never have a pen or pencil handy. So, this student comes to me with his pass written out and hands it to me along with a pencil. I sign his pass, give it back, and he starts walking away. I tried to get his attention to return the pencil he had handed me to sign his pass. I guess he didn't hear me because he kept walking. I looked down at the pencil and it had this written on it: "I Have Jesus in My Heart." Seriously.

Some people say that God speaks to us in mysterious ways. Sure. But sometimes He uses a pencil.

Unsafe Expressions

During computer class yesterday, my friend's computer threw up one of those warnings that computers are sometimes prone to give you when you try to do something new. The ones like "you are about to send information over an unsecured connection." But her warning was one I've never seen before. It said, "Warning: unsafe expressions are not blocked." It's not too often that I see a computer warning and start to desire nothing but that in my life. To be honest, it has never happened to me before, but as soon as she called my attention to her warning, all I could think was, "Ohhhh. I want that!"

Seriously. Think of how amazing it would be if you could get a feature that blocked unsafe expressions. I'm a pretty expressive person; people can generally tell how I'm feeling or what I'm thinking by looking at me. An unsafe expression blocker would be wonderful--especially in the classroom.

I teach middle schoolers. Occasionally they ask incredibly stupid questions (I know...since I'm a teacher I'm supposed to say that there are no stupid questions. But since I love Jesus, I'm not supposed to lie. Jesus trumps teacher.)--for example, I recently had one student ask, "Burma is in France, right?" and another ask, "Are elephants man-eaters?" My friend had a student ask, "Is Mexico in the United States?" I don't care how mean it is; these are stupid questions. I try my best, but sometimes when a student asks a question such as these, I look at him or her like he or she is stupid.

I teach middle schoolers. Occasionally they laugh at incredibly stupid things. By incredibly stupid things I mainly mean things related to bodily functions. And by occasionally I mean pretty much all the time. My friend just told me this happened to her today whenever she said Vladimir Putin. I lived in Russia for a year while Putin was president. Never did I ever laugh at his name. But because she was telling me the story in the context of a middle school class, I laughed. I don't get it--I always laugh at this kind of stuff during class. Then, my students think it is ok to laugh at it and I feel incredibly immature. If I had an Unsafe Expression Blocker, I would be able to block the smirk and the laugh. I would look like a grown-up. It would be fantastic.


Someone needs to make this happen. The only downside to the Unsafe Expression Blocker would be that the show Lie to Me would not have been possible, and I like that show. I find it remarkably interesting.

Where Have I Been??

Nothing super eventful has been happening in my life, so instead of posting a bunch of mundane things, I haven't posted anything at all. A short recap of the past two weeks would be this:

-Wine tasting in Charleston and an Ingrid Michelson/Mat Kearney concert in Greenville (otherwise know as two of the greatest birthday presents of all time from two of the greatest sisters of all time). It was kind of fantastic for me to realize that I'm at a place in my life where I can get myself the things I need and pretty much the things I want (I might have to save up for them--but I can eventually get them), so for my birthday I got fun experiences.
-Spring Break, which this year for me meant a lot of sleeping, reading, drinking things that weren't water, and catching up on everything I've been DVRing lately. I also cooked a lot. I even tried my hand at making cinnamon rolls using a recipe from Food Network that was supposed to be like Cinnabon. My friend's young son pronounced them "yummy," so I think that means they turned out pretty good! The second half of the week I did a lot of sitting on my couch reading a Pat Conroy novel while watching the Masters. This means I felt extraordinarily Southern. I had originally thought about going somewhere for Spring Break, and I even tossed around the idea of going on a solo minivacation (I figured it was the next step up from going to the movies alone) as a way to celebrate being single. But, in the end, I decided that staying home and not seeing another person for two whole days was the way to go (my roommate was visiting her family). For a boring introvert like me, it was amazing! I am now feeling fabulously refreshed, so I should start getting into some interesting things again that will be blogworthy.

Surprise! It's My Birthday!

I was slightly tempted to take today off school because it's my birthday, but I'm glad I didn't. I totally racked up. And by that I mean I got one birthday rap and two surprise birthday parties! Thanks students!! Perhaps the cutest thing was the massive party that my last class planned for me. And by massive, I mean they all brought food--there were cupcakes, brownies, cookies, doughnuts, Star Crunches, cookie cake, chips, cheese doodles, and drinks. They even remembered to bring plates and cups! They were so pleased with themselves--and I acted completely surprised--just like I didn't notice them being sneaky and passing each other a sign-up sheet yesterday. It was adorable! They may not do schoolwork, but they can party plan!

Happy Birthday!

To me! One reason I'm glad to be single is that it gives me an excuse to buy myself great presents on holidays (Christmas, Valentine's Day, my Birthday, I'm thinking about an Easter gift this year).

Tomorrow I'm turning 26. Or as someone pointed out to me at school today, I'm on the "thirty side of the twenties." She said it like it was some great thing. All it did was make me want to wear head-to-toe black tomorrow.

I probably won't (mainly because I bought myself a fab new birthday dress), but if I did, it would highlight my Birthday gift to myself, which arrived today.

I think that women in general have started to think that nice jewelry should only come their way in the form of a gift from a boy. Well, I decided that was wrong. Why should I sit around and wait for some guy to come along and buy me jewelry when he probably wouldn't pick out something I liked anyway? (After all, not all men have Richard Gilmore's perfect taste in jewelry.) I decided to buy myself jewelry for my birthday. I'm going to be 26, so it's time I stopped waiting for a guy to buy it anyway. And I decided that any jewelry wasn't good enough-I needed something from Tiffany's.

Let me just start by saying that the entire online shopping experience at Tiffany's is unlike any other. The customer service e-mail confirming my order was maybe the most courteous e-mail I've ever received. My package arrived today, so I ran by my house on the way to computer class to pick it up. I had a quick moment in my car during which I tore open the box and unfolded the tissue paper to reveal my lovely blue box. With its lovely white bow. Inside was a lovely blue pouch that contained my lovely new necklace, which I promptly put on and wore to computer class. I must say, it made me feel rather fabulous.

Call me materialistic or a label snob, I really don't care right now--my necklace and I are very happy together.