Too Cool for School


A Right Decision

I'm eating cinnamon donuts right now, which should equal happiness. Alas, it does not. Life is changing so fast, and though I love change, it doesn't come without a cost. We are always gaining and losing at the same time. My nephew Cole graduated from high school this weekend, and it hurts us all a little to know that he's about to go into a world that will inevitably be a tough place at times. This reminds me of God's decision to let us go out into the world with complete free will. That's love.
I cleaned out my classroom this evening. It was time. Using my plastic art supplies cart as a dolly, I rolled several boxes down the long hallway and to the parking lot. Funny; as I was rolling out the last box, my ipod played the perfect song. And just as the last chord of the song played, the door of the school shut behind me. I thought, with satisfaction, that this was the first time I'd really felt that I'd made the right decision. After all, I hadn't exactly done all that I set out to do. I failed...a lot, and who knows if I taught anybody anything at all. People can tell you that teachers make a difference, but there are many days, weeks, months, where everything you say and do as a teacher gets lost of the shuffle and it feels like you're not doing any good. That's any job, come to think of it. Most of us struggle with wondering if we're really making the right choice. So many times I've prayed for an answer but God hasn't given me an "ultimatum" exactly, "Go here, Do this". I so wanted him to, but that hasn't been his way of handling things so much of the time. In the past, I might make a choice and then fail the first time I tried. I somehow thought that failure was God's way of telling me I went the wrong way. Maybe it is, in some cases, but who am I to think that failure isn't supposed to be part of the process of getting where I'm going? So I have to choose, and know that whatever I choose and wherever I go, I'll also choose to serve God. That's what I did this time.

Back to the cart. Just as I got it outside the door, I breathed a sigh, "It's all downhill from here", I half-thought. And it was. I wheeled the cart down the handicap ramp and toward my car. But right in the middle of the ramp, the cart just stopped. A wheel came off. The sides buckled and came unhinged, a drawer stuck out. This was one of those infernal carts designed to come apart when you need it to--and apparently when you don't need it to. What was this about? It was too heavy and cumbersome to carry. All I could do was take it apart, piece by piece, and put it into my car. As I did this it occurred to me that I never would've gotten it into my car any other way. If I'd tried to shove it in whole, it probably would've broken anyway and then my papers would've spilled all over the parking lot.

I laughed, got into my car, and drove to Target where I bought a paper shredder and some cinnamon donuts.


Almost Done...

Four more days of school left.
Four more days of school left.

Here's a new picture of Kaiden! I finally got to see him this weekend. I got to hold him and play with him. He was a little cranky because he's teething, but that's ok. You'd think I'd never seen a baby before.

And, oh yeah, Kim and I have a new apartment. We need strong people to help us move. Any takers?


Some nights, when I'm full of feeling, I have thoughts of this play I'm going to write. I'm not supposed to tell you about it because with writers there's a superstition that if you tell it before you write it then you've sort of "quenched the fire", then you'll never write it. Madeleine L'Engle thinks that we don't create art, art finds us and asks us to make it, like a holy calling. And if we don't, we've failed to take up that calling. I don't know if she's right but when I look at the way God uses people and things to carry out his will, I believe it. Not in a completely literal sense. I'm a theatre chick. It makes sense to me.
Someday, I will finish it. It may not even be good, or worthy of being published. But it has to be written. It won't leave me alone until I write it.


The Stink

Everything stinks. Not in a figurative sense. My house, my car, my classroom--they smell. Now, my classroom has to stink. You've got 130 youngsters in and out of it daily, many of whom brag about getting up at 7:40 and still making the bus...especially one boy who the other kids call "Lactate" . (Elasha, are you eating?) My apartment is a little musty. My allergies were giving me heck last week, so I kept my windows shut up. And anytime I cook anything, in that small of a space, my whole apartment smells like a biscuit for days at a time. But my car? It smells like I've loaned it to a fishmonger. Honestly! I looked back in the backseat. My Mom had given me several boxes so that I could start packing my stuff for the big move next month. All I can think of is that perhaps the boxes had absorbed some sort of rank-skank odor and now, in the heat of the midday sun, that stench was being reabsorbed by my car. Actually, I am probably just realizing how much in my life stinks because for the first time in two weeks, I'm not congested! Maybe allergies weren't such a bad thing.

Here are some things that I've been doing lately that I really recommend:
Pride and Prejudice soundtrack (it's a great stress reliever)
Dark chocolate (It's got health it's chocolate)
Not doing your laundry until you absolutely have to.
Buying gas in Burleson. It's the cheapest place in the Metroplex.
Watching Abbott & Costello movies. So funny!
Wearing dangly earrings and red lipstick to work.
Telling children/coworkers exactly what you need--in a kind way. It puts everybody on the same page.

Things I don't recommend:
Watching Nightline. Eventually they'll do a report that water causes cancer, then we'll all be in trouble.
Forgetting your church clothes and buying new ones at Target without trying them on first. Let's just say everyone at church got an eyefull.
Giving people the opportunity to use glitter. It's impossibly messy, and some students steal the glitter tubes to use as crackpipes.


The Blogginator

You can call me "The Constant Bloggener". I blog too much. But it's because I turned on my tv and there was the Bird Flu Death Movie. Not going to watch that! I was just thinking about Cole, my nephew who is sick. You don't understand how much I love this kid. He was born when I was six, and I wanted him to be my little brother. When he was three he got some mysterious disease that frightened us all but just turned out to be a rare but treatable disease. Then he ran into a telephone booth when he was six at a baseball game. He had to get stitches on his head. He played quarterback for his high school team, even though he has knees that didn't develop normally. He would come home after every game hurting and with ice packs on both knees. That didn't stop him from leading the team in rushing. As a child, he wouldn't wear shirts with buttons and he would entertain himself for hours by saying bathroom words to himself and then laughing. You'd be sitting in in the front seat of thea car and hear a little voice: "Poop!" (giggle giggle giggle), " Fart!" (giggle giggle). I have stories like this about all my nephews and nieces. And then my sister let me live with her for a summer so I could get a theatre job. I got my wish because Cole and Lindy were like my little siblings.
Kids are such a blessing. Some people, I believe, are afraid of having them because of the vast potential for loss. Did you watch Desperate Housewives last week? Bree, fed up with her son's truly devilish behavior, drove him to the middle of nowhere, abandoning him with a duffel bag full of clothing and an envelope with some money. She told him, "I just don't think I can be around you anymore." I'm not advocating that show or anything, it's just that every parent dreads their child either dying or making really horrible choices. Some days I want children; others I do not. A child means we die to self, because that’s what it takes to take care of this tiny, helpless creature. And we don’t want to die. Oh, but we do. We don’t like the way things are. We want to give love, not just receive it.
Anyway, Cole. I'm proud of him, no matter what he does, right or wrong. He's my make-believe little brother.



Please pray for my nephew, Cole. He's had a terrible case of the flu and now his throat, mouth, and lips are covered in blisters. It's agonizing for him to eat or drink anything but if he doesn't he won't get any better. He's graduating from high school in a couple of weeks.

Thanks. We appreciate it.


Dream Jobs

I found this while cleaning out old files on my hard drive. I think it's about a year old. What do you want to be when you grow up?

My Dream Jobs:

-a doorkeeper in the house of God.
-a performance artist
-a jazz vocalist
-a writer for Boundless webzine
-a director of all kinds of plays for at least two theatres: one educational, one professional.
-a paid, professional dramaturge
-a grad student, if I can study Theatre or arts administration.
-an acting teacher who gives workshops at college and professional theatre programs.
-a roadie for a Christian rock band.
-a Nanny, part time, but full time on family vacations to exciting places!
-an agent for any one of my soon-to-be famous nephews or nieces.
-anything by day/actress by night.
-a strong woman of God. When I am older, younger women will come to me for Spiritual advice.
-a liaison between brilliant artists and the public.
-someone who reads fan mail of a famous person.
-someone who just goes and visits people who need a friend.
-a mother. The kind that believes in lots of hugs, listening, and if necessary, spankings.
-a missionary.
-someone who can actually bring food to the hungry people, not just send money to buy food.
-the wife of a man who likes a good challenge in the name of Christ.
-someone who is honest in everything.


Death by Neti Pot

I've gone and gotten myself a mid-spring sinus infection.

On channel 8 news they reported about a new invention called a Neti Pot. A neti pot is an irrigation system for your sinuses in which you pour salt water in one nostril and it comes out the other nostril, as seen in the picture below. Unable to find a Neti Pot at my local pharmacy, I decided to make my own Neti Pot. After all, it's just a watering can for your face. I mixed up some salt water--very strong--and began pouring it down my left nostril. But nothing came out the other side. And then...
Misery of life! It felt like my skull was on fire! It was like being stung by a jellyfish in the face and then drowing in the ocean! Still nothing came out the other nostril. I drank a lot of water, blew my nose, pain, pain, pain!

How can people do this everyday? One website describes it thus:

"People practice Neti on a daily basis to help keep their sinuses clean and to make their breathing easier and more free. Once they try it, most people find Neti to be a soothing and pleasant experience."

Everyday? Soothing? Pleasant! That's like saying you will enjoy stabbing yourself in the arm with a butter knife everyday to cure eczema. Someday, you may become desperate and use a Neti Pot. When you do, I want to be there to take your picture. Quotes