That Rita Chick
Lauren's wedding is officially canceled, but will probably be rescheduled for next week (Oct. 1). Rats. That mean old Hurricane Rita. The name Rita never really appealed to me, and now I know why.
Sorry, L-train. I love ya, and I think you've been a really good sport about all of this.
Maybe Hurricane Rita will go as far north as Austin, completely wiping out the University of Texas, who will have already evacuated, but alas, will no longer be able to compete in the Big 12 conference. Any hopes they might have had will be destroyed by a rampant outbreak of...athlete's foot.
You Never Know What Might Be.
Did you know about Lauren's wedding this weekend? It's in HOUSTON! And Hurricane Rita might hit Houston. So, as you can probably tell, it might get canceled. Stay tuned for further details.
Don't you think these lyrics are fitting just now?
"We Build" by Nicole Nordeman
It's bigger than we thought
It's taller than it oughta be,
this pile of rubble and ruin.
The neighbors must talk.
It's the worst yard on the block
just branches and boards where walls stood.
Did it seem to you,
like the storm just knew
we weren't quite finished with the roof?
But it started.
So we build,
we build,
we clear away what was
and make room for what will...
You hold the nails,
I'll take the hammer,
I'll hold it still if you'll climbthe ladder,
and if you will,
then I will build.
God makes good days, too.
Alright, so it's harder for me to catch sometimes. My eyes and my heart often let these things just slip right past. But my God makes good days, too. He smiles at me and winks. Like today, when I thought I'd lost my id but it was really just in my purse. Or when my tech theatre class--everyday I harp, "Get to work! Get to work! Get to work!" ...got to work. And the platforms we built were just the right height. And the stage manager is good at math and straightens out my measurement errors. And I didn't spill lunch on my new shirt. Our football team almost won. God takes care of me. He loves me! I just know it. When I said "football team" I did not mean OU. Sadly, OU lost to UCLA 41-24. I know this is going to sound really petty, but maybe 
something will happen to Texas before they play OU. Like, maybe all of the Longhorns get athlete's foot (I think they probably have it anyway). I don't want to hear my Dad yell "You buncha bums!" at the refs on tv.
Me and my Rhino Buddy
Tonight, I wonder if I'll ever stop working. I don't mean retiring, getting fired, quittting and sponging off society of anything like that. I just wonder if I'll ever stop going and doing things. It always seems like I do too much. I keep my mind in a flurry until I feel like my brain's about to burst. And yes, it's because of the job. (Theatre teachers never stop!) But honestly, I don't get in the Word enough and really talk to God about what's bothering me until it's too late, and trouble is sitting on me like a big giant rhinoceros, squashing me, and I'm screaming, "I can't breathe!" This really makes teaching sound fun, doesn't it? Seriously, this could be anybody, not just a teacher. It ain't easy being a career girl.
On a happier note, I really like those sugar-free iced oatmeal cookies. I got them for my Mom because she's diabetic, and I ended up eating most of them myself. If they weren't more expensive than regular cookies, I think I'd make the switch. So..you should try 'em!
Did you know why I decided to get this blog? It's because nobody has enough minutes on their cell phones to hear all of these stories. Not all of them are shared. Some of the more personal ones are not, because our school has an infamous history of teachers and students who got in trouble for sharing a little too much info on Xanga. I don't want to be the next casualty. You'd have to call me for that stuff. But the spitwad stories are on the house.
The New "S" Word
Ok, I really should be doing something right now that ISN’T this. I need to write seven lesson plans for the next week, create worksheets, or just, hey, just go to bed because I need sleep! Fridays are my worst teaching days, decidedly. I think it’s because I have to wear the same shirt as everyone else. (Teachers wear purple jerseys on Fridays.) So what am I doing here, now, typing? It’s because I don’t get to. And why is it the things we don’t get to do are so alluring? Writing is great, writing is special! If I could only get my 10th graders to realize that. Writing is proving that your life really happened, that it wasn’t a figment of somebody’s imagination. And writing is putting something out there that people might read—voluntarily! So why does writing seem like a punishment? I ache to be understood, and I think that most people do. Hey, maybe I could give that speech to my classes. Do you think it might work?
It’s true. I think of nothing but school now. I’m one of “those teachers”. This is what I do now…write for entertainment, and it’s all about SCHOOL! (Sigh)
Big Girls Don't Cry
I need to write, because if I don’t, I’m going to drive everyone around me crazy with my constant venting. They must think that nothing ever goes well for me. Well, it does. It’s just that so much of what I do everyday is hard. Ok, so everyone’s life is hard. I found out last night that my brother Chris’s schedule is much worse than mine ever hoped to be. He gets up at 4 am and drives 30 miles to work in a powder blue Honda Civic hatchback, which he bought to save money on gas. (What does driving a hatchback do to a cowboy like him?) He often doesn’t get home until about 7 or 8 o’clock at night. Could be later, depending on the work schedule. When he does get home, he can’t take a shower because their town (in rural New Mexico) is on a water table, which means there are only two times a day you can get water, and the rest of the day it’s turned off. Neither of those times is while he’s at home, so he bathes from a bucket. He says he can clean up with about 2 gallons of water, easy. He wasn’t complaining; he likes his job. I’d be finding another job! He says he might try to drill a well, but he needs the tools. So that’s my prayer tonight; that my brother, who works so hard, could find a way to get more water. Not just for himself, but to bless his neighbors as well. I think that would add a lot of sunshine to everyone’s lives out there. Wouldn’t make his job easier, but he would feel really proud of that, I know he would. My brother likes to help people. And who doesn’t? That makes me think of school again…Oh, school. My head begins to pound. I cried at school twice today: Once in dance class when everything seemed to go bad, and the second time after my technical theatre class when I yelled at a student. I hate yelling. They hate yelling even more. It’s really a bad choice. But sometimes, it’s the only card in my deck.
