Too Cool for School

The New Blog

2006-10-16T21:28:00.000-05:00

I have a new blog now. This one is dead. I will not post here anymore. So you have my permission to stop checking it, unless you just want to.

the new blog: www.hmamend.blogspot.com

And, yes, it will have pictures of my feet on it as well.

Say your goodbyes....

2006-10-08T23:22:00.000-05:00

Well guys, I guess all good things must come to an end. (I hope it's been good). It's something I've been considering for a long time, but just a minute ago, my blog kicked me off right in the middle of trying to post something. I'd written a ton of stuff already and now it's all gone! (ADD readers rejoice!)

So what I'm saying is, I'm getting a new blog. This one will still be here, a monument to my first year of teaching. It's good to clog cyberspace, isn't it? But this one kicks people off at random times, and I think it's somehow messed up. SOOOO.... Yeah.

Since I'm not going to very well call it, "Too Cool for School 2", what do you think I should name it? Nothing about randomness or ridiculousness, guys. That's a GIVEN.

I guess you can't really tell me what to name it, since the blog won't let anybody except Chris Chappotin leave comments. :(

Thoughts on Food, Test Scores

2006-10-05T16:33:00.000-05:00

Ok, I admit my tagline, "Cook 'em, Sooners!" was a bit disgusting...and corny. After all, three of UT's fans are really nice: Rick, Bethany, and Brittany from my school. But you know me and puns. AND, if OU wins, I think that my Dad, Kim, and any other OU groupies should all go out and have a big steak. If OU does not win, I will go to Chick Fil A, and console myself by saying, "Oh well, at least we will beat OSU." My nephew Kurt, who's in grad school at OSU, would probably be mad if he read my blog, which he doesn't. I wonder how he's doing anyway? Did you guys know I had a nephew who's only one year younger than me? We used to compete to see who had the better standardized test scores. He surpassed me, getting a 32 (of 36 possible) on his ACT. Smarty pants. He'd probably be mad if he read that., but he doesn't read my blog.
You read my blog, though. I'll bet some of you are even UT fans and you read my blog. Isn't life funny, that way?

Today, I decided to eat lunch off campus. I felt a little uneasy at first, like a mother the first time she leaves her baby with a sitter. But when I walked outside, the smell of processed chicken fried steaks greeted me...it was definitely the right choice. I don't know how you feel about cafeteria food, but I like to pretend there is no cafeteria at our school. That way, when I forget to bring my lunch, I don't have to consider eating at it. My last school had a pretty good cafeteria, but my new school's food reminds me my middle school in Oklahoma, home of, "You mix it, you eat it." In other words, if you mixed your food together to gross people out, you'd have to eat it in plain sight of a teacher. I am SO GLAD my school doesn't make me do food-mixing duty. I have better things to do than to skalk around the cafeteria making kids eat their nasty concoctions.

We can quite possibly perhaps win!

2006-10-04T21:14:00.000-05:00

Beef: It's what's for dinner.

October 2nd: National Bad Music Day

2006-10-02T14:38:00.000-05:00

Did you know that today was National Bad Music Day? Me neither, but it is, according to my roommate. Kim and I went to get lunch and some groceries, and every song on the radio was dismally bad. I'm not talking about songs from last year that were overplayed. No, these are the kinds of cds that haven't seen the light of day since they dropped off the charts in 1993. Even in the office of our apartment complex, the weak tunes just kept on rollin'. I'd name them, but I don't know their titles. That's how bad they are. It got so bad that we tuned into NPR and listened to an interview of the man holding the world record for longest fingernails. "The women found me disgusting!" he exclaimed. The man had to have a translator, and I thought it was an episode of Borat at first.

So, if you want to have a good day, just stick to your ipod. Or, if you dare, turn on the radio and hear Madonna croon, "Star light! Star bright! First star I see tonight!"

I leave you with a picture of Jacob's ladder, the new sculpture at ACU. I remember seeing models of it back when I was still there. Amazing in person...you have to see it.

Corruption?

2006-09-27T17:31:00.000-05:00

Hey all. I've been having some trouble navigating my own blog. Others have told me that they had some trouble leaving comments. I was about to say, "If you're having some trouble leaving comments, leave a comment!" But oh, I'm too smart for that. So if you're having trouble leaving a comment, just leave a comment on my Myspace. It'll keep people who don't read my blog guessing.

News on my Dad: Yesterday, the heart doctor hooked him up to a 24-hour monitor, which looks like a battery pack with little stickies that go all over his chest. He is supposed to act and move normally. This is encouraging because if something's up with his heart, at least they'll know. It really feels like the doctors are taking his case seriously. It's not that they weren't before, but when they don't know what's wrong, it's kind of discouraging.

Speaking of discouragement, I've been debating whether I agree with Oswald Chambers when he writes, "Discouragement is just disillusioned self-love". Any thoughts, yay or nay? I'm not sure. Oswald Chambers loves words more than I do. It can be hard to get his meaning sometimes. The quote, of course, is from My Utmost for His Highest.

Today I went to Starbucks and got a pumpkin spice latte. It was ok, didn't change my life. But I just wanted to warn you, it's the only coffee I've ever had...that's orange.

I have a lot more to say, but I have to go cook for myself. Why can't myself cook for me? (don't laugh, the joke is not funny.)

Let me be wrong

2006-09-19T21:57:00.000-05:00

Do you ever wonder why, when we're most wrong, most off-base about something, that we fight for it even more? Or at least, that's my habit. I know that when I get upset about something, tired, sick, or hurt that I'm probably going to perceive everything through those eyes. Try being upset, tired, sick, and hurt all in the same week. It's irrationality at its best. But even though I'm dead wrong, I still expect people to listen to what I have to say? Am I alone in this?

I have to admit that a big problem for me this week is that I've been upset about my father. He hasn't been feeling well, and the doctors don't know why. They've discovered it isn't his heart, but in the meantime, they're just taking stabs in the dark, giving him various blood pressure medications and telling him to keep going. It's just a mix of feelings for me, because he's probably going to be fine. But he's 83. One day I will have to be without him in my life. Everyone has to face this at some time or another. It's part of life. I can't be angry or upset really, because he's 83. Think of how healthy he is, or has been for so long. I'll always be grateful for that.

And school is just hard right now. Hard, hard, hard! SO worth it though. Like every one of God's gifts.

Maybe blogging is a very impersonal way to share stuff. But it's easier to write it than say to a big room of people, "Hey guys, I'm really afraid my Dad is sick."

Thanks for...listening.

Caffeine-Free

2006-09-18T18:03:00.000-05:00

I wish I could write something meaningful today. Tried last night, but all I came up with was sort of empty. Right now I'm listening to Emo music trying to choose songs for scene changes. My students don't know it yet, but we're doing After Juliet for our one-act play competition. It's not UIL, mind you, just a districtwide competition. The play is written in a modern context, and totally geared toward rockstar culture. This music depresses me. Give me some Jack Johnson! I'll probably end up liking the music. I always get drawn into different cultures and history because of whatever play we're working on. Last spring it was the 1970's, the year before that, British-ruled India. That's the fun of theatre: you learn by immersion.
I got my hair cut on Saturday by a beautiful man. He was beautiful not just because he was good-looking (He was--very), but because he encouraged me and others. Everybody needs encouragement when they're about to have someone mutilate their tresses. I have crazy layers now. The layers I had before--childsplay. Trick is, can I actually style my hair like the they did in the salon? Probably not. You may see me next in a ponytail.
Today at school, I was grumpy. Grumpy because my nose is all stopped up and I didn't have a diet coke. After four years of caffeine-free living, I became readdicted to caffeine, and now I'm trying to quit cold turkey. So far, three days. You probably couldn't call it sobriety, since the lack of caffeine turns me into a zombie. Well, anyway.

Ok, I've thought of something meaningful. As I said, this was a rough morning. My kids were doing a self-starter assignment, but none of them self-started today. They just sat there. That's probably my biggest pet-peeve as a teacher--that fake helplessness that kids feign to get you to do the work for them. When the fifth child asked me why my stapler didn't work properly, I wanted to staple myself to the wall. It's the kind of madness from which there is seemingly no escape. Finally, the bell rang and I spent my conference reading 1 Peter 5 for a bible study I attend on Thursdays. AND LOOK AT THIS!

"Be shepherds of God's flock, that is under your care, serving as overseers--not because you must, but because you are willing...not lording over those entrusted to you, but being examples to those entrusted to you. And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away."
1 Peter 5: 3 & 4

This is probably aimed at Elders, but to any leader, it means a lot. It reminds me that I'm helpless and whiney sometimes, but God always treats me with care and firm discipline. He doesn't yell at me for being a sheep, even though sheep are pretty unwise creatures.

So there you have it...something good. Baa.

My room is a mess and I don't care!

2006-09-12T20:57:00.000-05:00

If you walk inside, you'll see my duvet cover, lying half-strewn across the ironing board. A pile of naked pillows is stacked on my ottoman. There are unidentified, possibly important papers on top of my computer desk (along with my old, usurped computer and my already-paid bills. I can't find my favorite lipstick. It's 8:53, which means one thing: it's my bedtime. Boy, am I glad to have a roommate, but I sometimes hate that she's right about the fact that I'm not getting enough sleep. So I'm about to go to bed. Am I tired? Probably. But it's really hard for me to admit that. This morning at school I was on lunchroom duty when a couple of 8th grade boys decided they would like to fight. Where does anyone get the energy to start a fight in the cafeteria at 7 am? Sheesh! I threw my diminuitive self in front of one of them, a normally good-natured but very large student of mine. I tried holding him back. He weighs over 300 pounds. The boy he was "fighting" was taunting him with comments that my student was too fat to fight right. It took me and several other students to hold the boys apart. After what seemed like an eternity, a male teacher came in and took the threatening student to the office. My student followed, livid. No punches were thrown. Later, the teacher came and told me I shouldn't have tried to hold them back, and that I shouldn't put myself in any danger. I'm just wondering how I could do that? I guess I'm just one of those people who tries to jump in the big middle of things. Sometimes that's right, sometimes it's not. The day wore on, and my sleep deprivation was causing me troubles. I kept stuttering while giving directions during class. Kim, you're right. I need to go to bed now. Stalling is what I'm doing! Shee!

Little Ryan

2006-09-10T16:01:00.000-05:00

I'm so excited to share these pictures. World, meet Christopher Ryan Chappotin.

Look at that bebe! Gotta love those September kids.

There is not a sweeter family than this one. Congratulations, guys. God bless.

MYSPACE: A conspiracy Theory

2006-09-08T23:26:00.000-05:00

I have a myspace.

I mean, come on....it's a myspace. Who cares, right? Just one little myspace won't hurt. I can stop anytime I want. DON'T JUDGE ME!!!

Anyway, I was online two and a half hours ago, right before roomie and I started watching Akeela and the Bee. I didn't really log off, but then, it usually logs off for me...sometimes, when I just visit another website. Well, I just got back on the internet to get some directions to the dance studio I'm visiting tomorrow morning. Couldn't help but take a sneaky-peak I DIDN'T HAVE TO but I did...check my... Myspace. And it says I am still logged on.

DANG, GINA! I logged that sucker off. I can't have people see me like this, a desperate girl at home Friday night, hopelessly online, on pointe, on myspace. Waiting for someone to drop me a courtesy comment. No, sir! I logged OFF!

I checked it again, a minute ago.

It says I'm still online.

So, I guess you want to leave me a comment? That's fine. Just type my name in the search bar. But don't, I reapeat, don't under any circumstances stop reading this blog. Myspace is only so I can drop people little comments like, "Hey girl! Heeeyyyy!" and so I can see what my ex-boyfriends are up to. That's all.

I can stop whenever I want. But I'm not quitting until I get at least 1,000 friends.

Easy To Love

2006-09-04T16:51:00.000-05:00

Shee, we're all so different. It becomes apparent anytime I go shopping with my friends, who share so much with me, but definitely hone in on different things. I like it that way, because when we were in Half Price Books, there was this one woman who kept getitng in my way everytime I was shopping in a book area. The store is divided up into little alcoves: Art, history, cooking, gardening, etc, etc, etc. At any rate, I was digging through the performing arts section, and she was there. In the drama section, she was there. I had to go to the Religious section to get away from her. (Ok, that's not WHY I went to the religion. I was looking for Donald Miller, but who sells back a Donald Miller book? Nobody!) Anyway, I know she felt the same way about me, judging by the huffing sounds she made as I dove for a Shakespeare anthology right in front of her. I should have met her, asked her if she knew where I could find plays for middle school kids. Plays for middle school kids...that's another blog entry I don't want to make. Keanu Reeves probably got his start in middle school plays, which to me explains everything. I'm so tacky.

I wanted to make a corny list of things I love. Not because anyone cares, but just in case we have something strange in common. I've decided to call said list,

IT'S EASY TO LOVE THESE THINGS (STRANGE OR NOT):
artichokes
polka dots
big buttons
reading children's books and making up voices for the characters
pomengranate juice
avocados straight out of the peel, with a spoon
tap dancing
writing parody songs about people I know
chicken sausage and turkey tacos
dyeing clothes
cleaning my bathroom sink (it looks so shiny!)
Blogging (apparently not fun to a lot of people)

What about you? What's something you like that others might find a little strange?

Marcus the Robot

2006-08-30T17:19:00.000-05:00

God has blessed us. We got rain, and lots of it in a 48-hour span. The temperatures have dropped, and with it the gas prices. At least, the gas prices on our side of town. On my way to work each morning, I pass about four gas stations that have reasonable prices Anyway, I have named this corner of city "Little Burleson", because the gas prices are so low. Burleson has the cheapest gas around, usually a good 15 - 20 cents below what it is everywhere else in the metroplex. If gas is so cheap in Dallas, I bet it's really cheap in Burleson. Ok, enough about gas.
For the past...eternity...my theatre classes have been working on their talk shows. The talk shows are designed so that students get a taste of acting without having to memorize a script, and we all get to know a lot of random facts about each other. . Yesterday, a kid named *Marcus brought a robot costume for his talk show. The costume was pretty genius, actually, a couple of boxes, some piping, antennae, the works. Once Marcus had wiggled into his costume, however, it became apparent that he had last worn this costume in 2nd grade. Marcus finally waddled onto the stage and tried to read his script as the talk-show host, but could not see because his head was too big. He refused help, so I got to watch the kid host a talk show with one lens of his glasses hanging out the mouth hole, and the other shoved into the back of the robot head. Classic. I sent a total of seven kids to afgter school dentention this week (It's Wednesday now), and one to the principal's office. Here are their offenses:

Kid #1: Talking uncontrollably
Kid #2: Talking uncontrollably and made comment that he wanted to "Go for the boobies" in a theatre game where he was wearing a blindfold.
Kid #3: Dropped the "F" bomb in casual conversation.
Kid#4: Talking uncontrollably, didn't do classwork, ignored warnings.
Kid #5: Harasssing Kid #4.
Kid #6: Yelled "S*&%" in front of the whole class at 7:30 am after being poked in the stomach.
Kid #7: Reading a hotrod magazine in class and, when asked to stop, told me he could do whatever he felt like doing, gosh. He was sent to the office for flipping me off after I gave him detention.

But for every detention I give out, there are ten kids that deserve to get let out of school early because they're behaving great. Like Marcus, and his too-small robot costume.

How Lucky am I?

*As always, names have been changed to protect the innocent.

2006-08-22T06:08:00.000-05:00

"Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am. " Philippians 4:13 (The Message)

Sophomore

2006-08-21T17:07:00.000-05:00

Today was the first day of my second year, but the amount of wisdom I have at my disposal now compared to last year...no comparison.

Last year:
Wore my new pretty wrap-around sweater with my favorite black trousers and cute heels. Tried to appear as put-together as possible while dropping piles of paper as I walked across the room.

This year:
Wore the same khaki pants I always wear...and tennis shoes. Skipped the paper handouts that I knew would end up in the trash. Conveyed my basic expectations while getting close enough to their faces for them to smell my breath.

Last year:
Brought my lunch and didn't get to eat it.

This year:
Had a double-decker oatmeal cream pie and a diet coke for lunch while walking around the cafeteria, reminding students they needed to sit where we tell them to.

Last year:
Sat in meetings and daydreamed, imagining that if I really needed to know this information, I could ask a coworker.

This year:
Sat in meetings and daydreamed, knowing that they had already e-mailed the information three times.

Last year:
Tried to look scary with mean facial expressions.

This year:
Tried to be myself, which is scary in its own way.

Last year:
Working under the rule, "Don't smile until Christmas".

This year:
Working under the rule, "Approach a student like you like them".

Last year:
Flirted with cute coach in the copy room.

This year:
Told Coach Hottie to hurry up so I could use the copy machine.

And that's the difference between being a first year teacher and a second year teacher.

I'm Not Afraid

2006-08-17T20:54:00.000-05:00

Tonight, I passed out schedules to the sixth graders. It was a special night at our school, when the kids could come and try out their locker combinations, find all of their classes,and meet some of their teachers. I realized that they are much more afraid of me than I am of them. They're eleven! Some of them haven't lost all of their baby teeth. They've never used a locker before, and our school is a confusing maze of up and down-only staircases and identical hallways. Even I can't find the teacher's lounge most of the time. I don't blame them for being afraid. Helping them deal with their fears causes me to forget my own fear that junior high kids will be too rowdy and immature for me to deal with. Right now, they look like innocents. Of course, they are not totally innocent.

My classroom will soon be permeated with the smell of Axe body spray.

There will be nose-picking...

Doodling in class...

And it's been proven that adolescents often have the same type of emotional responses as an adults who are mentally ill.**

But I LIKE CRAZY!!

that's how I roll.

*Something they told us in teacher inservice.

Condolences

2006-08-13T23:22:00.000-05:00

I would just like to offer my condolences to all of the teachers who start school tomorrow. I don't start school for a whole week! But come early next June, when I'm still in school and you're not, well, who's gonna be laughing then?

I'd also like to let everyone know that my niece Lindy is in good condition (as good as could be expected) after an emergency appendectomy yesterday. They're keeping her in the hospital until later this week because the appendix did rupture and that kind of thing causes infections. She's in pain from the surgery and she won't eat now, but you can count on my sister to make sure she gets taken care of. Actually, the one we should be praying for is my sister because she's got to go back to school this week, too (She's a P.E. teacher). All of this has made me SO glad that we live in a time when we can have emergency appendectomies. Lindy's is so precious to all of us. How can I describe it? Something like an appendix bursting could be deadly, right? But now doctors deal with it and it's completely routine. I'm so glad that she's going to be alright.

Everyone in Burleson--great to see you again! Looks like the new church is working out great. Hang in there, everyone. You're in my prayers.

Things we do to stay out of trouble

2006-08-09T23:11:00.000-05:00

I was in Starbucks tonight, completely surrounded by smart people. Being there, I felt, well, smart. I could've felt dumb, but chose not to. There were a couple of guys from India beside me, and they spoke Indian half of the night, and English the other. Well, I'm not really sure you could call it English. It was more like mathematical jargon mumbo-jumbo, something about IE = IC. Honestly, they said the word "pi" a lot. I really think that's the only time I've ever been out to a restaurant and heard people conversing happily about mathematical equations. Behind me sat a man with a laptop so technologically advanced it made my HP look like a peashooter. I don't know what he was writing, but he looked very happy about it. I bet he was typing an e-mail to all his friends, "I own got the most technologically advanced laptop in Starbucks!" You could tell he was smart because he wore glasses (A common misconception: that people who wear glasses are smart.) In front of me was a group of collegiates poring over a Macbook. They were editing a video, apparently for a class. And on the other side, another group of students, whining that this study session probably didn't cover all of the bases, but it was enough to get them an A. They also had laptops. But it was ok. I had my laptop, too! I didn't have to feel left out. If my laptop battery failed, though, I would probably have been kicked out of Starbucks for being too pedestrian.

My first real day of teacher inservice was spent in a lot of really boring meetings. Teachers are required to serve a certain number of inservice hours per year, and the districts like to eat those hours up with a lot of powerpoint presentations and passing out free pens. Today, I got a total of six different handbooks: A school handbook, a substitute teaching handbook, an gradebook handbook, a district handbook, safety handbook, and salary/benefits handbook. Do you think I will read them unless I need them? I don't even read the handbook for electronic devices that might burn my face off. Maybe that's unwise, but it's honest. Frankly, if I'm dumb enough to stand on a rolling chair on top of a desk and fall off the desk, then reading that handbook is not going to change anything. Not unless the handbook could break my fall.

We have to sign for every one of those handbooks saying that we got one and it was explained to us. All of this is so that we can never legally say, "I didn't know that!" and sue the district. Could you sue on the grounds that you didn't read your handbook because it was too boring?

God must be laughing at us a little bit, sometimes. The things we do.

What a Week!?

2006-08-05T13:10:00.000-05:00

What a week, yup! What a week! I could tell it was going to be busy, with me actually having to pencil in people who called me to hang out. I'm not bragging, because it wasn't all fun and games. Some of it was quite adult-responsible. Every night I had something, every day I was a little bit sore. For instance, this week I went rock climbing for the first time ever. I love it! If only it wasn't so expensive! Ask me about going sometime when you're bored. If I'm not broke, I will definitely be all over that. Also, I had some important talks with friends about missions at Skillman and my involvement there. Skillman is in the midst of a missions focus right now, and we've invited advice from ACU leaders as well as looking at our members' viewpoints, all culminating to a big meeting at the end of this month. It's something I'm praying about because we live in a city that needs change, in a country that needs change, in a world that needs change. To ignore any of those roles would be wrong, but to try to solve every problem might be wrong, too. Pray about it, and pray big! My viewpoint about missions has been shaped in part by my year spent at the Burleson church plant, Christ Journey. That was such a special ministry to be part of, and the Christ Journey is definitely a special place. I've brought church planting up to several members, including Robert and Alys, Charme, and others. I don't yet know how others feel about a church plant, (in the Village) but I'm interested to find out. That's been on my heart and I can't sleep at night.

Another reason I can't sleep at night is because last night was the elementary school lock-in at church. Lock in? That's a good name. Another good name would be, "All night candy buffet". At around 3 am, I spotted Riley unwrapping four mini tootsie roll pops and attempting to put them all in her mouth at the same time. (CAVITIEEEES!) Then, about 45 minutes later, I heard screaming out in the hallway. I arrived to find Angela gripping a bruise on the back of her knee, several little girls saying, "He didn't mean to hit you!" and our Riley, lying in the midst of it all, dead asleep. I later found out that someone had tried to squish Riley with a giant exercise ball while she was sleeping and that two kids had screamed in her ears. Riley hadn't budged. So much for the sugar rush. It was all over at about 7:30 am, when the last three little boys were picked up, just as guys started showing up for the men's prayer breakfast!

I did a lot this week, including going to my new classroom for the first time. Sadly, the room was a mess! I even found a few paper bags with the word, "Crack" legibly written in crayon in the side. Inside the bags were chalk dust, which spilled all over the floor when I opened them. When I told Renee she said, "Are you sure it wasn't really crack?" If it had been crack, what a great hiding place! Who knew that if you actually wrote the word, "Crack" on the bag, nobody would think it was really crack! Genious!

I'll have more about my classroom later. Until then, I leave you with this question: Did you ever have a boyfriend or girlfriend in elementary school? I ask this because there were two fourth graders at the lock-in who seemed very...close. Trying to remember that time in my life, I remember I was in love with this high school guy who played saxophone in the band and had a curly mullet. He used to tease me a lot when he saw me. He was a cousin of my friend Kristin. Everytime he teased me I'd hit him and give him a surly face, then say something sour. What he did not know is that I loooved him. Some 15 years later, the saxophone no longer appeals to me. A good mullet is hard to find. But one thing remains: (comment has been removed by its author)

Back in Black

2006-07-31T13:18:00.000-05:00

You missed it. I just threw a wall-eyed fit. The kind of fit that had me kicking my rhinestone flip flops across the room, jumping up and down, and making hissy-sounds. Why? Because I never took a class at ACU that taught me how to design webpages and write HTML, but stubbornly, I REFUSED to give up. I just succeeded in getting this template I downloaded to work, and now can I eat lunch. (Whew) I know for a fact this is why I never got a tatoo. I can't handle looking at the same thing all the time. That's why I changed my template. This was one of those downloadables that didn't come with the images already written in the HTML. The template designer carefully typed up directions for getting the template to work, and afterward, he put, "Easy, huh?" Yeah! Maybe for him it was easy. For me it was like quantum physics for dummies. Still, I learned a thing or two from this experience and am now a step closer to knowing what most 10th graders know about computers. '

You may notice some changes in my profile, too. I changed a few of my favorite musicians, plus, I deleted the line about liking "any sport in which the Texas Longhorns are getting beat". I don't want to be a hater! Yes, Texas is my least favorite team. I'm called to love all people, even those that I might not otherwise want to be friends with. Like Longhorn fans, people who write annoying car commercials, and the like. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go get myself some lunch. Throwing a hissy fit really worked up my appetite.

Don't be a hater!

Pas de deux

2006-07-25T16:50:00.000-05:00

Hey all...friends and anonymous readers. I've got a new laptop. Hooray! But as I've discovered, new laptops that don't come with Microsoft Office are disappointing. Should've gotten a Mac! They don't come with Office software and they aren't ashamed to admit it. Is it considered piracy if you borrow the setup discs from a friend? I already know the answer to that question. Right now I'm trying to decide if I like Gnarls Barkley or not. A lot of people seem to, seeing as how the song "Crazy" is the #1 download on Itunes. I think it's definitely a cool sound but do I like it? Ehh. I don't know yet. Gnarls Barkley may be an aquired taste like pomengranate juice. Or cheap whiskey mixed with cough syrup.

Have I told you that I'm taking ballet this summer? Who haven't I told? it's a course that I'm taking so that I can get certified to teach dance in schools. Even though I taught it last year at Alvarado, I wasn't certified, so my students couldn't get a P.E. credit. Hard to explain, but if you really want to know you can read up on the No Child Left Behind Act. Anyway, I love this class. My teacher is a British woman who has used to dance with the Royal Ballet company. She's been teaching in the states for 24 years. We have class 3 hours a day everyday for a month. It feels great to finally get ample exercise. To say that I've improved a lot is a gross understatement. At this time last year, I was completely new to ballet, joining the class at mid-semester and feeling like the biggest loser in ballet history. At any minute I expected one of the better dancers to turn to me and say, "Who let you in?" It was so bad that on several occasions I would leave class early so that I could run to the restroom and cry. Forget asking the teacher for help, because I was so lost I didn't even know which moves to ask for help on. Ballet is also a lovely vocabulary of hard-to-pronounce french words. By the end of the class, I'd learned two things:

1. "When in Doubt, turn out!" (The answer to any ballet question)
and 2. Just because you're good at gymnastics doesn't mean you'll be good at ballet.

I'd also like to mention that I took a hip-hop class right after ballet every day. That class was fun, and made me detest ballet even more. What right did ballet have to be the root of all dance, demanding perfection from all body parts? The truth is there are two kinds of dance in the world: ballet, and everything else. Jazz, modern, tap, and other dances are just formed by breaking the rules of ballet.

A year later, I'd consider myself one of the better dancers in my ballet class. It happened because I got a year of classes and crazy french vocabulary under my belt. I no longer cry in stall #3 or hide in the back of the room. And yesterday I noticed something else, something a little troubling. In class, I don't talk to anyone. Could be because ballet is so serious and takes a lot of concentration. Here we are, buns in our hair, noses held high enough to drown in the rain. But buns aside, honestly, I wonder what happened to the old me, the me that had to give myself a pep-talk before every class, the me that felt proud when I learned even one skill. The old me has been replaced with a more confident me. That's good. What's bad is that I can't remember what it felt like to be lost, so I am hardly an encouragement to the girls in my class who are lost. I've admitted that I wasn't such a hot dancer last year, but I wonder if they believe me. Last week, I was at the front of the class as we worked on our new routine. At one point, I messed up really bad, and everyone behind me messed up, too. They'd been following me...ME! Didn't they know that I hadn't been dancing long enough to lead? How could they be following my steps? I think that sometimes people will follow anyone who has confidence enough to stand at the front of the class. And they trust that person because it means they don't have to know the routine for themselves. I know this because I usually stand at the back of the class, my eyes concentrated on the feet of a better dancer.

Wow, another metaphor. It's amazing how everything can have spiritual implications. I apologize for always making metaphors. It's a theatre thing; you learn in directing class that every play has a metaphor and that's how you tell the story.

And now I'd like to clarify a few things about ballet: We don't wear tutus all the time. Tutus are only for big, Nutcrackeresque performances. Thank goodness.

It's also not cool to wear your leotard over your tights, as I learned last year. (That's so 1992. ) Instead you wear your tights over your leotard and a pair of ballet shorts (much like volleyball shorts) over that. Leg warmers are very fashionable, but nobody's really sure if/when to wear them since it's Texas and 100 degrees all the time. During the summer you can wear whatever ballet clothes you want, but in the school year it's black leotard, pink tights, pink ballet shoes. And by pink, I mean, "pale peach", which is a color that is only used in ballet because every other person in the world realizes that it is the most bland, unflattering shade of pink possible. It's a pink that is frequently used in bridesmaid's dresses and hospital lobby wallpaper. The color of the font is the best I could come up with.

Thank you for reading. I hope this has been as much fun for you as it has for me.

Bloggin' Blues

2006-07-21T00:23:00.000-05:00

Lately, I'm the lonliest blogger in town. I visit blogs only to find them neglected, abandoned, like ghost towns on an endless cyber prairie. My friend Elasha has converted to Myspace. We no longer have a very agreeable alternative! Now, with the approaching one-year anniversary of the last time Josue updated his blog, I'm beginning to wonder: Did blogging go out of style with jorts?

Me, myself, and God

2006-07-15T11:58:00.000-05:00

SELF.

It's a dirty word. Of course, I value your "self" and should value everyone's "self", including my own, but the last thing I want to do is spoil my "self" and let it rule over me. Hard to do. This morning I lay there in bed and my "self" said, "I don't care if I never wake up!" In the morning, I have no rationale, only inate impulses: hunger, sleepiness, grumpiness. It's been like that everyday this week. This same lack of common sense seems to hit me when I'm shopping, arguing with my Mom, or contemplating dessert foods. In those moments, I'll even cry out to God to help me think straight, remember what I really want, which is to do the right thing.

The thing to do would be to disengage for a moment, walk away. Exit The Gap before I have a chance to try on that cute sundress. I'm not a rampant shopper, mind you. This is just the scary feeling that sometimes takes hold of me, and I want it to stop.

I would love to send my flesh to an obedience school and have it come back perfectly trained. Problem is, wherever it is, so go my heart, soul, and mind. I'm attached to it, so whatever discipline I subject my flesh to, the rest of me has to endure as well.I'm not talking about spiritually or physically beating oneself up. I've read about Christians who would beat themselves, carry a cross all over town, and tie themselves on it (in a non-deadly way) around Easter every year in order to suffer with Christ. Granted, self-crucifixion is a little severe. But have you ever observed Lent? What about tithing to church? In certain cases, self-sacrifice is not only beneficial, it's necessary for us to be in obedience with Christ. Think of exercising. Since no one has successfully created a "Magic Muscle Pill", we all have to do what's necessary to get stronger. That means hours in the gym, week after week, year after year. And boy, does it make us sore--especially when we first begin it. I can't tell you how many times I've decided I was going to go running and quit after a few days. My sister, an avid runner, says if a person can just continue the routine for six weeks, then he or she will have a desire to run. Until then, it means dragging oneself out of bed with great reluctance.

Last night I was in Burleson to see one of my students perform in the first-ever Burleson Community Theatre musical. Before I went to the show, I'd had dinner with Britney Owens, and dropped her off at Chris & Heidi's house. We saw the Lower half of Chris's body hanging out of a silver Honda I didn't recognize. I asked Chris if it was his new car. He said that it was Rachel & Steve's car, and that they'd traded cars with Rachel because her air conditioning didn't work. Rachel and Steve have a tiny baby boy, Ian, who is about four months old. I was so stunned. On the way home I thought, that's exactly what we're supposed to do for each other. Consider others more highly than ourselves. I know it will probably embarrass Chris, Rachel, and Steve, but I wanted to tell that story because it's so great. Only God can give us eyes to see beyond our own needs and realize someone else's.

Have you heard this MercyMe song? Check it out. It's fitting.

http://www.klove.com/lyrics/lyrics.asp?2468

Do You Sport Jorts?

2006-07-12T13:23:00.000-05:00

Our convenient (and now working) high-speed internet connection makes a lot of things possible, like researching used cars, and writing frivolous posts like this one: An expose on Jorts-wearing in Middle America.

"What are jorts?"

Go ahead. Google the word. Here's a fraction of what you'll come up with.

Texas Travesty, a comedy website, claims Jorts are the hottest fashion trend.
http://www.texastravesty.com/content.php?issueNumber=2004_04&story=jorts

Don't let their sarcasm lead you astray. Jorts are not cool, I found out last Friday night. I was eating dinner with Kim, our friend Lauren, and her husband Jordan. Jordan sharply criticizes wearers of jorts, claiming that they ought to make a choice between shorts and jeans, not try to combine them. I have to concede that Jordan has a point. Combining two pleasing things does not always equal the superior product. Think of Cherry-Vanilla Dr. Pepper; Fed-Ex Kinkos, and the similar combination of shorts and a skirt, "skorts". Who do you see wearing skorts these days? Only five-year-old girls who don't know how to wear skirts properly. Hybrid products are not always bred in wisdom.

But if Jorts are a crime, then nearly everybody is guilty of fashion faux pas. According to Jordan, Jorts are not just cutoff jeans, but any jean that does not reach at least mid-calf. Thus, anything other than capri pants and standard blue jeans are offending parties. If we all gave up our jorts, the landfills would be overflowing. If we gave them to Goodwill, who would buy them? Kids whose parents didn't know better and dressed them in jorts would be ridculed and rejected by their peers. Jorts may be wrong, but if I'm wrong, baby, I don't want to be right.

If you haven't googled it yet, I suggest you do. There's nothing worse than an uninformed jorts-wearer. And if you do choose to wear jorts, make sure you know how to use them. Unlike athletic shorts, jorts have flies that have to be zipped.

I Got a Job!

2006-07-06T11:38:00.000-05:00

Guess what I'm teaching?

MIDDLE SCHOOL!

I actually applied, interviewed, and accepted this position. If you remember me saying that I didn't want to teach middle school, then have a good laugh. But here are the benefits:

1. I only have to teach one subject: theatre.

2. I get to go home at 4 o'clock most days instead of being in rehearsal until 6 or 7 everynight.

3. I might have time to do some acting and take night classes in dance or something like that.

4. The students won't be the same age as me, or twice my size.

5. Junior high kids might laugh at my corny jokes (Might).

And, last but not least, I think God really changed my heart. I have nothing but great expectations.

Life in OK

2006-07-05T15:37:00.000-05:00

Once a year, I go back to my hometown in Oklahoma for a family reunion. My Mom's side of the family is an interesting crowd. Here's a rundown of the events that took place at the yearly Tucker Family Reunion.

Monday: The Day Before

11:30 am: We drive out to Finley, a town almost wholly populated with my Mom's relatives. It has a gas station, a post office and a few churches. We see my cousin John is still building the house he started working on three years ago. John marveled us all by throwing some fish food in the pond out back and about 20 catfish came out and ate.

1 pm: We drive down the road to my cousin Stella's and see if our Alabama relatives have arrived yet. They haven't, so we take Stella and her husband Bob to the town of Snow (population 30-ish) to get Barbeque. While we're there, I see my high school drum major, Kristin. When we were in school, Kristin got her teeth kicked out by a mule. She looks great now.

5pm: We go back to Aunt Marie's house and look at some of her paintings of deer and other wildlife. We read the Homecoming edition of the Antlers American newspaper, and find that my brother's old friend Billy Sam was arrested on drug charges.

Tuesday: The day of the reunion

9 am: Despite my pleading, my Mom and Aunt Marie insist on going to the family reunion early to get their salads ready. Aunt Marie picks up my Aunt Alma from the nursing home. We are the first ones there.

10 am: My Dad gives my cousin Garrett an OU hat, bringing ugliness from all sides of the room. This is because my Mom's relatives are OSU alum, and they all think that my Dad is a city boy because he's from Antlers (population 2,500) instead of Finley (population 350?).

11:30 am: Little by little, the family starts trickling in. People bring homemade food, and we run out of room on the buffet table. The crisis is that we have too much chicken spaghetti! I find out that I have about six new baby cousins since last year. People begin to ask why I'm not married yet.

3:30: The kids leave and go to cousin Robert's pool to swim. All the moms start making homemade ice cream.

6:00: We eat whatever food is leftover from lunch and play bingo.

9:00 pm: The rest of the clan goes out to a bridge on Bug Tussle road. We light firecrackers on this bridge, knowing that people only drive across this bridge about once a day. My adult cousins, John and Steven, almost set themselves on fire several times. Cousin Garrett is burned in the leg when little Tucker, age seven, lights a satellite dish that goes flying into the crowd. Cousin Freda says it's never a good thing to see rednecks running toward you with flaming sticks.

Just wanted to give you a little taste of life with my family. Sometimes it's hard for me to believe that I'm related to them, but maybe someday I'll move back there and raise cattle or horses.

Stolen images

2006-06-27T22:16:00.000-05:00

These are pictures that my sister has saved on her computer. Because I'm at her house for the week,I decided I'd show you some of these...she'll never know!

This is a shot of ACU's homecoming musical from three years ago, Guys N Dolls. If you just look, you can see my elbow and the bottom of my red polka dot skirt on the left. My sister must've thought that I was the girl in the white polka dot dress because she took lots of pictures of that girl, and none of me!

Kevin could ues some fashion advice. Not only is he sporting a t-shirt from the dark side, but that fro is downright gnarly. Both he and his older brother Kurt had this same...er....haircut in those days.

Take a look at this tux! The girl beside Cole is his sister. But I'm sure that his date had a similar reaction.

Not to be outdone by the boys in our family, my two nieces and I posed for this beauty last Christmas. We were portraying the way that we sleep. It's good for the spine.

Classical Sonatas

2006-06-20T14:48:00.004-05:00

I'm just sitting here eating the M&M's out of the trail mix. Kim and I are in the new apartment but still haven't gotten our internet hookup, so I have to stop by my parents house to use the internet. I take the internet for granted. So many people say that writing in their blog is a chore, but I don't really think so. It's my own private magazine and I'm the editor. The fact that people read it is very cool. I know I've said this before, but it truly is great to have a voice.

My Mom is sewing something right now, and the classical tune that is playing on the radio just ended. She sighed just now and said, "I like that music." My Mom really isn't much a music or movie buff, so I always think it's nice when she really likes something. She usually gets up a lot and forgets that she is watching a movie. The classical music was very lush, romantic. I wondered to myself if that's what love is really about? I know it is not, because I hear my parents have gory discussions about their tonenail fungi. I don't know if I'd want love to be as heavy as that romantic sonata. It would just be too much, like one of those rich chocolate desserts that you can only eat two bites of. But I do know one thing: I want that with God. Talking with Summer and Renee last night just reminded me of that. To be filled with God's spirit is something that we talk about a lot but some of us have never experienced. How do I know that? Because I thought I had lived full of the spirit of God for my whole life until something really occurred that told me otherwise. Have you ever been so compelled by the Holy Spirit that you feel like God is just dwelling in your body; that every word you say and everything you do is just God radiating out of you? And it's not that you did anything or are doing anything to make this happen. It's more like God is using you--literally. There is a painting that I once saw but haven't been able to locate. Maybe it was at an art exibition, I don't remember. But in this painting there is a man, floating between the earth and the sky, with a beam of light forcing its way out of his body--his mouth, his eyes, his every fingertip. When I think of God's spirit dwelling in me, I imagine this painting. At times it's a brilliant light and at other times it seems like only a little flicker. We've had ages of religious debate on what it means to be filled with the spirit of God. We know that God gives us his spirit freely, so everyone who knows Him has it, don't they? Well, yes, but there's a real difference in how that Spirit manifests itself. Who can deny that at certain times we have more intense, powerful encounters with God? You could compare it to a radio signal, which gets stronger the closer we get to the source. Or, more accureately, the heat of the sun. We can never fly right next to the sun because it would burn us up. That's God. This experience is, to some, needless. Is that not wanting what is unrealistic for us, as human beings, to walk in? God is always with us, is he not? But if you love someone, don't you want to be close to that person? After a while, talking on the phone and writing e-mails just won't do.

Think what you will about this, I'm just thinking. We say we are filled to overflowing, but our fullness is relative. Sometimes we're only allowing God to inhabit our lives as much as we're comfortable with. And "comfortable" is usually settling for second best.

Go Mavs!

2006-06-13T14:03:00.000-05:00

Look at that sporty subject line. I chose that subject line so that Zach and Josue would read my blog! I'll be watching the game tonight, but during commercials I'm watching baseball.

On Saturday, I will be moving in with the same roommate I had the first time I left my parents' house. Kim Perkins was my roommate freshman year before transferring to OU. Now she's in her second year of grad school and we decided that if I quit my job at Alvarado, then we would be roommates. I had to quit my job early to allow my school to find another person to take my place and in order for Kim to let her old apartment complex know she wasn't coming back. It's cool, I said, I'll find a job. And I will. But I just haven't yet. You know that feeling of rejection that is necessary in our lives? How much is too much, I wonder? I mean, it is necessary. Thinking back on the first guy that rejected me in school...his name is Mark. He was really cool in 6th grade, but I've heard he's an alcoholic now. I'm really thankful for that rejection. Another big rejection for me was being rejected by the ACU theatre department the first time I auditioned. That rejection motivated me to work really hard building sets and props to show that I had good work ethic. I still really wanted to be a theatre major so it meant so much when they let me in the department.

But job rejection. What's the point, really? They don't know me, they are just school principals taking one look at my resume, seeing that I only have a year of experience, and choosing to ignore my constant e-mails and phone calls. After all, their secretaries are the ones who have to deal with me. Principals are busy, I guess, but honestly. If I get totally discouraged about this, then I'm missing the lesson of this experience and every experience: God gives, God provides, and God has his own clock. He provided that job in Alvarado at the very end of the summer last year. I don't doubt that he will take care of me. It's just...how. It may be a very humbling job for me, like Burger King French Fry Commander. Is there such a job? My Mom has reminded me daily that I don't have a job yet, just to motivate me. Have faith. Have faith. But am I going about this the right way? I think tomorrow I'm going to drive over to Flower Mound High School and wait in the front office until the principal walks out...then pounce!

I have had an interview at a middle school, however. They want me to teach Home-ec for four classes and theatre for two.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Something funny happened Sunday night as I was driving home from my Abilene/Burleson trip. I heard one of those Bud Light "Real men of Genius" commercials on the radio, and it made fun of guys who were way too proud of Texas. I'm going to be careful what I say right now because I live in Texas. Why bite the hand that feeds me? But it was so funny! One of the characteristics of "Mr. Way too proud of Texas" was that he had contempt for all states that don't begin with "Tex" and end in "as". I knew a guy at ACU who was like that--so proud of Texas that he used to make up quotes about Texas, then post them on his AOL away messages. These quotes personified Texas as a beautiful woman with which real women could nrver compare. It was a lot like Pat Green's "Songs about Texas". I'm from Oklahoma, and I never knew anybody who made up their own love-quotes about it! Sure, I got reamed by my classmates when I told them I was going to a college in Texas. But the state pride was never as extreme as it is in Texas. I'm pretty sure you're never going to find an Illinois flag shower curtain. Please comment, Texans. I don't fully understand.

Go Mavs!

So Long, Burleson

2006-06-05T23:10:00.000-05:00

Hi guys. I'm about to unhook my computer and pack it up. Tomorrow I'll be moving back to Dallas for a temporary stay at my parents' house, then to my new apartment on the 17th. I'd like to do a small comparison of life at my parents' house compared to life at my apartment:

Mom and Dad's House:
Eats: No sugar, no trans fat, and no frivolous tastiness. Still better than my cooking.
Internet: Dial-up slowness, rarely worth it. User may forget what he or she was doing on the computer in the first place.
Computers: 3, count them, three computers, each with amazing Spider Solitaire capability.
Activities: Daddy does crossword puzzles, Mom watches the French open (tennis) and makes alphabet puppets to donate to the church. Giant exercise balls in the living room which double as Ottomans in front of the tv.
Bedtime: Between the 10 o'clock news and David Letterman.

Moving: I can't describe exactly how I feel about all of this. It's a mixture of anticipation, frustration, fear, and hope. My Mom's efforts to make my apartment squeaky-clean before I move out have irked me. Now, why wouldn't I want my Mom to help me out? That's just the tip of the iceberg of the weirdness of my feelings. Don't you sometimes think that emotions are a burden? I find myself swimming in them, like a soap opera queen, and I wonder what good they do. However, without them we'd all be channeling Keanu Reeves. Boring! Ask me about Keanu Reeves's acting. I'll give you an earful. Hmph.

Ok, I guess it's time to go unplugged. For those of you that I'm leaving behind, I am going to have to see you again...soon. It's not goodbye. Not today.

Happy Sunday

2006-06-04T09:53:00.000-05:00

The Lord Reigns, let the earth be glad;
let the distant shores rejoice.
Clouds and thick darkness surround him;
righteousness and justice are the foundations of his throne.
Fire goes before him and consumes his foes on every side.
His lightning lights up the world;
the earth sees and trembles.
The mountains melt like wax before the Lord,
before the Lord of all the earth.
The heavens proclaim his righteousness,
and all the peoples see his glory...

psalm 97:1-6

A Right Decision

2006-05-29T23:27:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-05-22T18:33:00.000-05:00

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?

2006-05-18T22:40:00.000-05:00

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

2006-05-17T17:26:00.000-05:00

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 benefits...plus 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

2006-05-09T21:01:00.000-05:00

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.

Cole

2006-05-08T22:03:00.000-05:00

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

2006-05-03T18:22:00.000-05:00

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

2006-05-01T18:23:00.000-05:00

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.

One Week

2006-04-25T18:54:00.000-05:00

I've got dance class in ten minutes, so I'm going to crank this baby out in speeds that I normally wouldn't. It's hard because I'm a wordy-nerd.

In the past week...
Lindsey came to see me and it was just like old times.
Baseball is no longer my favorite sport. The Rangers sent my favorite player to their Oklahoma farm team.
We decided to launch a website just for our summer drama camp at Christ Journey.
Renee, Jen, Jamie and I learned how to say, "I'm awesome!" in Romanian.
I tried on a lot of swimsuits that just didn't flatter.
Elasha and I went to see Reckless Kelly and they're really good! (Elasha has introduced me to a lot of cool stuff this year!)
I resigned from my teaching position, which means that I now HAVE to find a teaching job in a timely manner.
Kim and I decided to definitely be roommates, which means I'm moving to Richardson.
I made contact with a childhood friend.
I got to talk to my favorite ACU teacher and she said she has confidence that everything will be alright.
I watched The Phantom of the Opera on DVD six times (I was showing it to all of my theatre classes).

This whole "I quit my job" thing probably shouldn't have been announced this way. But just now, I don't really want to talk about it. Let me finish out the year and then write about it.

Gotta dance.

Basic Instinct

2006-04-20T17:30:00.000-05:00

Ack! TAKS week. Well at least it's over. Lindsey is coming to visit me tomorrow and then there's Renee's birthday (Nascar in 3D?) and the Garland job fair...life is bizz.

OK, you know what? I realized today that almost everybody thinks that they are open minded. Think about it. Who do you know that has ever said to you, "I'm narrow minded and I only see things my way." (Short of the Lord revealing that to them, of course.) We've all had to be open minded a lot in our lives just for survival. Example: A significant other gives you a cd of a band that you've never heard of. Would you say, "What the heck, fool, I don't know this band.?!!" You'd probably listen to it...at least once. We're all open minded now and then, anytime a comfort zone is breached. And so we think, we all think, "I'm open-minded."

Yesterday, a student text-messaged her mother in the restroom during the TAKS test, and her mother came to the school to pick the girl up. Of course, the TAKS test is an issue of National Security! Cell phones are strictly prohibited and if your cell phone even goes off during the test, every student in the room will have their test voided. Anyway, the Mom came wearing what was apparently a low-cut tank top and a pair of short shorts. A first-year teacher went on about how skanky this outfit was, when finally one of the more bold substitute teachers said, "That lady had breast cancer in both breasts and a double masectomy, and those are her new breasts." My co-teacher (the head theatre teacher), even more gutsy, said, "I didn't think that outfit was inappropriate!"

Silence. In a minute, the teacher who had made the first comment about how skanky the woman's outfit was began to tear up. My co-teacher had made her cry! (How many times has she made me cry? A lot!) And this was all over saying something the first-year teacher thought would be harmless or at least accepted by the others at the table. She didn't think twice about judging someone based on her appearance. Do you? I try not to, but think about it, we all do. I think I don't, because tattoos and ponytails don't bother me, because I make friends with people from other races, or because I'd freely give a dollar to a homeless man.

But I do look at what people wear and judge their motives. Just like the mother that walked in in those clothes, and the first-year teacher thought that her inappropriate dress signaled some need for sexual attention. It's instinctive to judge, but we have to fight the tide. Instincts aren't our God.

In that moment, I was so glad that I hadn't even seen the woman who came to pick her daughter up. Was she dressed inappropriately? I guess I'll never know.

Clanging Cymbal

2006-04-13T17:42:00.000-05:00

I had a friend who called herself a clanging cymbal. It seemed to us that everything she said was kind, but she would catch herself saying something that only she knew was unloving and say, "Oh! I'm being a gong!" Of course, she was referencing 1 Corinthians 13:1 a verse I never spent much time on,

If I speak in tongues of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

When I hear, "Gong" or "Clanging cymbal", my first thought is a couple of really boring teachers that I had in junior high. One loud, ominous sounding, the other brassy and chattery and full of sarcasm.

Now that I'm a teacher, I too am a clanging cymbal. By far the most frustrating part of being an educator is that nobody listens to you, and then you have to repeat yourself 1,000 times. You also have to say a lot of things that you never wanted to hear come out of your own mouth in the heat of disciplining a student. Words like, "If you do that one more time..." My students know me well enough to know that my bark is worse than my bite. It can't be helped. Even though I don't let them run over me, I don't exactly have them under my thumb, either. Nobody listens to anybody else. I can't help but think that if I'm not talking, then life is so much sweeter.
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I have a library card. When I walk in, I just stand between the aisles, both excited and in pain. Excited, because I get to check out any book I want. I could just open it up and know something new. In pain because I will never read them all. And perhaps, I will choose the wrong one. Or maybe I won't be brave and explore the unfamiliar titles.

I start books but don't finish them. Who can still that long? But the thought of knowing all of those things...that thrills me! So I will grab a book and open it, read a little bit, and put it back. If I take the book home, it loses its magic and becomes a paperweight on my desk. I did check out this book, though, a book of poetry. I read it with my windows open while listening to classical music. Laugh, by all means. If I were you, and I were reading this blog, I would make fun of me, too.

But anyway, the whole goal was to share this poem.

"Before Easter"

by Isobel Thrilling

Spring;

yet still frost builds

dead palaces.

We hear the crack from

icicles of bone,

snow crowns

have snapped the throats

of daffodils,

the ice-queen walks in

her brittle dress.

No rose-blood in the stem

no cumulus

perfume in the trees,

each day

is a coffin of glass.

The sun is turned

to crystal,

it is our alchemy of winter;

inner cold.

Christ sleeps

behind a quickening stone.

Schizophrenic Sunday

2006-04-09T14:18:00.000-05:00

I don't think that I woke up as myself today. Last night after I got in (very late) and wrote the confusing blog below which I'll later explain, I took a shower, went to bed, and planned nothing but sleep and church for today. But this morning, instead, of myself, I was my sister. My body cried, "Get out of bed! Go running!" I don't run anymore...I used to, but dance is my exercise of choice. I rolled over, wanting to sleep even though I wasn't tired. Then my Mom's voice popped into my head. The idea that I needed to change the sheets suddenly seemed like a novel idea. "Noooo!" the other part of me raged. Alas, I couldn't go back to sleep! (Just like Kim Perkins!)
My hair, of course, was frightful because I slept on it wet. But at some point as I was getting ready to go out later in the day, Renee took over and sa, "You don't need makeup! Just go!" So I got dressed and walked out the door, no idea where I was going to go. This was indeed strange.
After driving to the big Burleson strip mall I went to Pier One, and spent about 30 minutes looking very closely at everything, taking it all in. Ok, that's me. I like to look at all of it. But for once it didn't bother me that I couldn't buy anything. That's like my Mom.
Next, I went to Michael's. Good. I actually need something there. Thirty minutes later, I walked out with two canvasas, a new set of paintbrushes and some acrylic paint. Who am I? Lindsey Jackson has taken over my body now. I even bought the kind of paints that Lindsey buys. I'll tell you what I'm painting later. I haven't painted since third grade, when I took lessons from my Aunt Marie and I realized that every creature I drew looked like it had a flesh-eating cancer.
I Hadn't eaten yet, so I put some chicken in my grill. But instead of my usual food, I made my own pasta sauce from scratch, and cooked the chicken with pineapple. (Yum!) This is very much like Lindsey, because I'm just not that into cooking.
What the heck! I've loved this day, but honestly, I think I'd still be in bed if I hadn't woken up with multiple personality disorder.

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Oh! An explanation of what I wrote earlier. Yes, you guessed right. My school didn't cut my position. Unless something drastic happens to the district's money, I've got a job. But I might be teaching speech OR teach half a day at the junior high. I've decided I'd make the sacrifice to teach at the junior high...but speech? Throw up! I think I'd rather teach TAKS remediation.

It's something I'm going to have to pray about...a lot. Thanks for your prayers. Thanks to to everyone who stood by me in the frustration of not knowing my future for so long. It looks like I still don't know, but that's what makes life exciting, isn't it?

I LOVE YOU GUYS!

They renewed my contract at my school

2006-04-09T00:35:00.000-05:00

That's right.

Just Bleachy

2006-04-01T17:40:00.000-06:00

Plumbing. You never think about it until it goes on strike. I live in an apartment, so who knows what my neighbors have flushed, but my toilet runneth over. That was alarming, as I did nothing to make it run over. Hey! I'd admit it if I'd thrown a bag of trash into the toilet and tried to flush it. I did no such thing. Whatever. Anyway, it's about 11:30, I've been to dance class, and I take a shower. While I am in the shower, I notice that there is a steady stream of water coming out of the commode, covering my floor as far as the eye can see. I step out into it, freezing cold, and about an inch deep. I try mopping it. No. Wiping it up with towels? No. Finally I am scooping it up and pouring it into the bathtub. I'm not old enough to have a set of 15-year-old ugly towels. I use the only towel I have that I don't mind sopping up toilet water with: The Butt/Face towel. The towel was a birthday gift from Cole and Lindy, and it's designed so that you won't mistakenly use the same side of the towel to wipe your face and your butt. Now, said towel is hanging off of my balcony to dry. Imagine my neighbors looking out to see a towel with the word "Butt" embroidered on one side. I put the face-side out. I mopped my floor with bleach yesterday. It's sad knowing that in order to clean something, you've got to murder thousands of your own brain cells. But I guess that's the price you pay for sanitary living conditions. Now my toilet is fixed, thanks to Richard, the maintenance guy. Or he says it's fixed. We'll see what comes up.

Today I went to a job fair for Keller ISD. There's an opening at Keller Fossil Ridge, I found out. Meanwhile, their fine arts representatives told me I should consider teaching middle school. I can learn to love all people with the exception of middle school kids. They're either asleep or they're bouncing off the walls, and their love affairs are more rocky than Days of Our Lives. But I have this feeling, down deep, that I'll find myself at a middle school next year. I'm sure I can learn to love them...but it's on my list of unlikely things, along with attending the University of Texas and my Mom getting a tattoo.

2006-03-27T22:08:00.000-06:00

God works in mysterious ways. That is such a cliche, but so true. Like my friendship with Shirley, my neighbor. My parents met her when she first moved in next door to me, because they were waiting for the tow-truck to pick up my car. (I was at school.) That gave me the courage to meet her, and she instantly became my friend. We couldn't be more different, it seems, but maybe we're a lot alike. We're both single, we both like eating. I'm sure there's more. At any rate, I didn't mean for all of this to happen, but now we're friends, she goes to church with me, and she took me and all of our small group to dinner tonight, which was not my plan when I invited her to go with me. Sometimes I think I'm going to bless her life and she ends up blessing mine. Shirley had a cd with some songs on it that I hadn't heard in a few years. One of them was TobyMac, "Irene", and she kenw all of the words. There is a line in it, "Blessed is she, Irene, who seeks my face." And Shirley yelled it out. Then she started car dancing (which reminds me of Lydia Jackson!)...then I started car dancing because she was. It was so fun to hang out with Shirley, who's 18 years older than I am but makes me see how truly uptight I've been about stuff that doesn't matter.
On the other side of God's blessings are the blessings that seem like curses. These blessings come in packages like "failure", "loss" and "disappointed hopes". All of the above came to our theatre group this weekend when we (who'd gone to state in One-Act Play last year) didn't advance past the first round of competition. There's a lot to say about how unfair it is, that the opinion of one person and their theatre preferences are what really determine who gets to advance. Only two schools from each district move to the next round. And of course, it's a bit painful that round two of the four-round competition is going to be held at our school. It's even worse that the kids actually did awesome--the best we've ever seen them. But I know--I just know that God is going to bless us in this. I can't possibly see how. That play was our lovechild! Anybody who's ever been in the playoffs of any competition can probably feel our pain. Please keep this in mind. In two weeks, I will have something good to tell.

This is what we've been studying in church:
"What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him..." Philippians 3:8,9

What Am I Afraid Of?

2006-03-22T21:15:00.000-06:00

For some of us, there are things we want so badly to do that we’re afraid, and we run away. Jonah was one of those people. We think of Jonah as running away from God, but I was thinking: God didn’t force Jonah. He’s never forced anybody to be his servant, that’s just not who God is. He calls us, but we don’t have to answer. To me it makes more sense that maybe Jonah wanted to serve God. Maybe he’d served God before. Maybe Jonah had preached faithfully in other cities before, but just like I’d rather teach in Highland Park than in South Oak Cliff, Jonah didn’t want to dirty his hands with the salvation of Ninevah. Maybe he didn’t feel safe, since as I recall, the Ninevites had been warlike barbarians. Maybe he had a past with these people, and he had seen the true evil of what they had done, so thatsalvation for the Ninevites didn’t seem justified. “God, you’re not fair!” I can just hear Jonah saying it. God really had to give him a spiritual spanking to get his prideful heart where it needed to be, and even then it didn’t happen right away. And here God is, saying He’ll have mercy on whom he’ll have mercy. God asks us to do what we desire to do at first, but do we stop desiring it when we see how just hard it will be?
I do!
I did. I’m running from the very thing I started out to do. Acting. Let me say that acting is not my true calling, at least not now anyway. But it is a part of my calling. I can’t direct if I can’t act. A director has got to be able to think like an actor because you have to speak their language. As an actor, you put yourself out there in the most revealing kind of way. You may as well come out onstage in your underpants, because that’s exactly how it feels. And if you fail, well, it’s the same sensation of baking this perfect soufflé and then watching it deflate as you try to remove it from the oven…I think. I’ve never made a soufflé.

Last night I sat down on the rug in front of a very insecure young actor and surprised myself by confessing, “I’m scared of acting. It’s easier to direct, because acting is so hard.” In tonight’s performance, that actor wasn’t flawless, but he had improved greatly, which made me want to throw him a ticker tape parade. There is nothing more beautiful than watching a person break loose from their fears and do something brave. He really put himself out there. He made me proud.

I’ve always thought I wasn’t afraid of anything, but really I’m less afraid of death than I am of living life to the fullest. I don’t regret teaching or directing. I want to do those, too. But it’s always good to do something you’re afraid of.

A list of things I’m afraid of.
Math
Welding
Mayonnaise
Being totally alone
Serial Killers & Rapists
Dark, empty theatres
Acting…
Figure Skating
Amusement park rides that spin in circles
Buildings that seem haunted
Driving a stick

Stuff that I am not afraid of:
Bugs
Tornadoes
Thunderstorms
Spiders
Performing in front of people
Clowns
Looking like a goofball
Big, dangerous power tools
Homeless people

Early Babe

2006-03-19T22:41:00.001-06:00

Steve & Rachel's baby came early! Wow, what a surprise. If you didn't get the e-mail from Nathan, Rachel's brother, here's his website with lots of pictures of the new bebe.
http://nathanbrainard.com/gallery/album44

I tried to pick a favorite, but it's like choosing an ice cream flavor at Baskin Robbins...impossible. Also, I think Nathan boobytrapped his photos somehow because I couldn't get them to upload!

Champeens!

2006-03-18T21:43:00.000-06:00

Hey guys you know what? My nephew's basketball team went to the National Junior College basketball Division III championships...

AND THEY WON!

Here's a little blurb from the website:
North Lake College, Texas is making its second appearance in the national tournament. The Blazers earned their berth in the nationals with a 19-14 record, upsetting third-seeded Richland College 78-69 in the Region V championship. According to Coach Tim McGraw, the team is led by sophomore talent, enabling North Lake to win their last six games. "We like to think of ourselves as the Princeton of junior colleges," said Coach McGraw. "We pass and cut to get our looks."

This is Kevin, nephew #2. Don't worry. My Dad took a lot of pictures, mostly of Kevin looking sweaty at the free throw line. I'll try to post some in the near future. In the meantime, keep watching March Madness.

Spring Break Discoveries

2006-03-14T19:49:00.000-06:00

Life never ceases to amaze me. Here are my newest discoveries about my friends, family, self...

-My mom cares deeply for Phalange, her beta fish. She has me fish-sitting all week while she and Dad are in New York at Kevin’s basketball tournament.

-Adam Brown makes blogging promises and then doesn’t follow through.

-Just because a parade is held in a large metropolitan area, that doesn’t mean it can’t have random people riding on flatbed trailers entered as “floats” just like they do in small towns.

-St. Patrick’s day is just an excuse for people to get drunk at ten o’clock in the morning.

-Thrift stores will sell anything that is donated, evidenced by the fact that I found a sealed jar at one thrift store that apparently contained three small tumors and an appendix preserved in formaldehyde.

-I’m a much nicer person when I haven’t been at school all day.

-Shopping online is not fun. You cannot touch or smell what you’re about to buy.

-The Fray is a really cool band. Thanks to Elasha for introducing me to them.

-Lauren is now very decisive at the video store. Way to go, Lauren!

-My Mom buys candy, puts it in a jar on the coffee table, and then tells us that only the grandkids are allowed to eat it.

-About 50% of the time, my Dad is only pretending not to hear what my Mom is telling him to do. He told us, “I thank God for being hard of hearing!”

-For the first time in a very long time, Texas A&M’s basketball team is actually good.

- Too much sleep has the same effect as not enough!

-Kim Perkins runs a 10-minute mile.

-I am always patient in Dallas traffic jams but impatient behind one slow-moving vehicle in Burleson.

-My apartment stove has this annoying oven timer on it and I bumped it by accident cooking dinner. The only way to get it to stop is to reset it and let it go off again fifteen minutes later!

We're Going for Ugly

2006-03-07T22:25:00.000-06:00

If you haven't heard from me, it's because I've been deep in the heart of the Burleson Goodwill Superstore (did you know they had those?) digging for all things 70's. Our UIL One-Act play, The shadowbox is set in 1975, so everything that hits the stage--costumes, hairstyles, props, sets--all have to be from that period or it kills the magic. You don't want to be looking at a set that's all 70's and then see a dude with a mullet. That's 80's! Every child in the audience would go home disappointed in our lack of research on the time period! So we go to Lowe's and pick out paint. After much deliberation, we decide and take it up to the counter. I ask the cashier what she thinks of these colors. "Those are nice!" She offers. "No!" I sigh, "I wanted you to say that these are ugly. What we're going for is ugly." And the cashier laughs. "Those are ugly," She said, "I was just trying to be nice."

This is one of those times when I am so thankful to have a mother who never gets rid of anything. Just today, she and my Dad loaded up their trailer and brought me a yellow swivel chair and several amber-glass canisters that look like they were ripped off the set of The Brady Bunch. My parents moved back to Oklahoma in the early 70's and built a house, and naturally, decorated it in the fashionable shades. Harvest Gold. Avocado Green. Vermillion orange. Light Brown. Dark Brown. Psycadelic peach. Shag carpet. Vaulted ceilings. Wood panel. Ahh, the 70's. Even though we sold that house years ago, we still have those recliners somewhere in storage, just in case they ever come back in style.
This all makes me think of that house and wonder why it was so unnecessarily huge. Four Bedroom, three bath, sewing room, living area, and two dining areas. My parents just had four kids when they built it, and since my oldest brother was in college, they saved money and didn't build him a room. They built the kids' rooms all on one side of the house, and put their room on the complete other side. By the time I came along, all of the older kids were in college, so naturally, they gave me the largest, most spacious room for me and all of my toys. But I would have nightmares and would have to go to my parents room. I'd trek across the house led only by the faint light from the VCR. Then I'd go to school the next day and tell all the other kids, "Our house is a mile long!"
Anyway, that's off the subject. What I'm trying to say is, donate your ugly stuff to a theatre somewhere. It'll save them some money and time, since other theatres sometimes buy up all the ugly stuff before we can get there. Have you ever seen two theatre teachers brawl at the Salvation Army? It ain't pretty.

Olde Pictures

2006-03-03T22:16:00.000-06:00

My Dad just got a new camera and gave me his old one. I realized I have pictures of absolutely nothing since I left college. I don't know if I can handle this pressure! Now I have no excuse.

In honor of taking more pictures, I wanted to post some of my old ones. My, how things have changed.

Freshman year at the Sprout. Little did we know that all these years later, Josh still wouldn't be able to pose naturally for a picture.

I found this picture and showed it to my students, who then lost all respect for me. Why do I have a Mommy-haircut?

Lauren was out of town and Allison, Greg, Lindsey and I were bored and broke. We took a life-size poster of Lauren (age 9) to various locations and photographed it. Here we are in Chili's.

Kim hasn't changed that much. She still smiles exactly like this.

Awww, Cheeks!

Grow up, Don't Throw up!

2006-02-28T17:49:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, a girl in my dance class told me very matter-of-factly that she was going to throw up and that she needed to leave class. This is the same girl who told me for three weeks she needed to take a medication everyday at 11:05 and was really just going to get in the lunch line five minutes before everyone else. So I told her, “Michelle*, if you need to throw up, just throw up on the floor so I know you’re sick. ” (The girl makes up a fake illness everyday: backaches, fake pregnancies, etc.) We did about 150 crunches in warmup, and she was fine. Then I took a few minutes to go over the steps with students who need help, and next thing I know, another student tells me, “Michelle just threw up.” I said, “No she didn’t. Floor’s clean.” And Michelle triumphantly said, “Oh yeah, I did! ” Then I said the unthinkable. “Show me,” I demanded. “What? Eww!” Everyone gasped. “Show me!” I held my nose. Usually the smell of vomit makes me want to do the same. So Michelle brought out a trashcan from backstage. Sure enough, full of vomit. I let her go, and told her to take the trashcan with her. After class, I walked out in the hallway and realized that Michelle had left the trashcan just outside the theatre door to take care of. Gross. GROSS. GROSSSS! Am I so unrefined that I readily ask to examine other people’s vomit? The only thing that fazed me was the annoyance of having to take care of it myself. Anyway, Michelle came back to class and plopped down in the middle of the stage floor where we were dancing. Another student came and whispered to me, “Michelle is bulimic.” Honestly, folks, I’m a compassionate person. But when you’ve had the wool pulled over your eyes by a student before, it is really hard to trust that kid ever again. My suspicion was that she slipped backstage and made herself throw up so she could leave school. I said, “Michelle, if you’ve got bulimia, then your Mom and I need to talk.” Ooh! That was serious business. Once Michelle’s mother came to school and caught her sitting down in the middle of dance class. I explained that it was because of her backache and Michelle’s Mom said, “She has absolutely nothing wrong with her!” She proceeded to chew her daughter out in front of the whole class. Naturally, Michelle doesn’t want anybody to call her mom.

Tomorrow…I’m calling Michelle’s mom.

I love these kids, I really do. With all of their silliness and their spitballs and their fake-diseases, they win my heart. Maybe this is why I get up every morning at 6.

*Her name’s not really Michelle, so I can’t get sued for this.

Our Deepest Fear

2006-02-28T06:32:00.000-06:00

It's stinking 6:30 in the morning and I had no desire to get up in the first place, but here I am. I have to get ready for school. Here is a quote i've been meaning to share for a long time.

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?" Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
--Marianne Williamson

Disclaimer

2006-02-23T19:11:00.000-06:00

I'd like to clarify that though the Pom-juice tastes a little funny, albeit very strong, I do not hate it. In fact, I'm drinking some of it right now. I made this chart showing where it ranks on my best-drinks list (1 being the best).

1. Peppermint Mocha
2. Diet coke with lime
...
...
...
13. Pomengranate juice
...
...
...

47. Slightly soured whole milk
48. Cheap whiskey mixed with cough syrup

See? I love it.

Pom - Tastic!

2006-02-21T18:34:00.000-06:00

I'm blogging about three times as much as a normal blogger. I bet I blog more than Madison, my 13-year-old niece. But I had to ask this: has anyone ever had pomengranate juice? It's supposed to be chock full of antioxidants, according to my mother. I got some yesterday. Folks, it does NOT taste like a pomengranate. It tastes more like...well, let's put it this way. My theory is that the folks at Ocean Spray were having a hard time marketing their new Cran-Prune juice. So, they decided to add a little bit of pomengranate juice in it (as the last ingredient), slap a label on it that says, "Pom-Wonderful" and sell it for $4 a bottle. We're talking about a sixteen-ounce bottle here. How will I know if this stuff is working? Nevermind, I shouldn't ask that. It has prune juice in it.

You should've seen that one coming.

I'm gonna go to tap class now and act like none of this ever happened.

Skipping School

2006-02-20T00:03:00.000-06:00

Naughty girl that I am, I've decided to play hooky from school tomorrow. In truth, I had planned on going to Abilene to see my ACU buddies and NOT sing song. However, I didn't finish my pedagogy test until 4:00 and didn't feel like driving on ice for three hours. Now I'm skipping just to skip. My students deserve the substitute teacher they are unknowingly going to walk in on tomorrow morning. I wish I had bugged my classroom. This substitute, we'll call her "Betty" is a pistol. She writes up at least ten students a day. (I don't write up that many in a month.) If any student talks, she threatens to send them to dentention. She comes complete with evil stare. Heh heh. Like the kids book, Miss Nelson is Missing, my students will soon have a new appreciation for my way of doing things.

My friends from Skillman church in Dallas are really into International soccer, and they went to a game this afternoon--that's right--outside in the rain and cold and sleet. I'm anxious to know how they fared. I'm going to make the following prediction:
Everyone wrapped up in about eight thermal blankets and six sleeping bags. Melissa tried to study in between amazing plays, which happened often. Zach called Josue a girly-man when Josue complained that his toes were getting numb. Adam poured hot coffee on himself to keep warm which helped, but only for a short length of time. Renee got hot and just wore a t-shirt. Then, America won with a score of 2 - 1. Everyone piled in their cars and drove to Starbucks, where the Guatamalan soccer team was trying to warm up. Debbie got all of their autographs, but then decided to sell them on E-bay, much to the disappointment of everyone. Someone was heard saying, "Debbie, all you care about is the bottom line." Debbie sold the autographs for thousands of dollars and took everyone out to a big fancy steakhouse. All was forgiven, and the crew decided to let Debbie handle all of their finances from then on.

THE END

More Kaiden pics

2006-02-17T19:07:00.000-06:00

Kaiden was born three weeks early and was
hooked up to breathing machines. I didn't know that a 7-pound baby could still be considered
premie, but he wasn't ready yet.

Kaiden with his Dad

No dip for me, thanks.

2006-02-12T22:31:00.000-06:00

My Dad has always been my valentine. He's been giving me a box of chocolates every year since I was four years old. When I was sixteen he sent me a rose at school and wrote, "Love, Leonardo" on the card because I was in love with Leonardo DiCaprio at the time. My sophomore year in college my chocolates got lost in the mail (Actually, stuck in the ACU post office!) and I didn't get them until Easter! We've recently switched to Sugar Free chocolates since Mom has diabetes now. Still, he's a sweet Dad and he always remembers. Nothing can compare.

Speaking of valentines, I know you've been following this case like you follow Grey's Anatomy --you have to know--you just can't stand it anymore! Well, I've decided to tell you about my crush. You know, the one I wanted to know how to flirt with. What ever became of it? Well, as it turns out, he has a girlfriend, AND, he chews vast amounts of Copenhagen.

So there you have it. I'm glad I'm not good at flirtation. He might have offered me a dip!

Gross.

Let's change the subject, shall we? Here's a good verse that convicted me to reexamine what I thought love is:

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth."

1 John 3:16-18

To me, little pink hearts and teddy bears are such a squalid representation of something so incredibly huge as love. Laying down your life for someone? Valentine's hearts should be printed in army-camo. I heard once that the color of love is not pink or blue or pastel green, it's brown, because love means digging into the dirty, messsy stuff of life to rescue someone.
I'm not always willing to do that, but that's what God's trying to create in me everyday.

Happy Valentine's Day!! And remember: tobacco kills.

--Heather

Kaiden

2006-02-07T21:14:00.000-06:00

I want to introduce you to my great-nephew, Kaiden. That's right, great nephew! He's my nephew Kevin's little boy. Just look how precious! I'll probably be sharing more pictures later.

I'd also like to say, off the subject, that God is indeed at work in the world in huge ways and there's nothing Satan can do to stop Him. I've witnessed some of that lately.

February 28th!!!

2006-02-07T16:38:00.000-06:00

You must be asking yourself, "What's February 28th?" No! It's not your dentist's appointment, it's the day they release Pride and Prejudice on home video! It's a great book, and the A&E miniseries with Colin Firth was my absolute favorite. Just when I thought, "No one can outdo Colin Firth", I saw the new version. I was wrong.

These are my top ten reasons for loving P & P, and in no particular order:

10. Lizzie's Mom saying to a man, "Jane is practically engaged, but I think you'll find Elizabeth to be a very agreeable alternative!"
9. Lizzie's messed up hair and muddy outfits. The girl doesn't care what anybody thinks and that's what makes her cool.
8. The way they insult each other horribly and are completely civil about it.
7. Judi Dench and Donald Sutherland are both in it.
6. I love costumes, and this movie has interesting ones.
5. Just like in any good movie, the one kiss at the end that means way more than a hundred steamy love scenes in other movies.
4. British accents.
3. Mr. Collins is such a funny character. The boy has no skills.
2. I like that the relationship in this movie is about changing your mind about someone that you've misjudged and disliked.
1. I saw it in the theatre with Elasha and she's a fun girl!

Lizzie: I hate you, Mr. Darcy!

Darcy: Oh yeah? Well you're a dirty poor girl!"

6 months later....

Darcy: I'm not so bad once you get to know me.

Lizzie: Ok, if you say so. Kiss me!

Unfixables

2006-02-03T19:23:00.000-06:00

Hey all. I'm so glad you're here. Honestly, I'm grateful some people still read this even when there's a chance you might come on here and there'd be nothing but fluff about yogurt and teacher's lounges. That's not to say that life is never funny, but I catch myself writing silly things on the days when I'm really knee-deep in questions that I can't answer.

The latest:
Yesterday, I lost my keys. I keep all of my keys together--car keys, school keys, mailbox key, teacher id...and I somehow lost the whole shebang. When I did, it was like I had lost a limb! I wasn't able to drive home and I had to call Annette Nielsen to pick me up from school. When I got home, I couldn't get into my apartment, so I had to get my landlord to open the place up for me. I remember feeling so helpless, because I had done all I could do and nothing prevailed. In the costume storage room where I had last seen the keys, I asked God, "Why? Why won't you just help me find them? I know I was dumb to lose them, but why can't you help me now?" He's often helped me before in small ways, but this time it was like he was just watching me with parental tough-love.
My Dad would say that it's not God's will to micromanage our lives. But then again, Randy Harris says that if he God but blinks, we all go hungry. It was so crazy and scary to realize that God is not my genie in a bottle who comes out and fixes everything magically. I wondered if me finding my keys was even important to him, or if he would rather teach me a lesson in responsibility. Are keys...trivial?
Later on that evening, I got a call from James, (World's most mature high school student). James had found my keys, miraculously, on top of a breaker box six feet high in the costume storage room. Today when I saw him, James told he that he had prayed, "Lord, I've gotta find these keys" He looked, and a moment later he saw a flash of green--my lanyard.

Of course, another student had hidden the keys as a prank. This student will not ever touch my keys again--ever!

But isn't it amazing?

Also, my new ipod is a faulty one, but I didn't know that for days and I was trying everything I could to get it to work and nothing would help. I'm not a technological genius, but I know enough to install a stinkin' ipod. Nothing doing. Finally I called Apple and they told me to send it in because only they could fix it.

There are just some things that we cannot do. Maybe our eyes are too blind to see, or maybe God doesn't allow us to see until the proper, appointed time. Maybe some sin or mistake doesn't allow us to fix it because we don't turn it over to God to fix like we should have all along.
I'm just struck this week by how truly helpless we are.

My prayer is that we could all just throw up our hands and fall at the feet of Jesus. Who knows what might happen if we let go of our unfixables.

"A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing."

--Emo Philips

Rave Reviews!

2006-01-26T23:12:00.000-06:00

Opening night of our show went pretty well. The actors were a little shaky--nervous, self-conscious, but all in all it was a pretty satisfying little show. It actually ran short--an hour and a half with intermission. For theatre, that's very short! Here are some reviews of the show that I'm sure you would like to read:

"I'm coming back tomorrow night and again on Saturday!"
--Clint, Father of one of the actresses

"I laughed several times!"
--Trevor, theatre student

"I didn't fall asleep!"
--Jesse, student

As you can see, this show is amazing! Come and see it!

Friday & Saturday, January 27 & 28, 7 pm
$4 for students, $6 for adults

Courtship: A discussion

2006-01-22T11:33:00.000-06:00

In my senior year at ACU, I received some teaching on courtship as a new approach to romantic relationships, and it clarified a lot of things that were giving me fits about dating. One, we're not meant to pursue dating relationships as recreation or just to fill up our lonliness. Two, we should assume friendship and respect with any person instead of just seeing them as a potential date. Three, you should seek the will of God and the opinions (however harsh) of friends and neighbors about whether or not this relationship could work. There's also the part about postponing the physical part of the relationship. It's a mutually respectful bond, and if it does not end in marriage, the two people would still be able to maintain a Godly friendship with one another. There are more aspects of courtship, but these are the ones that I needed to learn to walk in, and still try to. But there are some realities of living in this belief that I find it impossible to reconcile myself to. One, and most importantly, I'd have to be blind and devoid of thoughts and emotions to never see anyone as a potential date. Before I think about it, before I can blink twice, that light flashes on, "Ooh...I like him!" Two, if I did end up in a courtship with a guy that I really cared about and it ended, I think that we could still be friends, but not in the same way. A room in my heart will have to be locked up because I still like this guy, and to get as close as we once did would lead me down the wrong path. My friend Lindsey is living the courtship lifestyle, and I admire her faith and perseverance. She has always shared this verse with me,
"...and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ". 2 cor. 10:5

This verse comes out of a passage about spiritual warfare. I guess, in a way, we're at war with our flesh. The difficult part is knowing which human desires are fleshly and which are Godly. (My own motives are very muddled most of the time.)

The problem I have is that I have heard from several people who believe in courtship that one should be satisfied with their relationship with God and not ever spend time thinking about marriage or how much you'd like to be married. It teaches that a relationship with God is the ultimate romance (Which it is) and that you have to be whole, a complete unit, before God will ever bring that person into your life. It gives me the feeling that I'm spiritually weak whenever I think, "Man, I hate being single." And if I hate being single, then I must not be whole, complete with God. But is that necesssarily true? This "wholeness" approach has its merits, because we all know you shouldn't expect your future spouse to fulfill all of your needs and desires. However, I'm going to have those days where I hate being single--those days are weddings, opening nights for my plays, concerts, movies, dinner parties with people who are all married, and everytime I come home to my darkened apartment. Just because I have that desire to be married does not mean that I'm weak, or that I'm not satisfied. And truthfully, marriage was meant to bring us closer to God than we could be alone. Lots of Christians think that "aloneness" is the ultimate communion with God. If I were to recount my greatest encounters with God, they were most often in the company of other believers.

Thre are so many different ways of looking at it! Praise God that we're allowed to disagree and try to look at things from different angles.
What are your thoughts? There' s an interesting article on boundless: http://www.boundless.org/2005/articles/a0001199.cfm

Answer Me This...

2006-01-20T22:34:00.000-06:00

Tonight I received an e-mail from one of my theatre professors at ACU. Apparently, a former student, Kari Firestone Heil, died. She graduated before I ever got to ACU, but because our theatre department is like a close-knit family, I knew the name. I read her husband's blog and right now he has at least 90 promises of prayer. I also saw this questionnaire on the blog from an earlier post, and it really blessed me. It caused me to think in ways I hadn't in a long time. What I ask is for you to take these questions, write them down somewhere, and answer them when you have time.

The questions:

What is your deepest dream?
How much passion do I experience in my daily life?
What do I want my epitaph to say?
How much am I growing these days?
What do I do in my everyday life that requires a power greater than my own?
If I had to name "one true thing" that I am here to do, what would it be?
How clear is it to me?

Crock Pot Victory!

2006-01-16T12:28:00.000-06:00

That's right. I have outsmarted the crock pot...by reading the user's manual. No more puppy vomit! I have decided that I am going to use my crock pot to make every kind of food imaginable so that I will no longer fear its capabilities. I will one day replace Rachel Ray and have my own show entitled, "30-minute Crock-pot meals". Wait...that's not possible. I'll call it, "18 hour crock pot meals" you know, for people like me who stay gone all day. You'll watch it. I know you will.

Funny Quote

2006-01-15T22:44:00.000-06:00

"You right now, being dreamy, that doesn't help."
--Meredith on Gray's Anatomy

Beauty

2006-01-14T21:21:00.000-06:00

I've been thinking about beauty. We'd all say it doesn't matter. But think about how much money we spend on the outsides of our bodies. I heard a preacher once call our bodies "our dirt", because that's what they are--dirt.
My favorite monologue is from Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov. The character Sonya is gushing about the man she loves, how she wonders if he notices her and if she is overanalyzing his actions and then it hits her. He does not love her! The monologue ends with her saying, "Oh Lord, how could you make me so plain?" It's heartbreaking!
Isaiah 53 says Jesus had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, and we had no esteem for him. I like that about Jesus. He understands what it feels like not to be pretty.

The girls in my classes just can't be pretty enough. Some of them have got blinders on so that they no longer know that they truly are pretty and they base their worth on which guys will date them. Many of them have given up on the idea of outer beauty and it starts eating away at their insides.
It goes deeper than acne and stringy hair. Beauty is like survival for a person, isn't it? If a person feels they have no beauty inside or out they feel overlooked and devalued. Beauty is more than skin deep, then.
Bethany Dillon has a song that says,

I want to be beautiful,
to make you stand in awe
so you'd look inside my heart

and be amazed.

I want to hear you say

who I am is quite enough.

Just want to be worthy of love

and beautiful.

I'm not really sure how I happened to want to write about this subject. It' s not something I think about that often beause I've told myself for so long that beauty didn't matter, and if it did, then I was being vain. But I caught myself looking last night. I was brushing my teeth in front of the mirror and I thought, "Wow, my face is shaped all wrong. And my teeth stick out too much." I tried smiling a certain way so that my teeth would look normal. I tried combing my hair down over my forehead just so. I tried to console myself that if I wore enough eye makeup, maybe that would draw attention to my eyes, which are "fine". I took a stage makeup course in college, so I know all about camouflaging features for different roles you play. It's so wrong! In the back of our minds, beauty is survival. A lot of it has to do with, well, procreation, and the way we're programmed. But not entirely! I think I've always been attracted to guys who were a little offbeat. Cute, but not perfect. And I'm sure if they did a survey on the menfolk, women would find out we don't have to be nearly as put-together as we are. A lot of our beauty rituals are just so we can compete with other women.

"Man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart." Then why is attraction so important? I think I'd be pretty happy as long as my husband thought I was hot.

Amaya says:

"Every woman is beautiful. Especially me!"

Overstimulated

2006-01-07T20:55:00.000-06:00

I think it's time that I tell you that I might not be living here this time next year. My school district has decided that cuts are in order, that is, they need to save money and they want to cut teachers. And I'm at the top of the list. I'll state the obvious and get it out of the way: {HERE I HAD TO DELETE SOME OF WHAT I'M SAYING BECAUSE IT SAID SOMETHING NEGATIVE ABOUT MY PLACE OF WORK} But the way I see it is that if they don't cut me, that means they cut somebody else, and I don't see any subject in this school where there are too many teachers. We're all working very hard and have classes filled to the brim. It might as well be me, right?
The fact is, God has always taken care of me and he always will. No question. I just wanted to share with you what I've known for almost two months now. If you didn't already know, well, now you do.

I get so confused lately when I'm at work. I see so many kids everyday that I get overstimulated. Sometimes I get asked so many questions in a day that by the end of the day I don't know which way is up. It's always good when I can think straight. Today was a good day for making theatre. Today we had rehearsal from 8 until noon, and it was fun. I could think straight. The actors in the show I'm directing call me, "The Monster". Why? I'm not scary. Also today, we had a work call. For you non-thespians, that means, "Come to school on a Saturday". Usually, work calls leave me exhausted, but today, my co-teacher was with us all day. She helped me understand some things about theatrical lighting that I never knew before, like that you could put lights on the floor behind the cyclorama. A cyclorama (cyc) is a big white drop that we hang behind the set and project lights and images onto it...sorta like a big movie screen. But we're putting lights behind it instead. What does it loook like? Well, you'll just have to come to our show to find out! Yes, all in all it was a good day, even though I fell off a chair and twisted my ankle, dropped a wooden pylon on my big toe, and got hit in the teeth by a wrench as it fell off a ten-foot ladder. My teeth really are very resilient.

The show dates are January 26 - 28, 7 pm. You really oughta come. It would be a great date show, but kid-friendly, too.

Read the Box

2006-01-03T22:58:00.000-06:00

Today I had my first escapade with the new Crockpot. It was a last-minute decision, about 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave for school and I hadn't yet finished getting ready yet. The thought of having dinner ready when I got home was more enticing than looking good, so I dumped the contents of a box of "Slow Cooker Helper" into the crockpot, plus the prescribed amount of water, and turned that puppy on. After doing all of this, I realized that the noodles were not supposed to be added until after the food had been cooked for 8-10 hours. "Oh Well!" I went to school, hair sort of pinned to my scalp in desperation.
When I finally made it home, eleven hours later, the smell greeted me. "Hmm...smells a lot like the school cafeteria." I went to check out the state of things. What I uncovered was truly horrifying. A mish-mash of dissolved noodles and meat, it looked a lot like puppy vomit. But never you mind. When you're a teacher, you've eaten almost anything. I was not deterred.

I should've been. I don't think I've ever tasted anything so nasty. Which brings me to wonder: Was this food ever destined to be good? They were the same basic ingredients, only cooked wrong. I'm sort of glad that I made it wrong because then my expectations were not too high to begin with. But is that any way to live your life--with low expectations? What if I married a guy who turned out to be a real stinker, but I was not too disappointed because when I went to that honky tonk I realized I wouldn't be getting a quality man anyway.

I bought an ipod today. Am I made of money? If so, where is it coming from? I think that buying so much at Christmas opened the floodgates. I usually don't make purchases like that. For that much money, I could buy
better food than what I had for dinner tonight.

In other more positive news, Lindsey came to stay with me last weekend. She even went to the New Years Eve Party with me with people from my church who she had never met before. I kind of mourn our friendship, though. It can never be exactly the same as it was. I pray that we still keep the common ground. And my relationship with God has taken a positive turn this week. I'm starting to realize that even if everything in my world seems to be going wrong, I can fight that with praise. I don't have to just sit there and take it. This is especially good because I know that there are probably some hard times ahead.

School...tomorrow!

2006-01-01T21:35:00.000-06:00

This is a picture of my sister, Susan, and her daughter Lindy. They are just two of the lovely people I got to spend time with over my two-week haitus from teaching. (Also known as Christmas Break.) Don't you think my sister looks like Meredith Viera from The View?

Now, everyone who isn't a teacher sometimes gets jealous because teachers not only get a Christmas break, but a three month break at summer. But I actually spent almost every hour thinking about school. Not on purpose. But whenever I see a teenager walk by with a shopping bag, I think about those giggly girls in my TAKS class who talk about Hollister all the time. Hollister! It was Abercrombie when I was in school, and Doc Martens. Am I ever glad that Doc Martens aren't popular anymore! I remember people wearing them with skirts. Ewww! I'm surprised they never came out with flip-flops.

I'm going to write more later. But for tonight, I really need to get some rest. I've got a full day of those li'l darlings tomorrow. Can't wait to see them and give 'em my mean face! Can't wait to take up their new ipods and cell phones and keep them in my desk! Can't wait to see what color the other teachers have dyed their hair. Most of all, I can't wait to go to musical rehearsal and see who forgot to memorize!

Oh! You guys need to come see our show! It's my high school directing debut. We don't know what we're charging yet. It's going to be a dessert theatre.

The dates are: January 26 - 28, 2006, 7 pm. Call or e-mail for more info.

Flirtation Devices

2005-12-15T16:18:00.000-06:00

Up until Sunday evening, when I revealed that I had a "crush", I have been quite careful never to reveal any personal details of my love life. That wall has crumbled.

But not in the way that you'd like.

I will not reveal his name, how I know him, or what he does for a living. Well...maybe not never, but not now. It's just wrong. But I can tell you this: You probably don't know him, and he lives in the same town as me.

The problem is that I don't get to be around him much and when I am around him, it's always small talk, "How are you?" and I always say, "Fine". I sometimes ask him about his...job...and he asks me about mine and I say, "Oh, it's good" in my sweetest voice.

Then he leaves to go back to his...uhhh...office. (It's sort of an office.)

Get this--I actually asked some high school students for advice! They said I should flirt with him or he'll never know that I like him. But unfortunately I have a real issue with flirting, I guess because when you flirt you sacricfice some level of friendship and professionality with that person. And if they don't reciprocate, that person starts avoiding you and it's just uncomfortable and not even worth it. In the past, my flirting plan-of-action was as follows:

1) Say Hi and ask how the guy is doing.
2) Punch him in the arm
3) Wait for him to ask me out.

You MUST try this routine. It's created countless love connections at our school.

But how should I flirt but still show him that I respect him? My stance is that I'm not going to be the pursuer.

Truly, if Jesus comes back, he will explain this all to me. He will say, "Heather, you shouldn't worry about these things. I always avoided flirtation as well."

And this concludes,
"Everything you never wanted to know about Heather, volume 1"

2005-12-12T23:11:00.000-06:00

Your Daddy Is Pedro Martinez

What You Call Him: Daddy Dearest

Why You Love Him: He knows best

Who's Your Daddy?

Things That Seem to Work

2005-12-11T22:21:00.000-06:00

My absolute favorite time of the week is Sunday night when I can curl up on my couch and watch tv until 10, then gaze up at the ceiling and wonder what the next week is going to be. Here are some things that are working themselves out. It keeps me from focusing on the things that haven't yet.

--Though I detest grading papers, I found out that if I take them to Starbucks or Borders, it's actually kind of fun.

--Last time I saw Nathan Tillotson, he looked great, and he sang in the praise team last week. Hooray for Nathan's healing face!

--I get to go to my sister's for Christmas, and my brother Chris says he's going to "drop by" with his family. I haven't seen them in quite awhile and I'm ecstatic.

--THE Lindsey Diann Jackson is coming to see me on New Year's and we're going to sing Tiny Dancer!

--My first dance recital is on Saturday. I'll be tap dancing...which is fun...but weird-feeling because it employs only the lower 1/3 of your body.

--There is a little girl named Minnie at church who may get to be adopted by her aunt and uncle. This would be a very good thing for Minnie, because she comes from a difficult background.

--On Friday, I will have officially survived half of my first year of teaching. It's all (hopefully) downhill from here!

--Christ Journey has the smartest, most artistically talented kids in the Universe. They have only two weeks to learn the Christmas play, and they nailed it in one rehearsal.

Things that you could pray about:

--My nephew Cole might get a youth ministry internship for the summer.

--My nephew Kevin. That he'd know how much we love him.

--Everything having to do with my precious parents, especially finances.

--Margaret Cason, a family friend, has been hospitalized. She has cancer.

--Ashlie, my student from school that I mentioned before.

--That I'll have the patience to deal psycho-parents of my students.

--That if my school makes the budget cut and gets rid of...me, that they can still have a great theatre program at our school.

--And I have a crush. Good...or bad?

That's all for tonight.

How are things in your world? That means LEAVE A COMMENT!

Prayer Request

2005-12-07T14:15:00.000-06:00

For whoever reads this, please pass it on.

I have a student in one of my theatre classes whose mother has cancer. She's known this for awhile, but yesterday, the doctor gave her mother 2 months to live. My prayer is for the girl, whose name is Ashlie, her family, and everyone who knows and loves this woman. Also, please pray that her teachers and friends might have the wisdom to say and do what we should in this situation.

God bless,
heather

What's Important?

2005-12-06T20:46:00.000-06:00

I want you to know that I'm never doing all of the things that I'm supposed to be doing, or that I know I need to do. I may never organize my bookbag or balance my checkbook until it's absolutely necessary. I don't clean house until the dirt becomes visible to the naked, nearsighted eye. My play is still not written, my lesson plans are a couple of days behind. And I wonder why I write here. Is it right for me to write to an audience like this, when I have so many other things to do? Which is most important--that's what I find myself asking so much of the time because as a teacher, I can never do it all. I have to choose, so which choice is the right choice, barring that somebody in my life needs something, which would always be the right decision. I've always asked myself if I'm a Mary or a Martha.
Last night I had to go to Wal-Mart. (Why does anybody go to Wal-Mart? Honestly. Honestly!) It was chilly, about 7:00. I bought my single-girl-food and pushed my cart all the way to the back of the parking lot where my car was parked. Right next to my car were two empty grocery baskets, just sitting there. I always see these sad-faced teenagers pushing carts in the rain, sleet, and snow, and I knew that I had to take at least these two carts to the cart collection spot. This made three carts, because I had one of my own to take. Have you ever tried to push three grocery carts at once? It's really hard unless you have a running start. One of the carts always wiggles around and it's like the carts are magnetically attracted to parked SUV's. Of course, the nearest cart collection bin was nowhere near my car, so I just kept pushing the carts, trying to stay out of the way of traffic, trying to keep the carts from crashing into people and cars. I smiled at people who walked by and waved a lot to pretend that I wasn't at all bothered by the cold wind, the wiggly carts, or the distance to the cart bin. No one waved back. Finally, I got the carts put away and I walked the mile or so back to my car. Everywhere I looked, there were more grocery carts. It felt like I had done nothing. I had to console myself by saying, "Well, that's three fewer carts to pick up." But I knew that no one would know about it and maybe the person who has to pick up all those carts would get discouraged, thinking that no one cares about them. I wanted to go back into Wal-Mart and scream, "Hey guys! I put my cart back!...Merry Christmas!"
I don't know how this all ties together; maybe it doesn't. I'm just reminded of my dear teacher Donna Hester at ACU. She shared lots of lovely quotes in our educational theatre class. One of them was by Mother Teresa, "We cannot do great things, only small things with great love." If we can't do everything, let's at least do the things that count. The tough thing sometimes is deciding what is important and what isn't.

p.s. I had a lovely day at school.

The Truth about Sports

2005-12-01T21:46:00.000-06:00

I have a confession to make. I don't like watching the NFL, the NHL, and the NBA. I hate movies with hot rods, stupid criminals, mafia lingo, and drug deals goin' down.

Folks, I'm all girl.

My Mom and my sister actually like to watch sports. For a while there, I was trying to make it appear that I loved sports because that's the right thing to do. I mean, I want my guy friends to think I'm down with the sports thing, but I usually zone out unless something really exciting happens. I was in marching band for eight years and the only thing I remember about all of those dozens of football games is that we got to eat nachos during the third quarter and sing, "Hey Baby" with the tuba section.

I only like to watch sports when I care about the team that's playing, and you know what? I only really want to watch the last five minutes of the game because it's then that you find out who's winning or losing. You can believe your team is winning for three whole quarters but if they can't keep it going the last quarter, it doesn't matter. They lose. Three whole hours of your life down the drain and they lose anyway. Take OU and Texas Tech for example. I was watching it with Kim, (Only the last five minutes, of course) and we SO had this game won. Then, because the clock wasn't out yet, Texas Tech has just enough time to move the ball and score. They kept getting first downs on bad calls, and they almost scored by throwing once but the guy stepped out of bounds. It was truly agonizing and then---then what? Tech wins. Hold the phone! I just invested all my energy and passion into the last and best five minutes of the game and my team loses! See this is why I watch movies and plays and read books! You're at least assured a happy ending, most of the time. If not, then there's Orlando Bloom, and he's the reason you decided to watch the movie anyway.

Really, the only person on earth that I find joy in watching sports with is my Daddy. He interacts with his television, yelling out statements like, "You stupid idiot!"; "You buncha bums!" and "He couldn't hit the broad side of a barn!". We love to say horrible things about the University of Texas. With my Daddy, no television is boring.

So now that you know the truth about me, don't invite me to come over and watch sports unless you don't mind someone who's going to talk the whole time until the last five minutes. I'm really glad I got that off my chest. If it means I'll never be one of the guys, well, so be it. At least you don't have to wonder whether or not to get me a subscription to Sports Illustrated for Christmas.

For Annette

2005-11-27T22:23:00.000-06:00

I'm blogging again because I found out that Annette reads my blog. Annette's the coolest! She said that she's going to bring me lunch at school this week and we're going to eat in the teacher's lounge and listen to all the gossip. Oh, you want to know what kind of gossip? Well, I can't tell you too much because I'd get fired. But here's a sampling of recent topics:

1.Yogurt: It seems all the ladies who lunch have heard the commercials that eating yogurt will help you burn fat. So what I'd always considered a breakfast food has now become everyone's lunch. I brought a little container of yogurt (lemon...because it doesn't have smushed fruit in it!) but I can't bring myself to eat it for lunch. So by now, it may have gone bad.

Can yogurt go bad? Isn't it like...milk gone bad? How do they tell yogurt not to become cottage cheese or sour cream?

2. Weight Watchers: Where there are adult women, there are women who long to feel better about themselves than they already do. I have learned to keep my mouth shut during these discussions. I didn't choose to be born with a hard-working metabolism, and if I were overweight, I'd probably diet too. But I'd quit eating sugar. That's much healthier than not eating much, or just eating yogurt.

3. Big Ol' Televisions: One of the teachers' husbands got himself the mother of all television sets and now they're closing in their garage to make a special "place" for his 2,000 inch flatscreen.

4. Cursing: We all decided that it is our guilty pleasure to hear little kids say curse words. We agree that this is very wrong, but can't help but laugh when a little one unknowingly says, "Damn" ....or better yet, the F-bomb!

5. Bad classroom experiences: I won't divulge any. All I have to say is, you've got to vent sometimes, and you usually want to get loads of sympathy. Perfect audience? Other teachers.

6. Our kids and grandkids: I've thought about pretending I have kids so I'll have something to say. What do you think I should name my pretend kid? What about "Arliss"?

Things we DON'T discuss in the teacher's lounge: (Not sure why)

1. Clothes
2. Tv shows
3. Personal problems
4. Recipes
5. The latest hairstyles

This is great, huh? I've just given you an inside track into the exciting life of a teacher!

So let me ask you: What do they talk about at your lounge? Wait...don't tell me....Yogurt!

Would you rather...

2005-11-18T00:17:00.000-06:00

Have a whole month off for Christmas, but have to work 12-hour shifts at Wal-Mart for a week afterward?
or...

Only have to work Christmas day at your current job?

Just wondering. I didn't mean to think Christmas yet, it's just been forced on me by our commercially-driven society. It's even taken over my radio. I just heard the year's debut of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

2005-11-13T22:27:00.000-06:00

I realize now that people would rather see a picture than 1,000 words. So let me close out our weekend with a picture of this cutie. His name is Luke Wilson, and despite my best efforts to get him to be my buddy, the little guy refused to stay with me at church nursery a few weeks ago. (Sigh)

No One is Alone

2005-11-12T09:59:00.000-06:00

The school musical this year is a combination of songs from various musicals by Stephen Sondheim. This song is not in the show, but it is by Sondheim. It's called "No One is Alone". For reasons I can't share, it seems appropriate for some friends of mine.

Sometimes people leave you

Half-way thru the woods.

Others may deceive you.

You decide what's good

You decide alone; But no one is alone.

People make mistakes.

Fathers, mothers,

People make mistakes.

Holding to their own,

Thinking they're alone.

Honor their mistakes.

Everybody makes

One another's terrible mistakes.

Witches can be right.

Giants can be good.

You decide what's right.

You decide what's good.
Just remember: someone is on your side.

Someone else is not.

While you're seeing your side

Maybe you forgot

No one is alone. Truly, no one is alone.

Holistic Healing

2005-11-10T15:11:00.000-06:00

Ever feel like there are a hundred roadblocks to your life?
I've had a lot of those lately.
My computer was broken, so I couldn't do lesson plans unless I stayed at the school and used my work computer. (A pea-shooter) My printer doesn't get the message that it's connected to my computer now that it's fixed, so I have to e-mail those lesson plans to my school comptuer to print them. I got sick this week, and wanted to go to the doctor. However, my doctor in Dallas won't take my PPO, so I had to ask someone for the number of a new doctor in my area. I found one. Then the insurance company had the wrong address for me, so I never got my health insurance card, so I had to call them and get a special number to use my insurance. The pharmacists scoffed at my little insurance number written on a piece of paper and said I'd have to pay out-of-pocket for the meds and then file a claim later. My apartment hasn't cut me a key to my mailbox yet, so I have to go and ask them to open up my mailbox for me to get the mail. And my nose is stopped up. I have to breathe through my mouth like Napoleon Dynmaite. This gives me chapped lips, but I can never find chapstick while at school. At least the nurse has like five sticks in her drawer.

This is not a complaint. You can see that in every case there is a way out, but it requires side-stepping what's in my way, taking a little extra time, and in most cases, asking for help. I don't like to ask for help. My anthem since August has been "Miss Independent" but everyday, something shows me that I am probably less independent now than I ever was before. Because I need people in my life. When the convenient way doesn't work, I need to look somebody in the eye and say, "I can't do this". Sometimes I don't like the answer they give me and I get sulky. Like today when my (new) doctor told me that I just need to take over-the-counter drugs to get better. She doesn't know my background of sinus infections for four months in a row! (Anyone from Skillman can vouch for this) Sometimes I don't letting anyone know that I need help. I'd like to think that my problems can be fixed without anybody's help. After all, I'm independent now. Sometimes I go down a path that I know I shouldn't because by taking that road, I can hide what is really wrong with me. Asking for help means laying your cards on the table in a vulnerable, revealing manner. It means that others could see that I'm not always what I pretend to be at school or in church.

You can see where this is going. I think analogies are my way of dealing with tough things, because I can see my spiritual self in a tangible way.
Also, I believe that the spirit and the body and the mind are inextricably connected. When my body is sick, amazingly, my spirit is usually sick too. Not that God is punishing me or anything like that, but when you're down, you're down all over.

Last year when I was at my most sick, my parents were out of town. I stayed with my cousin Billie Faye because and she gave me a copy of her Natural Remedies book. She (being the giving person that she is) also stocked me up on vitamins that I'd never heard of, like acidopholus and flaxseed oil? These vitamins, along with antibiotics, were the end of my four-month-long battle with respiratory crud. I was finally free!

Now that I have a sinus infection, I knew that it takes more than medication to get over a cold. Medication usually comes in and kills something off. Plus, it always seems like medications have these nasty side-effects that are worse than the actual illness.
Example:
"Medicine should stop congestion and runny nose. Side effects include vomiting, diarhea, and wetting your pants at inconventient moments."

But the vitamins give your body some strength to rebuild. I'm going to take those horse-pill sized vitamins, by golly! And we'll see what happens. At the same time, I'm started a more rigorous bible study program with Elasha, a friend from church. I want to be well all over. I'll let you know how it goes.

I missed out!

2005-11-02T18:53:00.000-06:00

These pictures make me smile. They're from the Skillman Friends class halloween party. Wish I could've been there!

Christ Journey Pics

2005-11-01T20:51:00.000-06:00

This is Heidi, my new friend from church. Note the cookies. We eat cookies at my church. Yeah, you should be jealous.

This is Heidi and Chris's daughter Torie. You can see why I love hanging out with Torie. She's just been swimming and has chocolate cake on her face. The girl knows how to have a good time!

Better all the time

2005-10-28T22:51:00.000-05:00

I love it when faith begins to make sense--when God begins to create and reveal in you the things you felt were so far away, but now are coming true. It's not the things I wanted. Instead of activity he has given me solitude. Instead of someone to date, he's given me companions who cherish their singleness. I have a thorn in my side, loneliness. But is it really a thorn? I knew that one day I would begin to see it as a blessing. It's started today.

And maybe tomorrow I'll fall back into the trap again. But I'm just so grateful for everyone's prayers. I think that God has been encouraging me in many ways to seek him first. That idea seemed like a foreign to me, because I've always had spiritual friends and family that also walked with me in the Lord. Turning to them was turning to God, because they'd help me see straight and pray over me in times of need. That season in my life is somehow over now. I don't live with my best friends, I live by myself...in an apartment complex filled with people that I don't know yet. I miss Lindsey. When I would have a bad day, I'd go and throw myself on her bed and spill the beans. And Lauren, because we'd always laugh at the same things. Kim would beat me up a lot, like a sister. And Allison, was always there when I'd come home, making some kind of craft on the living room floor. God gave me these amazing friends and now I have to be away from them. I can't even list all of my Skillman friends. It seems like I just got to feel closeness with them and I had to pack up and leave. This was totally my choice, I got exactly what I wanted. But still...

I don't know what will come out of this except strength. I can still use prayers because this is the fire, and I'll be here for some time. But I also know that many of you have experienced what it's like to live on your own in a new place before, or get a new job that wasn't easy. I delight in sharing your stories, because they are stories of victory. Mine will be, too.

(Lindsey, Lauren, Allison, and me.)

Check out my school pics!

2005-10-27T22:22:00.000-05:00

Do I look like a teacher to you?

My vices

2005-10-22T20:29:00.000-05:00

Some people take to drinking when they've had a hard day. I just eat the candy that I bought to reward my students.

I want to apologize for not speaking much "life" lately. When I wrote my teaching mission statement, one of my statements was, "I will speak life and not death, I will try to build up and not tear down." And of course, nobody's perfect. But I've got to try to hold to that. I told my sister that I didn't think anybody could see Jesus in me at school. Sometimes I'm just so disappointed that I forget to be thankful. This weekend, boring though it may be, has given me a lot of time to just think about who I am and what I started out trying to accomplish. It's a good thing that I'm directing again, because sometimes I feel like I lose theatre (my first love) in all this mess of "official school duties." You want me to tell you about some of the good stuff? The other day a student who had been especially difficult to deal with came to my room after school, just to hang out. He hasn't showed up to my class much in the past 6 weeks, because it's his goal to drop out of school. Other teachers say he's been trying to drop out since the 7th grade. I'm not sure if it means a lot to say he came by just to hang out, but the truth is, I've written him up four times and used up all of my energy trying to get him to do his work. The fact that he hasn't slashed my tires (he threatened to last week) is a sure sign that maybe he does care about school. Well, we'll see.
And have I told you? My students made me a beautiful collage using a poster from the show and real ticket stubs. They also used a scrap of the wallpaper from the set we built. It's one of the coolest gifts I've ever gotten.
And another happy ending! Remember my favorite jeans0--the ones covered in brown paint? Well, I bought some dark brown clothing dye and they came out so well, you can't even tell the paint from the rest of the jeans. My students gave me their seal of approval when they told me they now looked like "Emo Jeans". (Emo, I learned, is short for "emotional", and it's a rocker-thing.)

There will be more good stuff, and I'll try to report it. Hold me accountable, guys. I want to speak life, not death.

But expect me to vent when I'm covered in brown paint.

Have a wonderful weekend.

"I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes in him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life."
John 5:24

Bad Movie List

2005-10-21T19:20:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to compile a list of the worst movies of all time. I consider this a valuable contribution to society. This way, your hard-earned money and precious time don't get wasted on a movie that will make you nauseated. Also, some people actually enjoy watching bad movies and find them sort of humorous. If you could think of just one to add to my list, it would be complete in no time. Here's what I've got so far.

--Grease 2: Possibly the worst music ever written. The hero saves the day by driving his motorcycle into a large, above-ground pool. Oooh! Daring!

--Frankie and Johnny: Here you can catch Elvis sporting a tight-fitting band uniform and singing about showboat gambling.

--The Core: If you watch it, you'll see that they tried to copy the movie Armageddon. Hillery Swank is in it, and she isn't even good.

--Dude, Where's My Car: I don't have to see a movie to know it stinks. I learn from the mistakes of others.

--Bedazzled: Unless you want to see Brendan Frazier dressed as a Columbian drug lord. Nah, didn't think so.

--Wagons East: This is Renee's Dad's favorite movie. My Dad would probably love it, too. But still....

Do you have any movies to add to my list? I'll publish them when it's done, and I'll credit you for your contribution to society.

I found this website dedicated to bad movies: www.badmovies.org

A story Renee can't wait to tell!

2005-10-17T18:19:00.000-05:00

I don't have anything funny. No--really. Ahhh wait. I DO have something funny. Renee and Jen spent the weekend with me, right? They are so nice, they came to see my show and spent a couple of days at my apartment and kept me company (which makes them high on my list of great friends). Anyway, we all slept in the same room because really, we may be 24 but slumber parties are still fun. And in the middle of the night, I supposedly screamed out something about school, waking up Renee. Apparently I was making some sort of strange sucking noise with the roof of my mouth. I just wanted to tell you all before Renee did, so I could beat her to the punch. She'll be telling you the story about how I made that sucking noise, and you can say,

"Renee, I already read that story on Heather's Blog."

Renee's gonna kill me. I know that, yet I have no fear.

I wrote two kids up last week at school and they put in their journals, in great big letters, TREAT PEOPLE WITH EQUALITY AND DON'T SHOW FAVORITISM! Because apparently punishing the students who misbehave and not the whole class is considered favoritism. Whatever. They still had to write those journals. What they say in them only makes me laugh a little bit.

The show this weekend was a great success. That's really all I want to say about that. It was such a struggle all around, and the stress of it was killer. I don't remember a time when I was more ready to get a show over and done with. It's like I have two jobs: Theatre teacher and regular, rule-abiding, copy-machine fixing, attendance taking teacher. One of those jobs gets neglected in times like these and, it isn't theatre.

In other news, my 18-year-old nephew Cole has a GIRLFRIEND. I don't know if I like her. I haven't met her yet. The odds really aren't in her favor as far as our family's concerned. I can just hear my sister saying, "She doesn't play any sports!"

Well, that's all I can think of to say right now. (Lucky for you!)

I love you all very much, and I think about you often.

Keep my family in your prayers.

Tainted by Paint

2005-10-07T12:50:00.000-05:00

Here I sit, the lower right side of my body completely covered in brown paint. I might add, I'm wearing my favorite jeans, my new belt, and a new yellow shirt. Brown paint. I smell it. It's seeped into my skin by now, I just know it. Well, at least I'll have a tan. It's really depressing, being covered in brown paint. You should know that it was an accident, and only moments before, I was wearing coveralls, but I took them off...just in time to see two girls misbehaving. I tripped, looked down, and saw that the paint pan I was carrying had spilled its contents all over me. My students laughed at me. Can you believe it? How cruel. I guess I shouldn't wear anything that I really like to school because it will eventually get ruined by paint and sawdust in the scene shop.

What if the paint fumes cause brain damage?

You know, in moments like these it's nice to know that at least Jesus loves me.

That's ridic!

2005-10-01T21:59:00.000-05:00

Life goes by so fast. Just think about how many seasons of Friends you watched! And before that, the Cosby show. Did you watch all of those seasons? You know the Cosby show is on Nick at Nite now. Do you know what "Emo" means? Me neither. Pretty soon we'll be on the fast track to oldsville.

Kim and I just got home from Lauren's wedding in Houston. (Yes, that's right. Hurricane Rita didn't destroy the chapel where she was getting married!) Never have I seen a more flawless wedding, relatively speaking of course. Nobody threw up, gave birth, split their dress, lost the rings, or punched the best man's lights out. All in all, it was a lovely experience, actually a lot of fun for everybody and not just the Bride's mother. (As is often the case because of long and boring slide shows.) I was so happy for them. And it was also great just to spend some time with my old friends and see how much we'd changed. Which brings me to ask anyone who reads this: Is it a good thing to want to be taken seriously? Because despite how silly I act, I always want to be taken seriously. I mean, who wants their thoughts and comments to be thought of as a joke...well...except when they are a joke. Ever been in the company of a person who takes everything you say seriously, never catching the humor you try to inject? That's no fun, is it? So which is better--to be taken seriously or not?

I think people take me seriously. Do you take me seriously? Wait--don't answer that!

The reason I bring it up is because I said something to my friend Kim on the way to Houston...something happened that caused me to declare, "That's ridic!" (You know, the word "ridiculous" shortened is "ridic". It's like slang that didn't catch on except with people like me who want their students to think they're cool.) Anyway, I said, "Oops! I said Ridic! How are you ever going to take me seriously when I say stuff like that!" And Kim said, "Why are you trying to make me take you seriously? Does it matter?"

I don't know! But until this mystery is solved, I'll keep using words like "ridic".

Peace out.

That Rita Chick

2005-09-21T22:18:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-09-20T21:13:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-09-19T20:14:00.000-05:00

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

2005-09-17T22:24:00.000-05:00

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

2005-09-15T22:23:00.000-05:00

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

2005-09-09T22:08:00.000-05:00

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.

Spit wads and Homework

2005-08-27T22:01:00.000-05:00

Sometimes all you need is a little sleep and to eat your vegetables.
Did I tell you I made a kid lick a spit wad off of the whiteboard today? I did. That shows my maturity as a teacher, I’m sure. I should have sent the kid to the office immediately, but instead I laughed about the spit wad that landed and stuck five inches from my head as I was explaining the lesson today. Come to find out, there were dozens of spitwads all over my classroom and I was totally oblivious to their launches. There are two very wicked wads, for instance, on my ceiling, each about an inch in diameter. Can you imagine? So I had Martin lick the spitwad off the whiteboard. The kids thought I really was having a great time, and then I punished the whole class for not fessing up to the two big ones on the ceiling. Well, I may be immature. But I’m not stupid. A little peer pressure goes a long way. We’ll see how many of them actually did their homework tonight. Plus, they have a quiz tomorrow. Sometimes I hate being responsible for other people’s human development.

After Note: Only two of them actually did their homework. The rest got zero’s. Don't tell anyone, because I was supposed to send them to Friday Night Lights: a misery of afterschool detention cleverly packaged with a fun-sounding name.

Day of the Elvis Pelvises

2005-08-23T22:00:00.000-05:00

Today was my second day, and much more complicated. You can always hide first day jitters by reading syllabi and laying ground rules, acting meaner than you have to, and playing name-games. Today I started working math problems in my remedial TAKS classes and then realized I had forgotten most of the basic algebraic equations. In dance class, I gave a student-centered assignment and then hijacked it, turning it into a lecture, which earned me a scathing scolding by a student who told me yesterday that she was dropping the class. (Would that she had.) At any rate, I heard more innuendo today than I’d care to hear in a lifetime. It’s true what they say…that every generation thinks they invented sex. These kids act like I don’t know what they’re talking about! I pretend not to, because I’ve learned that if you cast a knowing glance, they assume you appreciate their humor and want to hear more. Yes, I already play dumb. Their jokes are a trap. They want to know where I stand and I’d rather kiss a toilet seat than preach abstinence. I’d rather be a living example, because everything else just fails. It just seems like I keep saying the wrong things. The tech theatre class erupted at the word “nut” yesterday. We were talking about hardware! That doesn’t even cover what happened when I explained legs, teasers, and thrust stages. One boy even demonstrated his joke for everyone, just in case we missed the joke the first two, three, four times. Wow. If there’s one thing that makes me squirm, it’s skinny high school boys with Elvis-Pelvises.

Only the First Day!

2005-08-22T23:15:00.000-05:00

Today was my first day of teaching, and we still haven’t chosen a play yet. It will be performed in about eight weeks, whatever it is. I am not directing it. We’ve looked at everything, it seems, and were about to settled on Dearly Departed when we realized that we’d be making a huge social commentary on the town we just moved to, when all they’ve ever done before were classics. (sigh) We just don’t know what to choose. It needs to be a comedy, but we are looking at Golden Boy by Clifford Odets, which is one of those edgy realism plays from the Federal Theatre Project. Not too funny, but compelling. We’re also thinking about The Crucible. Talk about not funny! We can’t find anything that really compels us, Tempa and I, and I think that she is starting to give up hope. Not me, though. Everything is brand new here, and I’ll take any artistic project I can get my hands on. I may regret claiming that, but I’m hungry for some kind of far-away play, the kind you only learn about in theatre History or hear that Steppenwolf is doing in their season.

Oh yeah! I taught today. Well it felt like just another day at CATS, only longer, and with more papers to keep up with. Me, up in front of the kids, fighting for their attention, their respect, and their minds. Tomorrow, I don’t think I will fight so hard. After all, learning is in their hands. I’m utterly spent. It’s 9:00 and I’m going to bed.

Love always,
Heather