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| The DNa Chronicles 20 most recent entries |
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(1 footprint in the sand | dare to dance the tides)
Ever since I was an infant, I've taken to moonlighting...in the sleep preferential sense, that is. At first requiring very little sleep as a baby, my mother worried, consulted the pediatrician, assuming something must be wrong with me. But every time, the physician patted my mother on the shoulder, smiled, and said it was more common than she thought. And over the years, I've stayed that way. I just don't sleep. I'm not actually an "insomniac" as the title would suggest, but definitely sleep-confused in the circadian sense. Too many things to do. Too many things to think about. My willpower has always been at war with my body, seeing exhaustion as a challenge, succumbing to slumber only when absolutely necessary to continue on, or merely when caught off-guard (you know how "20-minute naps" work...). Somehow it's always been a secret effort of my will to strive for the wakened state as much as possible. I pulled my first late nights on homework (10:30pm) in 4th grade. Pulled my first complete all-nighter as a sophomore in high school, and at least one or two a year from there. Began doing them regularly (e.g. monthly) in late college, early graduate school...and so on. Homework became the priority; health fell far, far behind (let's just say it's good that my metabolism has adapted, haha). When staying caught up on my running or needed to function for long work days, I've come to appreciate my full nights of sleep. I know it makes me more alert and more easily able to function in the academic sense (with less time, effort, brainpower, etc.)...but sometimes, I just never get "around" to it. Instead, there are online newspapers, social networking sites, friends to talk to over AIM, journals to write, "schtuff" to think about (or not think about by getting sucked into the aforementioned realms). At "finals" (portfolio, term paper, etc.) time, I've become a regular pro at pulling an all-nighter or two. Heck, if anything, I typically end up writing best under pressure, and thus, end up pulling one about every time a large piece is due (napping during the day or going to bed early the next night, of course). And I keep doing it because the sheer volume of writing I can generate with no distractions is unfathomable. The difficulty is that after such a stretch, I'll sometimes have a bit of trouble getting back on "schedule" (I laugh to call it a schedule...I typically fall asleep whenever whenever my head hits the pillow)...but it's typically nothing a Benydryl or a run and a good nights rest can't fix. This time, I did a real number on myself, and if there any true insomniacs or nocturnal folks out there (past or present), you know exactly where I'm coming from. Finals ended a *week* ago. And, still, here I am. Granted, it's Holiday Break, so I can thankfully afford to miss a few days, but we're talking a week now. A week of dragging myself on during the days (haha, well, until I sleep until just before my parents get home from work and can make myself look presentable...then I'm well-rested). A week of not getting to catch friends for lunch or coffee. A week of total lack of productivity. I can't find the motivation to go to sleep. I've tried prescription sleep medication (though have yet to take it regularly, as my body is ultra-sensitive to those kinds of things) and my body still defeats the falling-asleep elements...By this I mean I'll take it and then get distracted, and miss the window of opportunity in which I should fall asleep. Then (until I pass out finally), I'm just...up. Falling asleep at some random hour finally (typically 4-6 hours later), and then not waking up until well into the afternoon, as the "medicinal sensitivity" factor means that if I ever do fall asleep, I'll be out for 12 hours, my willpower finally faded. Typically, if I get to this place, I'll just stay up one more time, wear myself out and get myself on track that way. However, it's been one epic fail after another in this realm, like I've said, leaving me to not droop until after sunrise at some point. Then depending on the day, I'll either remain asleep for a couple hours or until 2, 3, 4 in the afternoon (alarms do little at this point), thereby setting myself up for little to no sleep the next time around. The closest I've gotten to success was taking medicine at midnight (I know, a little too late), didn't fall asleep until 2...and then didn't wake up until 3...in the afternoon. There was no way I could sleep the next night, obviously. But here I've made it, 6+AM (I made it to 7:30 though yesterday), and I'm rather awake. So if I can just keep my mind busy enough today (reading, writing, crocheting, movie-watching, cleaning, music-playing, Rubiks Cube repititions, etc.), perhaps it'll all be over after tonight. It's time like these I really want to be on the fighting side of sleep. I know how great it is when I do get my 8-10 hours (which is what I really need) on a regular basis, but I can just never seem to keep it up. Something about that blasted curse of desiring and even forming regimens or schedules, but not being able to see them through for the long-term. Thus, when I do have the routine down, I tend to be stubbornly clingy and adamant that nothing distracts me (doing everything in my power to make my workouts & regular sleeping and eating habits a true priority). I'll try to avoid the the internet, extra television, or anything that will get me back on my "current" track (Track B for "bad/bedtime-deprived"), and maybe that's what it'll take to get me to fix it. (I almost did it last night, 11:30pm with the goal of sleeping by midnight...and I was tired then, too...but when midnight came around, I was all awake again...as if it could be 2 in the afternoon.) This blog isn't intended to act as any form of complaint. More so a record of the "other extreme" from which I will certainly swing in the days ahead. Once the new semester arrives, I'll surely have fallen back in love with sleep and proper eating and workout times, but for now, I live the night life. Yesterday was the first day I really actually got out and saw the sunlight since Sunday, crazy. If nothing else is motivation, that should be. (That, and the normalization of brain chemistry which would derive from it, winter factors aside.) This winter weather should be inviting enough to encourage sleep, right? If only I were addicted to something "easy" like caffeine, rather than blasted willpower. But hey, things could always be worse. And honestly? I know plenty of people who have to work nights out of the shift hand they've been given or out of necessity, so really, choosing to take this walk is hardly the same playing field. (In some ways, is it more telling that I did it to myself out of choice?) I'll turn this one over to you: ...What do you typically do to get your circadian rhythms back on track?? How well does it work? Have you ever given your hypothalamus an extreme run for its money? --Edit 4:23PM-- Crashed from 9AM-3:30PM...Nooooooooo... (2 footprints in the sand | dare to dance the tides)
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Been in the mood to play one of my favorite songs, and band practice isn't until Saturday, sooooo...perhaps you'll find it at least amusing, my silly whim. (Hoping to actually redo it as a group or something eventually, just for kicks.) I had recorded the piano layer on the baby grand back at home before classes started (hence the iffy start between the instruments), and the guitar part still needs a lot of work, but that's all right. It's basically just missing the violin, but we'll save that for when I'm REALLY bored, ha. I recently joined a band with some guy friends here at school, so that's fun. It's nice to make non-church music once in a while and get to play piano on a more regular basis. Speaking of violins, they stumbled upon a pretty decent one in an antique shop on the square and found out that I used to halfway know how to play, so you can imagine who's excited for the new bow to come in on Thursday! I'm sure it will not be a stellar start, but perhaps I can at least teach myself a bit more than I knew back when I was 12 or so... (Don't worry, I got it checked out by a legit music store and they said it wasn't going to explode when I'm playing or anything, despite being way cheap, so that's uber exciting.)Life has been interesting as of late. Plans keep changing. Situations keep changing. Classes keep getting more writing intensive and student-run. Professional conferences are coming right up. Breaks are approaching, as are weddings (and, consequently, wedding music-playing). Through it all, I find myself just going with the flow, which is a great challenge in general. Staying more centered, focused, open. Having conversations with complete strangers. Taking photographs. Reading for fun. Sleeping. Running. Spending time alone and with others. Trying not to spend very much time on the internet (the summer definitely helped). Challenging myself to see my faith in new ways, since the old ways keep shedding away like tissue paper. Walking to places and savoring the sunshine. Not being so uptight. People around me (family, friends, etc.) keep worrying about me, which is flattering, but I'm not so sure the energy is well placed. Sometimes things work out as we hope. Sometimes they change and grow into new things, like shape-shifting transformers. And it's all a part of life. I try my best not to hurt others in the process, but I know I do anyway (which pains me to know), though such is clearly not my intention. But now I'm really using this time to work on improving me. Figuring out what it is I want, not just what others want. In a sense, going back to the cliche bit of "finding myself," not that I ever lost it; not that I don't do enough introspection as it is. But I'm still working on finding my adult self--who I really want to be as a human being (not just careers--that's basically in place in at least some form). I don't really expect answers or full resolution, as we're always growing and asking more and more questions. But at least I'm enjoying asking the questions right now. Life's not exactly how I imagined it would be right now, but the great majority is pretty grand. I need to work on being more grateful for what I do have, instead of getting caught in the things I've lost or not received. The chances I have yet to be able to take. I know that if they are the right chances, my time will come and I'll get to show the world what I'm made of. But for now, I write, I observe, I sing, I live, I experiment, I dive in where I can. I breathe. Shalom.
I'm starting to realize how much I've changed. Which is a good thing, believe me. When the sun came up, We were sleeping in, Sunk inside our blankets, Sprawled across the bed, And we were dreaming, There are moments when, When I know it and The world revolves around us, And we're keeping it, Keep it all going, This delicate balance, Vulnerable all knowing, Sing like you think no one's listening, You would kill for this, Just a little bit, Just a little bit, You would, kill for this You would, you would... Sing me something soft, Sad and delicate, Or loud and out of key Sing me anything, We're glad for what we've got, Done with what we've lost Our whole lives laid out right in front of us, Sing like you think no one's listening, You would kill for this, Just a little bit, Just a little bit, You would, you would.... -Straylight Run
(1 footprint in the sand | dare to dance the tides)
 ^So, perhaps I was a procrastinating a little this morning by way of Microsoft Paint/Publisher, but hey, it was fun! I was curious about where the phrase "in a pickle" came from after a conversation with Chels, and then had the crazy though: "Wow, that would really suck to *actually* be in a pickle," (in whatever context that would even be possible). But it merely starts back with Shakespeare, should have known.^ At the beginning of this calendar year, I wrote the entry On Indecision, a piece which I recalled today for the sake of trying to extract some kernel of wisdom which might have slipped away in recent history. Wisdom found or not, it was an odd sensation to read the fruits of this same keyboard, which might as well have been written by another, yet still felt familiar enough to call my own. Lately, I've been reflecting upon the concept of doubt much more than one probably should. In my life, doubt acts as the catalyst for indecision, surely, but it is a phase out of which I must grow or be inspired to let go (either by another or myself). However, while it resides within me, waiting to be pushed out or forgotten, it often eats away at the sugar-coated parts of my life, leaving things which once felt whole ranging from a state of just-off-par to a state completely riddled or worn away by cynicism exposed. in my mind, no sane man or woman could ever ask for doubt on purpose, its infection bursting forth at the most unexpected of times, but I must say that I believe it does arrive for a reason. After a bit of time and upon realizing one's patterns, I argue that doubt can actually point us in the direction of what we really want in our lives--or at least make us aware that perhaps something isn't "quite right." Some would call the acknowledgement of such "cold feet," others, "selfishness" or "insecurity," but I think doubt is so much more than that--at least in the truest sense of the word. One could even say it's the emotion we name for the holes in our lives. Some of these holes evolve from feeling "wronged," while others come from lapses in the continuity of one's own positive upkeep. Of course, there are countless other reasons for holes, but empty spaces they are, all the same (or at least, that's how they are masked). 'How do I escape doubt?' one might ask. After all, people are always jumping to find answers, rarely spending time on the question which they are asking. I instead wonder if the real concern should be defining what doubt is, where it comes from and why, rather than merely turning a blind eye and sprinting off into the shadowless places of life. It's a shame to think that one could even spend his or her whole life fleeing a concept which he or she never really understood in the first place, let alone recognized for its purpose. When one finds his or herself in the 'pickle' of doubt, no matter what the context, perhaps here are some questions to consider (though, I'm certainly no Dr. Phil...): *What qualities, situations, comments, events, feelings, etc. appear to initiate doubt in my life? *What has made it vanish in the past (or at least disappear for the time being)? *How does my doubt affect others? *What is it I despise so much about doubt within a given context? What side-effects about it frustrate me? *What -good- does doubt serve in my life? How has it urged me on toward positive change? *What does doubt really show me about myself? How do I react to its presence in my life? How should I? Those could at least be some places to start, though I know I need to tackle those questions myself (not just brainstorm and send them into oblivion). Then again, perhaps I shouldn't be so afraid of having doubt here and there. While it is definitely ill-advised to become consumed by it, a little trickle of uncertainty now and then could be the very ticket to opening eyes (be it to a longing for stronger confidence, support, or any number of named concepts). Instead, once the trouble-spots have been named, it seems best not to sit and wait for the compromised condition to disappear, but to graduate to one of two choices: patching up the leaks or breaking down for a new roof purchase, even though neither may be the avenue one might have preferred. I still wish there were the third option: magic. (Though I'm sure a little prayer for a miracle never hurt.)
 ^That^ is me celebrating my freedom...until two seconds later, when I recalled that I still have a lot of grad hours left. But those were still a sweet two seconds at least. Actually, I felt like a failure in the end. My parents didn't bring an air horn. What kind of parents don't bring wild and obnoxious noisemakers to respectable institutional ceremonies!? Too bad I'm not kidding (actually...I am). Now before you were going to make that crack about victory laps, my extra boost of undergraduate education (with a heavy semester plus worth of graduate credits) did at least allow me to sit with some of my favorite friends in the last row. We totally did it on purpose so we could look incredibly cool waving to those text messaging us from the audience. But don't take my word for it:  (Keep in mind that this photo was merely stumbled upon on Facebook by yours truly. I was more than obliged to tag Sir Daniel Buh-tig and myself for obvious reasons, but that red circle is totally me. I wouldn't let anyone else take credit for that part. By the way, we didn't really end up in the last row on purpose. We really weren't that cool, just almost, but that's a start. We were totally paying attention to the University President's speech, just not facing in the proper direction. During Truman's grandson's speech, we were totally facing the front, because he was just cool. Oh, and did you know that you're not supposed to have parenthetical asides longer than their paragraphical counterparts? P.S. Xanga, paragraphical is a real word, just for your records. Moving on...) Besides waving to friends and family like the fool I was, I also crossed the stage like a fool, cutting off a group of nurses with another B.S./B.A.'er friend in the process (hey, we didn't know they'd announce them the same as us). However, my favorite part of the day was not getting to have GG (age 99, in case you didn't catch that before) as well as Grandma, my significant other sweetums, little sister (who graciously came to watch me graduate, even though she had lots of important things to do, being a high school senior and all), and parents watch me graduate and take me to the cool Pear Tree restaurant directly following the ceremony. Instead, it was the following line (roughly recalled by this point) by a random mathematics professor, as shouted to a past student in my proximity during the processional: "I knew I shouldn't have passed him in College Algebra. Too late now, I guess." Following good ol' grad-to-the-uation, I spent a chunk of days in the 'ville with friends after and was able to enjoy a couple more nice conversations with the most excellent, Fr. Bill. He'll no longer be working with the Edina and Memphis parishes, so no more country music ministering for me for a while (not that I played country music, but I did minister to country folk whom probably did sadly enjoy said genre), but I'm grateful that he won't have to travel so much anymore, given the tolls his health and the rebuilding process have taken on him. (I hope I'll get to meet up with him at least once this summer...as I was planning to be there all July, which is no longer the case.) ****************************************  Landmark #2: Nazareth Farm Service Trip (Centerpoint, West Virginia -- May 18-24, 2008) Despite the prior cancellation of this trip (curse indecisive friends, etc.), it panned out (as fate or other would have it?) that I was able to go to Nazareth Farm with Scott and Sam...very last-minute like, even for my tastes, but hey, better late than never. But it was a worthwhile, brilliant experience, to say the least, which will continue to shine in my memory for some time...and I'm thankful that I agreed to travel 14 hours x 2 with two smelly boys in a toaster on wheels. By the way, Google maps is very misleading.   The blue box outside ^this^ building does not equal to ^this^...at all...just in case you were wondering. Hey, not all Route Boxes are at the post office, I speak from personal mailbox experience (not as a mail order bride but as a prior farm girl. Yes, I used to live on a farm, but you probably didn't know that, but one learns something new everyday, right?) Back on the farm/near it...there is something downright mystical about those mountains and the people who reside there. They are not separated by walls; in fact, many of them share them without limit. I loved not living by the watch and knowing that I had seized every moment of every day...working to keep my eyes and heart open. I spent the week working on accepting where I am now in life and realizing with appreciation that each of us has our gifts--perhaps ones which weren't expected to shine above others--but gifts which we must choose whether or not share (in careers, in life, in everything), no less. It was also interesting to go there after having experienced so many "faith changes" since my last "mission trip," which seems like a lifetime ago. Most of the time, I forgot the farm even had a Catholic orientation. Most of the time, really, it was just about living and embracing life and enjoying time spent with people talking about nothing in particular--whether staff members, old friends, community members or fellow volunteers. It was all very refreshing, and very much needed, minus the extreme amount of farting which took place in the aforementioned toaster vehicle. I also drove across almost two states myself on the way to West Virginia (poorly and nervously, but still successfully), put up siding, demolished/help repair multiple roofs (having never really been on a house roof before...), built a wheelchair ramp, was attacked by a wasp/bee/spider on the ear multiple times during slumber (true story--ear tripled in side and I looked like a friggin' grandpa), helped rebuild a fuse box, saw a litter or kittens be born, climbed a mountain, and had the best grilled cheese of my life...all of which were super exciting events (you can imagine). By the way, if you're ever needing your roof repaired, I'm more about the "tearing down" part than actually building it. We never really got that part at my particular sites.  Weatherproofing really is overrated. I mean, just get yourself a HUGE AND REALLY GOOD tarp, and hold it down with a broom during a thunderstorm! It's all you need.  (And you thought I was exaggerating!) ****************************************  Landmark #3: Squirt's--I mean Abby's High School Graduation (Central High -- May 25, 2008) The very next day after the 14-whatever-hour drive was occupied joyously by Abby's high school graduation. She made us proud and her open house was extremely enjoyable. I finally got to see our new family photo from Abby's Cotillion Ball framed on the wall, and it'd definitely my favorite family picture we've taken over the years, and probably for years to come. You could actually tell we were all present for once...at the same time, no less. Granted, it's a lot better than the photo above. But you probably don't believe that. Then again, Abby's expression is pretty timeless... (if you come from a clown family). **************************************** I, of course, do not hail from a clown family, despite what the following picture suggests. I was merely (almost) assaulted by a team mascot...again.  Landmark #4: My date with Sparty a.k.a. Team Booklet Evaluation for the FPSPI Conference (East Lansing, MI -- May 28 - June 1, 2008) A few days after said graduation, it was time for me to fly to Detroit, taking a bus from there to East Lansing, Michigan. As a second-year International Conference booklet evaluator for FPSPI, I wasn't nearly so nervous, but I did succeed at being one of THE hardest/yet constructive evaluators in the program. (Then again, this wasn't necessarily a good thing, because a good chunk of us...over half...were called into a special meeting to show us how to be more flexible, whoops. Don't worry, I promptly went up to JFite's room afterward. After all, as my prior coach, she technically "bred" me to be a hard evaluator, hehe.) At least I was always constructive and supportive with my comments, but I still wanted to cry a little bit in giving some points this time around when our state wouldn't otherwise, but I supposed I can throw the kids a bone (or a Spartan spear...jk) once in a while. In a way, it sort of reminded me of the way national and state governments differ, and I know things are done the way they are for reasons. Each state has different expectations and preparation levels, and thus, I at least liked that the everyone works to try to align their ways as much as possible for the International Conference, whether or not people grumbled or smiled in the process. They let me use a key to a hotel room fully stocked with goodies (read: SUN CHIPS); therefore, I was a happy camper, either way. Sigh, there will always need to be changes to the system, but it has grown for the better in a lot of ways, which is good. I hope we get to move to digitizing eventually, as I think we'd be able to meet the kids on a whole different level. Overall, it was a fantastic conference--the kids all had a great time; reunited with some fantastic evaluators (Ruth, 87 or 88 now I think? is fantastic); AND got to meet up for ice cream with my elementary through high school friend, Alli!!  Ruth, the oldest and most hilarious evaluator pretty much rocks my socks and I absolutely treasure our conversations over the past two years. (By the way, that's her pictured ^above^, after having won the costume contest at the Affiliate Director/Evaluator Dinner at IC. That would be weird if this was Alli, because that would make me some freak of nature given my teenage-esque looks. Ruth used to say that she was 48 but that she was also told that she was dyslexic...and told her great-granddaughter that she got an "F" in sex according to her drivers license.) Anyway, hopefully I'll get to go back again--one of my favorite points of the year, if anything, to bounce stories around with Ruth again.  ****************************************  Landmark #5: Visit #11 to SW Florida (Bonita Spring, FL -- June 1 - 14, 2008) But I couldn't stay laughing about the decades long and passed for long, as you can see from the billowing window shot with my mother above...not many hours later, but many states away. Believe it or not, from there, I flew straight from Michigan to Florida...for two additional weeks (imagine that suitcase!). The family + Alex (Abby's boyfriend) were already there enjoying the sun, but it was great to jump in. (I needed a vacation after playing IC evaluator! Talk about a marathon of booklet grading.) Throughout the two weeks, I saw: territorial mockingbirds had moved beach-side (entertaining & extraordinary to see the changes in wildlife and environment over the years), sea hawks, and a wild flamingo (minus the pink); chilled with a wild tortoise on a bike ride to Barefoot Beach; saw dolphins on three separate occasions (twice on evening walks with Scott when he came to visit for a weekend) and two manatees...plus a rainbow and some EXTREME thunderstorms. While the flooding had sadly hit the Midwest with a vengeance, we had incredible storms to watch in the southwest Florida. (I like to go outside on he porch to watch the storms and read whenever I can. During one storm, my arm hair stood on end TWICE from the electricity...yikes.) All in all, a fantastically relaxing trip. Spent most of the time reading The Fountainhead, which projected an even far more interesting light on the sojourn. We sadly were not able to reschedule the trip so that we were able to make Adam and Bess' wedding (going to have to miss my Cousin Matt's as well as Michelle L.'s weddings this coming Saturday with Girls State obligations), but we were thankfully able to at least get back for Laura D. and Koz's wedding this past Saturday. However, when various sad things happened (i.e. Landmark #6 below), we turned to our drug of choice:  For the record, if you ever need some good blackmail for your family members, have them play this game, preferably while savoring a glass of wine. Then save the answers and quote them out of context, just like the smutty newspapers. Works every time. (We're not talking libel, however, because that's unethical.) **************************************** Landmark #6: Aunt Ellie's passing (officially in Washington, D.C., but we were still in Florida -- June 2, 2008) The true saddening point to the trip, however, all kidding aside, was getting news that my dear great-aunt (Ellie) passed away. She was the wife of my great-uncle/Godfather (Mel) of Washington, D.C. and pretty much one of the most fantastic women I have ever known. It doesn't take even reading much of her obituary to know that:  Segment from article published in The Washington Post on 6/5/2008 "...Eleanor is a retired Associate Professor of the National Catholic School of Social Service at The Catholic University of America. Since 1998, as Associate Chaplain at the District of Columbia Detention Facility, she has given direct service weekly to inmates at the DC Jail. Dr. Judah's social work practice experience in Pittsburgh, Washington, Hartford and Birmingham, England, includes direct practice, supervision, field instruction and consultation, primarily in services to families and child placement. As a Fulbright Scholar at the University of Birmingham, she researched policy and services to homeless and multi-problem families in a welfare state. Dr. Judah's professional publications appear in Social Casework, the Journal of Social Work Education, Social Thought, Charities USA and Social Work (British)..." Though she had battled cancer and was in remission, her immune system was left week and she died upon developing (and not recovering from) a microplasmic bacterial infection, if memory serves me correctly. Her graveside burial service is to take place this coming Tuesday in St. Joseph...except I'll be at Girls State by then. (Because Mel wanted Ellie buried in Missouri, he didn't want our families to travel to D.C. for the actual funeral.) If I can arrange for my assistant counselor (if I have one), I'm going to try to get away for it--just to be there for Uncle Mel, if anything. His plans are to move back to St. Joseph now, after selling their beautiful condo on the Potomac, since my grandfather's three children (Dad, Uncle Charlie and Aunt Ann and their kids) are his only real relatives left, aside from his brother's family in Galveston. It will be nice to have him around again, but I know losing Aunt Ellie was and will continue to be rough for him for a while. They were best friends and didn't meet until they were in their 50s; thus, they had no children. I can't wait to give him a big hug (and enjoy a traditional "old fashion" drink with him, his daily tradition with Aunt Ellie, so adorable).  ^This^ was the last time I saw Aunt Ellie--before days of her cancer. (After it all began, she no longer made the travels to Missouri with Uncle Mel, and the last time this year when she returned, I was unable to get away from school.) Ellie is the one to my my left, and Uncle Mel is right next to her. She will definitely be missed, but I'm grateful to have known her. Bless you, Aunt Ellie. My favorite quote from Aunt Ellie? If I could pick simply one, it would have to be the story about when she and her friends got lectured by the nuns in college for mingling with military boys on the train (during the war...at NIGHT, no less!). Okay, the quote really derives from a particular nun, but was perpetuated by Aunt Ellie enough to become hers: "Don't let your lips be a well-traveled highway, ladies." She made sure to mention that it was her friend that was actually in trouble for the well-traveled highway part. **************************************** Landmark #7: Witnessing my first Jewish (/Episcopalian) wedding  On a brighter note, Koz and Laura's wedding was pretty much SPECTACULAR. I'm surprised I had energy for it after waking up at 3am CST (4am EST). Watching all three of his brother tear up out of respect while toasting him was one of the most inspirational instances I have ever witnessed, seriously. I wish people would tear up talking about me...but I don't want it to be because I smell or something, because that would kinda suck. The brotherhood was losing a brother--err, gaining a sister, which just makes the brotherhood co-ed, and that just means that all will forever be changed (thankfully, in a good/happy way!). I still remember the blind date Koz set up me on (doubling with him and Laura) back during my freshman year of college, and how hilarious the two of them were togehter...and here, 5 years later, they're married! They both seem so mature (more mature than me though? Bah!), and I know they'll go far. Some of the neatest families I know. But yeah, look at that Hora (chair dance) ^above^!!! I wish I could marry a Jewish boy, because they know how to celebrate weddings the right way! I have never seen so many people stay around until 11pm at a reception before, and everyone was having a genuinely fabulous time! Even my father danced, and that's saying a lot (I love you, Dad!). **************************************** Landmarks #8, 9, 10, 11, 12 (starting now and still to come): Working...Abby turns 18 (Friday!)...Missouri Girls State...OLOG praise band returns!...and moving. So...now, here I am (with the exception of playing counselor next week at Girls State), in St. Joe for the brunt of the rest of the summer. Due to fact that our music minister at our home parish stepped down (I'd almost apply for the position if I didn't have more school left...), I'll be stepping in to help with 11am Mass music for the praise & worship band I founded a few years back (still remains to be a summer thing, but that's all right...people seem to be supportive of it this year, so we'll see where it goes--back to being the guitar/singer lady). Also, gots to make them dollars, since I may or may not be doing my M.A.E. internship in the Spring (and if I do, it would mean without pay). Thus, decided to get out of grad classes and take them in the Fall after a magic switching of scheduled classes (and a few begging emails), which means no Kirksville summer for me. However, since the roommate got herself a job in CoMO and we weren't able to fill the apartment as was originally planned, it looks like I'll be packing my belonging up (again...man, I'll miss this apartment...), and at least see my K-ville peeps for at least a hug or handshake, so that's better than nothing. Leases and money and that stuff does weird/interesting/non-preferable things to people, if I've never stated it before. I'm not always a fan. So upon that novel, perhaps it's suffice to say that I'm grateful to keep my head on the same pillow for a while, even though this particular mattress is not my most favorite mattress in the world. And my room needs so major floor cleaning interference. And I'm allergic to my house...or something in it, but it's so not Sabrina the cat, because she's too pretty to be allergic to. Whelp, that's all for now. Props to any who took it upon themselves to read through the escapades. Hope you're all doing well.
I feel like life suddenly got 10 times more manageable...for no reason in particular other than mere perspective. The sun really does make the world a little brighter...on all fronts, as does checking things off the list, one by one. Folks, the end (of the school year) is nigh. Must take it all in stride from here on out, savoring it all the while.
So easy it is to incorporate what one does or has accomplished into whom one sees him or herself to be. And, in turn, so easy it is for failure to detract from the same self-perception. However, what the one in this trap often forgets is that, once this game of scale-tipping is over and the self has moved on to a new front, the aforementioned values are of little to no consequence. While legacies may or may not live on, it is the character formed which continues to the next stage. Actions, once done, merely lead to other actions and steps not taken are still left undone or happened upon by others along the way.
I've decided (as of TONIGHT) that, for now, I want to...*drum-roll please*....teach gifted. And by that, I mean teach gifted ASAP--whatever level which speaks to me first (any and all sound fabulous). To clarify, I may or may not make next year my last year in K-ville, depending on how my instincts are running over the next few weeks or months. And I think I'm okay with that. I think gifted is actually pretty perfect, complex enough to keep me engaged, and simple enough to get me working before I'm 30, but we'll see. Nothing is set in stone, but I like the feeling I had when the lightning bolt hit me tonight. Between getting invited back to FPS Internationals to evaluate, not getting the GTRA as of now (*shrug*), working the FPS State Bowl with more finesse than prior years (aka feeling more at home, in control of time and my work), having a good talk with Fr. Bill today and giving a presentation on gifted tonight...it just...feels right. We'll see how it goes from here. I still want another Masters, but I'm praying about it for the time being if now is the time and place for it. I know it will work out for the best, so long as I keep moving and striving with my all...and keeping my outlook towards life in check. Rising from the ashes, woo. "We do not walk alone, it is God who is in charge of this journey of ours." --Sr. Denise Descoteaux (2 footprints in the sand | dare to dance the tides)
What is it about humanity that makes us seek refuge in complication? Comfort in things not straight-forward? Strength through solving puzzles to which the answers are not revealed without effort? Excitement in never standing still--always another challenge left to unravel, always something else requiring our efforts, worry, time, focus? And yet, in the end, we still wonder why our lives remain unsatisfied. By very definition, solitude derives not from complication, confusion, constant movement or change. Nor does safety. But these things are necessary in moderation, the impractical parts of an irrational world, and many, myself included, tend to crave them. Even with as much as we scoff in the name of social, mental or emotional entanglements...we still find ourselves tossed right in the middle of them all. It is as if they gravitate in our direction, and perhaps they do. And so long as there is something visibly or imaginably imperfect in the world around us, there appears to be no need to address what is within, to not only point out what needs improvement, but to embrace that which is going right with the world. Then, one day, when the shadows fade--when the clouds dissipate from all that was the bane of prior existence as we knew it--we realize. Realize how much devotion was directed to nursing the world back to health (whether our own or another's). Realize that no matter how much energy we expend, some part of the world (whether our own or another's) will still be hurting. Realize that we are not superheroes as individuals without support. And that negatives cannot only fog our perceptions of the truth, but can eat away at the perceptions of positives, too. That the empty space left behind was either crafted, a product of our imaginary diggings, or easily filled again by light, hope, and the sorts of love that don't go away. That, when we are filled up once more, we'll only dive back into the struggle, working to save, but knowing that the same and more lessons will be learned again. And that, sometimes, we ourselves are in need of being saved (from the struggle or from ourselves). This "world"--this "view"--I describe is certainly not that of the population in its entirety. Surely, that would be a most ridiculous assertion. But it is (at least part of) the world for those whom declare in their battle cry empathy, truth, idealism, change, growth...even cynicism, manipulation, stubbornness, conservation. A world inhabited by myself, and, perhaps, more than we are even willing to believe. It's a cycle in which I live each and every day. A cycle I constantly work to break but know is well-engraved into my operations, my perceptions, my strategies. And perhaps, while some cycles are meant to be broken, there is something to be said of this way in which we either aim to rescue or stay as far away from the dramas of our world, yet embrace them on the screen, in our dreams, in our hearts. It's connection--whether it's "real" or "crafted" (even if there is a difference)--and it's something I call my curse and my blessing all the same. But one thing I know for sure--every time I wake up to resolution, it teaches me what I've valued, what I've allowed to dissolve, and makes me ponder about what I shall do next. If it's not one thing that must be fixed, then another? Perhaps, if not certainly, at least in my world. Yet I argue that the reasons go much deeper that self-formed mind puzzles to walls and worries from past trends around us...that once I know all will be well, I do truly know it. And I embrace it entirely, letting nothing touch it as if immortalized. While I can't say I'd ever take the easy road, I know the complicated one makes simplicity all the sweeter. And perhaps that is enough. Perhaps it's enough that I'm walking it. Solitude without direction merely leads to stagnancy, after all.
Headaches (sinus or otherwise) = a biznitch
I don't hold a subscription to any sort of satellite radio, but my random radio rations on Friday seemed to fit recent events in my life almost to the "T." Was God trying to tell me something, or just giving me the words to say that I didn't quite have before? Because it was too consecutively coincidental than I could have imagined. Then again, so are fortune cookies. Unless you get one of the lousy ones--the ones in which you know the writer had reached the point of enough fen jui for one night.
I have learned as of late that my greatest fear isn't "being alone" (in fact, I often like to have some quiet time, and I know I'll never "be alone" in the completely absent sense). My fear comes out of disappointing others and disappointing myself. And it manifests itself in the form of pride, stubbornness, self-doubt, taking things personally, and so on and so forth. I should really get to working on that, as truly, my entire mood can be altered by the mere thought of disappointing someone, let alone an entire group of someones. It all reminds me that we really can't be perfect, but just because we know we're not doesn't give the excuse to throw in the towel. One can't go through life making everyone happy, but if people truly accept us for who we are and how much care we put into what we do, it should hardly matter. I hit a point last night (after having to miss a cappella rehearsal again) in which I composed the following. Words just keep flowing out of me these days, which is a good thing when one is a writer. And I'm finally getting to the place where I don't immediately censor my thoughts, but let them flow as they may. This is what came out last night, circa 2:30am: the price of heaven = one big, fat failure chasing the wagon dust lurching from the wheels. her limbs crawling footing crumbling, world tumbling down into the ditch with no hope of saving face. almost wishing she had ended on the sweeter seat that didn't question the driver or her place in the coach. hands scraped, head bruised, she could have just run run away in the opposite direction, still could, but she won't. she resumes following crevices leading anywhere but where she figured. has she really to lose it all to know what she has found? pearls and heirlooms left to be strung apart by dogs? pictures ripped, lacy pride defaced beyond a glow of respect. left in the dust with a choice: to follow the shadows down the beaten dirt and long for a world long abandoned by sun or carve her own tomorrow with the last of the light? no one ever said the course would be easy. Perfection's fit only for paradise. This isn't to say that I necessarily agree with this now, but sometimes I have moments in which my pride takes a hit, and it's actually something I seem to need once in a while. Not often, granted--too often would be a disaster, but a little bit here and there just to bring me back to the basics is quite enough.
The light is at the end of the tunnel and it should all be manageable from here on out. Thanks to all who have been patient with me (especially in having to finish up that leftover/incomplete class from last semester on top of it all). I really do have quite amazing friends, though I forget to appreciate them as much as they deserve. Time to get back to work. (1 footprint in the sand | dare to dance the tides)
In considering my upcoming (and voluntarily delayed) graduation this May, and trying to get on track with all of my silly honor cords for various organizations, I kinda just reached a point where I realized I was "past all of this." And it hit me sitting at my Joetown desk a few days back, having experienced a number of recent life events and dreams of a similar tune. I stared at my childhood walls the other day and saw awards from the D.A.R., photos from the Cotillion, certificates from HOBY and Girls State, academic medals, varsity tennis letter on the silly letterman jacket pinned on the wall, Future Problem Solving plaques (and recalled the silly half-life-sized poster of me that used to hang in my high school for Drug-Free Super S.T.A.R. which now rests above our baby grand piano). It really doesn't matter that I got into a medical school at age 18 (in fact, it has little to do with my current graduate classes), but the experience of interviews taught me more about myself than I could have imagined. And sure, it's fantastic that I learned how to express myself so heavily through piano and writing, but it's of little consequence that I succeeded in music competitions and wrote against Australians in Connecticut. I laugh even to think about my years as a ballet/tap/jazz dancer or conducting my (admittedly hard-core) three-year high school environmental research project on watershed pollution--which was also a fantastic experience and taught me such an appreciation for scientific thought and experimentation. Rightfully, all of the club officer memories (learning how to be a stronger leader and facilitate teamwork at school and church) plus enjoying my time with the show choir and in the musicals meant the world...but I'm just ready to give back already. Perhaps that's the one thing that hasn't changed: the service aspect of my past always left me seeking those blasted "applications" of my theoretical lessons...and it's high time already. Thankfully, I no longer define myself by the aforementioned things, but I'll admit that it took quite a while for me to realize that I wasn't actually "nothing" without those stars and bars. (I didn't necessarily have a low self-esteem, but it was natural to think that academics/etc. really were my "life" when they were what took up most of my time.) Like I said, I wasn't Miss Overachiever for the usual reasons one might expect, and those of you whom know me well would understand that. I truly sought to derive purpose, delve into, and appreciate with full zeal each and every opportunity that was placed at my fingertips...almost too much, really. I don't know where the energy came from; I don't know how I ever kept my cool. I surely haven't done as good of a job with the time and stress management in my undergraduate years, but I still maintained the same attitude. However, I have reached the point of burn-out multiple times--usually right about when terms were finished, and now I think that "burnout" isn't really such...it's my sign that it truly is "time" to get out there (though it'll be delayed a while more by graduate school, obviously). Part of me worries a little bit as to how I will act when I'm back in that high school classroom (though not immensely). Could I get sucked back into the world of impeccable resume formation or will I strive to connect with them and challenge them to see the bigger reasons why such experiences and opportunities can help one grow into an adult? I'd like to think I'll find a happy medium, or at least (with the students to whom I am closer) challenge them to find their passion amidst it all. But knowing me, and knowing even my mere smaller or semester-long experiences in the classroom, I know I'll be one that wants to connect with my students in some way. I'll be one of the teachers (or professors?) whom don't mind shedding a little relatable life-light into the classroom...as I recall the teachers that kept themselves so strictly divided most mystified me growing up. Of course, there's a happy medium: can't give too much information by any means, but have to toss in just enough to keep things interesting. I know it'll be a challenge, but I really do look forward to my future classrooms. (That part of the realization came out of talking to one of my gifted ed. mentors this past Saturday. She's pretty amazing like that. It was a good Spring Break for growing up and coming to terms with past meets the present, that's for sure.) Setting aside my nerdy teaching ways, I'd now like to shift back to my reference made in the first paragraph--addressing this concept that the "accomplishments" don't necessarily make the "woman." Granted, I'd like to think that I did all the things I used to do for a reason, and that they shaped me into the person I am today, but what more so matters is what I see in the person whom I catch in the mirror today. If I were to take a biopsy of myself at this very moment, would I truly be happy with what I'd see? (There are definitely things I need to work on: not taking on so much to the point that it adversely affects my once-100% dependability rate, working on being more consistent in all walks of my life, etc.) But all of those things on the wall back home--even ones having to do with my college career--really aren't "me." Even if I'd like them to be. They only make up an empty shell of recognitions that distract from the real person that once occupied them. What reminded me of all of this all of the sudden? Love, I'd have to say. It's not that I've always been loved just for what I do instead of who I am...but sometimes, I think people have be taken with something that isn't necessarily "me" (perhaps it was some sense of confidence they saw in the insane "doer" side of me that held offices and played music, or perhaps, for those who knew me for much longer, it was just that I was "the nice Catholic girl who made good grades and had the judge for a daddy"). But, I can't help but deny that it's a lot easier to more genuinely believe in something when I know for certain that none of those were the reasons someone grew to care for me--but just that I was me. And to actually hear phrases like, "Well, that's all nice, but it's not you..." when it really counts. Or truly realizing that, despite the fact I've collected this long-winded story of my life over the years, that the only thing which really matters is now and what I can do with tomorrow (while it's great to have yesterday to look to for inspiration and such). I was so worried for the longest time that I'd have to justify my past in the present (which may be the case in academia, when I have to show that I try to prove that I'm not going to up and switch to a career in basket-weaving all of the sudden), but when it comes to love, I've found that it's all really just quite irrelevant (I think no one is perfect but that people can definitely be perfect for one another). All that matters is now and the possibilities ahead, and it's such a beautiful thing. I've come to such an interesting crossroads in my life--passed it really, but I'm actually starting to feel like I'm "ready" to be an "adult." Granted, real adulthood and all of the big choices and declarations that come with it are still a couple or so years off, but I definitely feel confident that I'm on the right path. It's kinda strange for me to actually be "sure" about something, but I guess that's only supposed to happen once anyway, right? It's not a secret or anything, and there are definitely still miles to go, but it's a beautiful feeling to actually feel like I have my match and that it's all the more of a challenge from God to continue growing into the person I'm meant to be. I'm really, quite truly, no longer scared of the future anymore. I feel like I've "said" that a lot as of late...but now I actually feel like I believe it, and it's an amazing feeling. I just feel more paced and ready to just get real with myself and world and to take on whatever that means...slowly but surely. That's enough rambling for one night (a cookie to anyone actually reading all of that--it was more for me anyway, I suppose), as I should get back to the studies. 'Twas definitely a necessary Spring Break though, that's for sure. Little did I actually accomplish, but a great deal did I truly realize. Just in time for Easter, eh? (1 footprint in the sand | dare to dance the tides)
I've found that I don't listen to nearly as much Christian Rock as I used to (despite the fact that I've directed two bands of that nature in my day, and was, at one point, a walking card catalog of theme-classified lyrics). However, it's still nice that it's always there when I need it most or least expect it to hit me upside the head (i.e. during Mass especially). Everyone needs compassion What power there is to baring your soul in front of many--or even amidst many! ...And it doesn't matter if you're in a crowd or on a stage with a microphone. It's still real, honest, forthright. As time has progressed, I've come to strive to wear my heart on my sleeve, along with a more authentic display of the person whom I am today. And you know what? It's refreshing...and strangely, yet strengthening, comforting. At least for me.Love that’s never failing Let mercy fall on me Everyone needs forgiveness The kindness of a savior The hope of nations So take me as You find me All my fears and failures Fill my life again I give my life to follow Everything I believe in Now I surrender Diving into pretty much anything with your all or letting someone see you is still a scary concept, especially when fear sneaks in. But it can also be exciting. I firmly believe that as long as you acknowledge, understand, and accept that risk--but more so, the beauty that comes with taking that chance--it's still worth it. My heart goes out to all of those who are hurting around me--now above most times, really...because I have to say that I'm quite happy right now. And it's a happiness that I want to shout from the mountaintops, as it's all bubbling up and wanting to shine in a million directions...but I know there's still time. It seems that with God's/god's plans (or even that which we ourselves become resolute about) continue to throw us for a loop when we least expect it, but I think it's good that we're kept on our toes, don't you? If we knew what to expect, wouldn't we miss out on the "now" in anticipation? If I could give any unsolicited advice to you loyal readers, I'd say savor your moments, lads and lasses. Find your grace and let it shape you. As Fr. Bill says, it does form you with time. Whether your grace comes from "God" or a passion in your life, grab a hold of it and let it envelop, change you. He can move the mountains My God is mighty to save He is mighty to save I'm grateful that I finally know how to not hold back in my life, but also how to be pretty much okay and happy with myself, too. I'm SO much more present, so much more in tune...so much more honest with myself. I still have a lot of work of do (you have no idea), but it's nice to know that I'm supported through it all. With grace comes light, and with light comes understanding, clarity, renewal. I have a lot of work ahead, but I know and trust that it will work out, so long as I keep fighting for my dreams. And I believe the same for you. As long as there's hope, there's still a fighting chance to be had in this life. And if/when hope fails in one area, seize the parts where it still lives on. Dwelling on our despair can bring us comfort, yes, whether out of sympathy or embraces from others--and it's inevitable to have those moments every now and then...but the connections we can form by giving back ourselves to others and growing is all the more rewarding. However, it that doesn't necessarily mean that it's not going to be painful to grow--my periods of growth have actually been a lot more painful at times, but in the end, it's just so worth it. It really is. If I may humored upon my soapbox for a moment more, I implore you to seize the graces of clarity, love and joy that you meet (and that you've known, so long as you don't let it pull you back into despair)...Remember it and let it carry you through, because it does, it has, and it will...if you allow it. It's a wonder how much shining a little light into our darkness can change us. Shine Your light and let the whole world see
We’re singing For the glory of the risen King
I hear the call to become _SO_ much more than the person that I am. Than the self I was even yesterday when life was brimming in every direction. When mountains of song escalated soles to the sun, my Zion, and harmony's gaze reached 'cross the world to see what it is and was and ever will be. I am burst'ing. at. the. S.E.A.M.S. |with this love. -- I.E.J., 02/26/08 [God, I pray this feeling sticks around a little longer this time...but I have a feeling that it will.] |
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awake
busy
peaceful
drained
restless
contemplative
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