I never really thought about how hard it would be to move back in with parents and siblings after five years of quasi-independence until it actually happened. And let me tell you, it is hard.
It's like, too many grown folks living in one place, you know? I'm 23, my brothers are 21 and 19, and my parents, are . . . my parents. We're a close-knit family, you know, we get along, we're not dysfunctional or anything, we go to church together and all of this. But things are not the same as when I lived there pre-UA. Naturally.
For starters, my brothers, I think, will always treat me like big sis. No matter how old I am. It doesn't matter that I have a Bachelor's of Science in Education, it doesn't matter that I've had a wonderful college experience, and that I've matured, and that I will start a grown folks' job in a matter of months. I am Big Sister whom they don't have to listen to, whom they don't have to respect, and whom they can annoy till kingdom come. And don't get me started on life sharing a bathroom with them. See, my parents have their own since they have a master bedroom bathroom thing going on, so they don't see the unpleasantries that I have to endure. I clean like a madwoman, but somehow, the bathroom still eventually finds its way to less than stellar conditions. "Have you no dignity!" I wish to scream at them with a British accent in righteous indignation.
The 'rents are okay. I mean, they give me my space for the most part. But I think it's just hard for them to begin to let go. Especially Pops. I mean, I will be the first to admit that I am a super daddy's girl. I love my pops to death, but mind you, I am the first child, and I am the only girl. Imagine an overprotective father times 10. Okay . . . maybe I'm exaggerating, just a tad. But especially with this McDougal business going down, I have to be like, "Pops, please. I am 23!" It's hard even for me to believe. I mean, that I'm 23. Mom is cool too, but sometimes it's still like, you know . . . especially when it comes to my music. I've just had to resign to never playing what I want to listen to within anyone else's hearing.
I keep telling my family to enjoy me while they can, cuz next year around this time (if I can make it) is when I'll break away. Finally. So, when things get a little conflicty with my folks, I just keep thinking this is temporary, this is so temporary, I can make it!
Friday, June 24, 2005
Monday, May 30, 2005
Waaaaah!
My blog baby has been sitting and crying desperately for attention for an extended amount of time. Most blog mommies would pick their blog baby up, comfort it, feed it, see if it needed to be changed--just showed it some much-needed attention. But what have I done? I've just left it there, abandoned it to wallow in its unhappy, untended state. Isn't that terrible? Ugh.
Things with me, though, are going fine. My mind has finally landed and I'm regaining my focus once again. I wish I could divulge and tell the world about a wonderful person who cares about me, who appreciates me for who I am and who truly wants nothing other than the best for me. It's an awesome feeling when people can be honest and truthful with one another without fear of what the other will think. It's amazing when you can look at a person and see nothing but them. But perhaps now is not the time.
My dad is outside talking to a couple of Mormons who knocked on our door this afternoon. They've been discussing for almost two hours now, I'd say. "Daddy, those guys are just as sincere and earnest about what they believe as we do, " I mentioned as we saw them from afar approaching the house. Needless to say, my father is just as earnest and sincere about sharing his beliefs as as they are as well. Hence the ongoing discussion. I love my pops to death.
I have conditioner in my hair (Suave Humectant Conditioner smells absolutely heavenly) with a towel wrapped around my head, and I need to rinse it out. There's also a Mary Higgins Clark murder mystery I checked out waiting to be delved into. What a lovely, Memorial Day afternoon.
Things with me, though, are going fine. My mind has finally landed and I'm regaining my focus once again. I wish I could divulge and tell the world about a wonderful person who cares about me, who appreciates me for who I am and who truly wants nothing other than the best for me. It's an awesome feeling when people can be honest and truthful with one another without fear of what the other will think. It's amazing when you can look at a person and see nothing but them. But perhaps now is not the time.
My dad is outside talking to a couple of Mormons who knocked on our door this afternoon. They've been discussing for almost two hours now, I'd say. "Daddy, those guys are just as sincere and earnest about what they believe as we do, " I mentioned as we saw them from afar approaching the house. Needless to say, my father is just as earnest and sincere about sharing his beliefs as as they are as well. Hence the ongoing discussion. I love my pops to death.
I have conditioner in my hair (Suave Humectant Conditioner smells absolutely heavenly) with a towel wrapped around my head, and I need to rinse it out. There's also a Mary Higgins Clark murder mystery I checked out waiting to be delved into. What a lovely, Memorial Day afternoon.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Spacy
That word super sums up how I am feeling right now. My mind won't come back to earth. I have a feeling that I'm going to have a sleepless night tonight, my mind reeling and pondering over many things.
I've also had a loss of appetite. I've been eating kind of sporadically. It's a good thing that my mom cooks and we all have a sit down dinner sometimes, else I probably wouldn't eat anything good the whole day.
I've been listening to Coldplay lately. Their British, mellow melodic rock sound just captures the emotional, slightly melancholy smorgasbord of feelings that have been swimming around in me. Excitement, the prospect of drama, the uncertainty of the future, and it's all happening so fast.
Tomorrow, I'm going to slow down and catch up on some much needed Bible-reading. My God time has been sorrowfully lacking lately.
And I finally finished my thank you cards today. I'm going to mail off the ones that need to be mailed off tomorrow, and I'm going to hand out the local ones tomorrow night at church. Procrastination hasn't gotten the best of me just yet!
Meanwhile, I'll be waiting for my mind to safely land.
I've also had a loss of appetite. I've been eating kind of sporadically. It's a good thing that my mom cooks and we all have a sit down dinner sometimes, else I probably wouldn't eat anything good the whole day.
I've been listening to Coldplay lately. Their British, mellow melodic rock sound just captures the emotional, slightly melancholy smorgasbord of feelings that have been swimming around in me. Excitement, the prospect of drama, the uncertainty of the future, and it's all happening so fast.
Tomorrow, I'm going to slow down and catch up on some much needed Bible-reading. My God time has been sorrowfully lacking lately.
And I finally finished my thank you cards today. I'm going to mail off the ones that need to be mailed off tomorrow, and I'm going to hand out the local ones tomorrow night at church. Procrastination hasn't gotten the best of me just yet!
Meanwhile, I'll be waiting for my mind to safely land.
Friday, May 20, 2005
Today I Did Something I Hadn't Done in a While
and that is that I took a long, hot, glorious bubble bath. It was so fabulous. I lit candles and had relaxation music playing and such. It was like my own personal day spa. I can't get too used to doing stuff like that, though . . . it'll just make it that much harder to get used to having to do things again.
Today my 20-year-old brother said something to me that, though it made me feel kind of bad, really made me kind of think constructively about myself. And things he says to me (or about me, rather) don't usually make me do any thinking at all. I normally turn my brain on to the "ignore" channel until the moment passes. But today he said, "Out of all the girls that I've known, YOU are the one who has the worst mood swings ever!" Then he goes on to say how one minute I'm laughing and everything is so funny, and the next I'm telling everyone to leave me alone. "I really feel sorry for whoever your husband will be. That man's gonna always be thinking 'What the heck is wrong with you?'" he said.
(sigh) I know I can be moody sometimes. It's one of the things I know I need to work on. But it also kind of brought home to me that the way I behave affects everybody else around me. Whatever I do is going to affect or influence others. It made me realize again that nothing is ever "just me." John Donne's words from Meditation 17 of "no man is an island" fame are really true. "Because I am involved in mankind." I'm not trying to get overly philosophical here--I'm mainly referring to how we are involved with family and friends and with members of the Body of Christ.
Sometimes when I think about the many, many young people from church I have grown up with and when I think about and wonder where they are now, I also begin to wonder: what is it about me that has caused me to stick around? It's not because I'm a super-spiritual demigoddess. It's not because I have heard the audible voice of God or have seen visions of Heaven or have had revelations of the deep spiritual things of the universe that would blow the mind of any mere mortal. None of those things are in the least bit true. But maybe, just maybe, in the back of my mind, there was something that always reminded me that decisions that I make concerning my spiritual well-being were bound to affect people that know me and care about me and even look up to me.
Funny how a fraternal insult brought these musings about.
Today my 20-year-old brother said something to me that, though it made me feel kind of bad, really made me kind of think constructively about myself. And things he says to me (or about me, rather) don't usually make me do any thinking at all. I normally turn my brain on to the "ignore" channel until the moment passes. But today he said, "Out of all the girls that I've known, YOU are the one who has the worst mood swings ever!" Then he goes on to say how one minute I'm laughing and everything is so funny, and the next I'm telling everyone to leave me alone. "I really feel sorry for whoever your husband will be. That man's gonna always be thinking 'What the heck is wrong with you?'" he said.
(sigh) I know I can be moody sometimes. It's one of the things I know I need to work on. But it also kind of brought home to me that the way I behave affects everybody else around me. Whatever I do is going to affect or influence others. It made me realize again that nothing is ever "just me." John Donne's words from Meditation 17 of "no man is an island" fame are really true. "Because I am involved in mankind." I'm not trying to get overly philosophical here--I'm mainly referring to how we are involved with family and friends and with members of the Body of Christ.
Sometimes when I think about the many, many young people from church I have grown up with and when I think about and wonder where they are now, I also begin to wonder: what is it about me that has caused me to stick around? It's not because I'm a super-spiritual demigoddess. It's not because I have heard the audible voice of God or have seen visions of Heaven or have had revelations of the deep spiritual things of the universe that would blow the mind of any mere mortal. None of those things are in the least bit true. But maybe, just maybe, in the back of my mind, there was something that always reminded me that decisions that I make concerning my spiritual well-being were bound to affect people that know me and care about me and even look up to me.
Funny how a fraternal insult brought these musings about.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Frank Peretti, Master of Christian Fiction
I love Frank Peretti. I was hooked for life after reading the first few pages of the book that made him big, This Present Darkness. The beginning of the book described two ordinary working-class men, dressed a bit shabbily, walking through a carnival filled with people. They sidestep people, spilled popcorn, etc, and they finally come out into a clearing and make their way over to a small, simply built church. I remember thinking, Who are these guys, what is this leading up to? They enter, unnoticed, into the church and find a solitary man kneeling at the altar. All of a sudden, their shabby clothes melt away, and they become bathed in light as their wings unfold and they begin to minister to the praying man. They're angels! I remember feeling warmth and awe at the realization that those ordinary guys were beautiful messengers of God.
Since then I have voraciously read all of his adult novels. (He's done a kid's series too). He is so awesome, not only because he's a good writer, but because he has a way of getting a message across that doesn't seem so . . . message-driven. It's not fluff and stuff (my former complaint about most Christian fiction), but neither is it obvious and heavy-handed. He's real. (And it seems that he has a Pentecostal background, too). Right now, I'm reading his newest book Monster, and though it has been a long while since he's come out with new stuff, he hasn't lost his touch. I could gush on and on . . . I remember lending his last book before he came out with Monster, The Visitation, to someone at church. I think everyone needs to read that book--it's basically about the struggles of a burnt-out pastor who is disillusioned with the church and how he faces a false-Christ character who begins to decieve the members of his small town. But anyway, the guy that I lent the book to was up all night reading it, and gave it back to me the following day. He's really that good.
Well, back to my reading!
Since then I have voraciously read all of his adult novels. (He's done a kid's series too). He is so awesome, not only because he's a good writer, but because he has a way of getting a message across that doesn't seem so . . . message-driven. It's not fluff and stuff (my former complaint about most Christian fiction), but neither is it obvious and heavy-handed. He's real. (And it seems that he has a Pentecostal background, too). Right now, I'm reading his newest book Monster, and though it has been a long while since he's come out with new stuff, he hasn't lost his touch. I could gush on and on . . . I remember lending his last book before he came out with Monster, The Visitation, to someone at church. I think everyone needs to read that book--it's basically about the struggles of a burnt-out pastor who is disillusioned with the church and how he faces a false-Christ character who begins to decieve the members of his small town. But anyway, the guy that I lent the book to was up all night reading it, and gave it back to me the following day. He's really that good.
Well, back to my reading!
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Paperwork
Lord, have mercy, I went by the school today to sign on the dotted line, and get a mountain of paperwork handed to me in return. It's the way of the world. Welcome to the real one.
I am super excited, though. I'm like a grownup for real, now. Well, I may be able to say that next year once I have my money saved and I'm officially moved out and completely on my own.
I thought I'd have this summer to take a break . . . I was even toying with the idea of not getting a job and just volunteering or visiting out of state friends, or taking an art class or something. But how can I say I've got nothing to do when there are thank you cards waiting to be written, paperwork to read and sign and insurance information to review? And not to mention getting Spanish lesson plans together for the little kiddies in the fall?
But I am going to get back into one thing that I sort of missed during this past school year, and that is pleasure reading. I already used up my Family Christian Bookstores gift certificate and bought the new Frank Peretti book Monster, and another book about purity. I usually don't go for those another-version-of-true-love-waits type material because frankly, it's been done and it's played out. Nothing I haven't already heard. But this particular book really caught my eye and I bought it sort of on impulse and so far, I'm not sorry that I did. Book reviews will be forthcoming!
I am super excited, though. I'm like a grownup for real, now. Well, I may be able to say that next year once I have my money saved and I'm officially moved out and completely on my own.
I thought I'd have this summer to take a break . . . I was even toying with the idea of not getting a job and just volunteering or visiting out of state friends, or taking an art class or something. But how can I say I've got nothing to do when there are thank you cards waiting to be written, paperwork to read and sign and insurance information to review? And not to mention getting Spanish lesson plans together for the little kiddies in the fall?
But I am going to get back into one thing that I sort of missed during this past school year, and that is pleasure reading. I already used up my Family Christian Bookstores gift certificate and bought the new Frank Peretti book Monster, and another book about purity. I usually don't go for those another-version-of-true-love-waits type material because frankly, it's been done and it's played out. Nothing I haven't already heard. But this particular book really caught my eye and I bought it sort of on impulse and so far, I'm not sorry that I did. Book reviews will be forthcoming!
Friday, May 06, 2005
Tomorrow Is the Fated Day
Oh, yes, the end is near. Tomorrow at 6pm, I will make the transition from super-senior to alumnus. I've been checking all the girls out of their rooms like crazy today, and I'll have a few more tomorrow morning--tomorrow morning at 10 am is the deadline for them to all be out, out, out! Then I have to do a final walk through of all the rooms with my Hall Director. (oops, backstory: I'm a Resident Assistant at the biggest female freshman dorm on campus). After that I will have to be ready to face family and friends at 12, and make sure all my stuff is all packed and ready for my truck-driving friend to load and take back to the Gump for me.
It's going to be mayhem, so I'm bracing myself for it. At least we're spending the night here and will be going to church one last time here in T-town before we head back to the Gump. I'm happy I'm graduating, but I'm not exactly looking forward to all of the hullabaloo that surrounds it. But right now, I need to do some last minute cramming for my Spanish Phonetics final. Details will be forthcoming!
It's going to be mayhem, so I'm bracing myself for it. At least we're spending the night here and will be going to church one last time here in T-town before we head back to the Gump. I'm happy I'm graduating, but I'm not exactly looking forward to all of the hullabaloo that surrounds it. But right now, I need to do some last minute cramming for my Spanish Phonetics final. Details will be forthcoming!
Thursday, May 05, 2005
I Am the Bomb
I just have to write about this. I was supposed to meet a friend at "El Rincon" today for lunch. Jump in the car, turn the key. Nothing. Oh, great, did I leave my lights on or something? Hadn't left my lights on. I think I know what the problem may be . . . they say that if you turn your key and nothing happens, that means it's something with the battery. But if you turn the key and it makes a sound but still doesn't start up then it's the starter or something worse. Now, bear in mind, I am SO car clueless, and I hate taking my car in to get looked at because I know that the mechanic or whoever looks at me and sees the car cluelessness written all over my face. But I have a hunch it's the battery because my power lock didn't work either. Something similar had happened to me before, and I called the on-campus motorist assistance people, and the guy lifted the hood and saw that one of the battery things had popped off. He popped it back on and that was that. I could have done that! I thought. Anyway, today, I call the friend and ask her if she can come pick me up instead of meeting me there because all of a sudden my car won't start. I would deal with the car trouble later.
So after a lunch of quesadillas, rice and beans, I head back over to my non-starting car, determined to get to the bottom of this. I raise the hood all by myself. That was my first small victory. I then examine the battery. No little thing popped off. Hmmm . . . what else could it be? I sort of fiddle with the little battery things to make sure they are on securely. I step back, give my car a once over (like I knew what I would even be looking for) and then shut the hood. Please, please, please . . . I insert the key and turn. It roars to life. Hence, the title of this post.
So after a lunch of quesadillas, rice and beans, I head back over to my non-starting car, determined to get to the bottom of this. I raise the hood all by myself. That was my first small victory. I then examine the battery. No little thing popped off. Hmmm . . . what else could it be? I sort of fiddle with the little battery things to make sure they are on securely. I step back, give my car a once over (like I knew what I would even be looking for) and then shut the hood. Please, please, please . . . I insert the key and turn. It roars to life. Hence, the title of this post.
I Was Going to Write Some Other Stuff
But I feel SO bad right now. Without going into detail upon detail, I will admit that I blew off one of my best friends in the world for something insignificant that could have waited. The slight was not intentional, but I didn't realize how uncool it was until it was too late. I've apologized, left messages on his home and cell (because he didn't pick up) and sent him a very apologetic email. We go waaaayyy back, so I don't think this folly of mine has dealt our solid friendship a death blow. (I surely hope it hasn't.) But it has given it a little boo-boo that I hope will heal quickly. Kevin, you're the best and you always will be, will you find it in your heart to forgive me?
Now I will spend the rest of the night wallowing in self-dislike. But this too shall pass.
Now I will spend the rest of the night wallowing in self-dislike. But this too shall pass.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
The Countdown Begins
It's coming . . . the day where my 5 years of university life finally come to a close. This week is finals week, and since I've been student interning all semester, I don't really have many finals. I do have a Spanish Phonetics final (the class I should have taken while studying abroad), and a College of Education Exit Exam (for certification purposes) both on Friday, neither of which I expect to be very difficult. So, I'm spending this week chilling, packing up the rest of my stuff and getting ready for Commencement--just 4 days away.
A Few Things That I Have Packed Away Today
You can tell a lot about a person from posters and little knick-knacks they have lying about, can't you? A few of mine:
1. A poster of that says Kermit Clein in bold showing Kermit the Frog in saggy jeans showing the top band of his undies that say "Kermit Clein." It's black and white and of course a spoof of those ridiculous Calvin Klein ads--when I first saw it I just lost all composure doubled over in laughter so I had to get it for those days that I feel a little down.
2. A collage of Curious George pictures from an old calendar that served as the background of my bulletin board. I just LOVE Curious George. He's the cutest thing known to man. He's a mischevous little guy, but he has a good heart. He wants to do the right thing. I also have a small collection of CG posters, a little CG stuffed doll, a CG flashlight, and he serves as the background on my laptop. I know, borderline obsession. At least I admit it.
3. Various poems that decorated the bulletin board on my door: "The Negro Speaks of Rivers" by Langston Hughes, Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, "Meditation 17" by John Donne, a poem written by a Spanish graduate student after the train bombings in Madrid last year, and one by yours truly entitled "Mind Wanderings."
4. A hilarious "expose" of the 24 hour diner on campus by the Crimson White that was posted on my bulletin board. It's complete with grainy photos taken by cell phone cameras (ungloved hands circled in red), and testimony from students whose service at the diner was less than sanitary and professional. Though the tone of the article was serious, the way it was presented was just too much so I had to cut it out and save it. Another one of those "for those days when I'm feeling a little down" things.
I could write more, but . . .
What I'm about to Do Right Now
Eat the "Crimson Meal Deal" (7oz cheeseburger with the works, baked potato with sour cream and butter, cookies and 32 oz sweet tea all for $6.99!) I ordered from Steak-Out while I watch Spanglish. Boy, I could really get used to having nothing to do.
A Few Things That I Have Packed Away Today
You can tell a lot about a person from posters and little knick-knacks they have lying about, can't you? A few of mine:
1. A poster of that says Kermit Clein in bold showing Kermit the Frog in saggy jeans showing the top band of his undies that say "Kermit Clein." It's black and white and of course a spoof of those ridiculous Calvin Klein ads--when I first saw it I just lost all composure doubled over in laughter so I had to get it for those days that I feel a little down.
2. A collage of Curious George pictures from an old calendar that served as the background of my bulletin board. I just LOVE Curious George. He's the cutest thing known to man. He's a mischevous little guy, but he has a good heart. He wants to do the right thing. I also have a small collection of CG posters, a little CG stuffed doll, a CG flashlight, and he serves as the background on my laptop. I know, borderline obsession. At least I admit it.
3. Various poems that decorated the bulletin board on my door: "The Negro Speaks of Rivers" by Langston Hughes, Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, "Meditation 17" by John Donne, a poem written by a Spanish graduate student after the train bombings in Madrid last year, and one by yours truly entitled "Mind Wanderings."
4. A hilarious "expose" of the 24 hour diner on campus by the Crimson White that was posted on my bulletin board. It's complete with grainy photos taken by cell phone cameras (ungloved hands circled in red), and testimony from students whose service at the diner was less than sanitary and professional. Though the tone of the article was serious, the way it was presented was just too much so I had to cut it out and save it. Another one of those "for those days when I'm feeling a little down" things.
I could write more, but . . .
What I'm about to Do Right Now
Eat the "Crimson Meal Deal" (7oz cheeseburger with the works, baked potato with sour cream and butter, cookies and 32 oz sweet tea all for $6.99!) I ordered from Steak-Out while I watch Spanglish. Boy, I could really get used to having nothing to do.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Today Was Another Day
Of taking on the 7th graders. Another day of rushing back to campus to make my 3:30 Spanish Linguistics class. This is the last week of my internship. Crazy. A couple of exams May 6th (Spanish and the College of Ed Exit Exam), and then Commencement. "Are you excited?" people ask. You better believe I am, but I'm coming to another realization. Somehow, I had this false notion that I would graduate and then be able to breathe a sigh of relief. Ahhhh, it's over. I've done it. Oh, not so. Once you finish college, it's not over. It'll never be over until I die, I guess. Life is just made up of phases and you go through them and keep living. I don't think I'll ever be able to say, "Yes, I have arrived." Not here on earth, anyway. I don't say these things with any sort of a melancholy air. It's just what I'm coming to realize.
Do I eat canned soup or chili or go get that chicken quesadilla that the Crimson Cafe makes just right? Choices, choices. Ohhh, but I'm too tired. Ugh, and I need a retouch (black folk talk for "straightening the roots of your hair with a chemical creme") like nobody's business. Oh, well, I guess it's dump out the contents of a can, nuke it, eat, and then get to work on this head. I need to learn how to cook. For real.
Do I eat canned soup or chili or go get that chicken quesadilla that the Crimson Cafe makes just right? Choices, choices. Ohhh, but I'm too tired. Ugh, and I need a retouch (black folk talk for "straightening the roots of your hair with a chemical creme") like nobody's business. Oh, well, I guess it's dump out the contents of a can, nuke it, eat, and then get to work on this head. I need to learn how to cook. For real.
Monday, April 25, 2005
Red Light Musings
Have you ever been sitting at a red light and all of a sudden your mind gets assaulted with memories of all of the mortifying situations you've ever been in? I don't know why, but it happens to me all the time, without fail. I'll just be sitting at a red light on my way to the school or running errands or whatever, and all of a sudden I'll start thinking about that time when . . . and I'll literally cringe. I don't know what it is about waiting at red lights that triggers the whole embarrassing memories recall. Some of the things are funny-embarrassing, you know, the things that you self-deprecatingly tell in a lighthearted way to make your friends laugh, and the others are just flat out embarrassing. Those are the ones I want to stuff into the to-be-forgotten box of my mind. And those are the ones that most often come to me during the red light times. Others are those little awkward moments that nobody else probably remembers, but that you remember and you just want to erase from existence. Examples? Well, these are more of the funny-embarrassing kind, I guess.
1. There was a time in high school where I had a bottom locker. I was also a huge nerd and so I brought all of my books home all the time, so I constantly had a heavy backpack full of books. (Maybe that's why my posture is not the best to this day.) Anyway, one morning, I was squatting down, sort of on my haunches to open my bottom locker with this huge backpack on, and the weight was so much that I tipped backwards! I tried to discreetly rock myself back up onto my feet, but I was stuck. I finally just had to slip my arms out of my backpack straps and get back on my feet without all the extra weight. I don't know how many people saw my little predicament, or if they saw, I don't know if they cared, but that's just one example of the many things that haunt my mind during my red light waits.
2. Unfortunately, I have an oral fixation and I just happened to get a hold of one of those fake wood pencils (you know, the rubbery kind) during a Sunday School teen class back in the day, while we were all discussing . . . something about the lesson. Holding the pencil horizontally, I was sort of absentmindedly twirling it slowly as I bit it. I must've put a little too much weight on the "biting" end of the pencil against the hand that was twirling it because it suddenly broke with a loud snap. All eyes were on me as I was left with half of the pencil in my mouth and the other half in my hand. I felt like a dog with a broken pencil bone in its mouth. As the room erupted in laughter, I took the broken end out of my mouth and then began to involuntarily spit out the little flecks of "rubber" pencil that ended up in my mouth. Okay, maybe that one doesn't haunt me as much as it makes me smile.
Of course there are others that I daren't tell . . . I'm not a masochist. But it's a good thing that time has the ability to allow us to look back on things later, though they may not have been funny when they happened, and laugh.
1. There was a time in high school where I had a bottom locker. I was also a huge nerd and so I brought all of my books home all the time, so I constantly had a heavy backpack full of books. (Maybe that's why my posture is not the best to this day.) Anyway, one morning, I was squatting down, sort of on my haunches to open my bottom locker with this huge backpack on, and the weight was so much that I tipped backwards! I tried to discreetly rock myself back up onto my feet, but I was stuck. I finally just had to slip my arms out of my backpack straps and get back on my feet without all the extra weight. I don't know how many people saw my little predicament, or if they saw, I don't know if they cared, but that's just one example of the many things that haunt my mind during my red light waits.
2. Unfortunately, I have an oral fixation and I just happened to get a hold of one of those fake wood pencils (you know, the rubbery kind) during a Sunday School teen class back in the day, while we were all discussing . . . something about the lesson. Holding the pencil horizontally, I was sort of absentmindedly twirling it slowly as I bit it. I must've put a little too much weight on the "biting" end of the pencil against the hand that was twirling it because it suddenly broke with a loud snap. All eyes were on me as I was left with half of the pencil in my mouth and the other half in my hand. I felt like a dog with a broken pencil bone in its mouth. As the room erupted in laughter, I took the broken end out of my mouth and then began to involuntarily spit out the little flecks of "rubber" pencil that ended up in my mouth. Okay, maybe that one doesn't haunt me as much as it makes me smile.
Of course there are others that I daren't tell . . . I'm not a masochist. But it's a good thing that time has the ability to allow us to look back on things later, though they may not have been funny when they happened, and laugh.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
I'm Okay with That
Sunday afternoon, during that sleepy time between Sunday morning and Sunday night services--for me, at least. I'm too awake to catch a little nap, but the tiredness is still lurking behind my eyes. I'm listening to a CD of Spanish popular music that my host brother burned for me. Buscando lo que nunca encontré . . .
I've sort of come to a realization, and that is that it's Chantell all by herself again. Chantell afresh. No more do I have any hopes invested in any possible prospect. Friday night, I was writing the last entry in my now full journal consisting of about the last 2 1/2 years of my musings. I was comparing the times when my brain was consumed with thoughts of someone as opposed to the times when it wasn't. It seemed that I was always better off when it wasn't. Funny how I can remember the first and last names of every crush I've ever had going back even to 2nd grade (well, with the exception of Giuseppe, the son of our next door neighbors back in Italy . . . I never knew his last name. But he did have this really awesome red moped). Funny how you can forget where you've just laid your car keys (and that happens to me WAY too much considering that I'm just 23), yet can remember the finite details about some little guy you used to like.
Anyway, I think I'm coming to more fully accept and appreciate my season of singleness. The fact that there seemed to be no prospects in sight used to be a complaint, but now I'm beginning to see it as a good thing for right now. Because it's where I'm at right now. Instead of feeling depressed about it, I'm comfortable with it. I would be telling the lie of all lies if I said that all of a sudden finding that "special someone" is something that I don't think about anymore or that I don't desire. But perhaps God knows that my brain cell energy would be put to better use elsewhere for now. And I'm okay with that.
I've sort of come to a realization, and that is that it's Chantell all by herself again. Chantell afresh. No more do I have any hopes invested in any possible prospect. Friday night, I was writing the last entry in my now full journal consisting of about the last 2 1/2 years of my musings. I was comparing the times when my brain was consumed with thoughts of someone as opposed to the times when it wasn't. It seemed that I was always better off when it wasn't. Funny how I can remember the first and last names of every crush I've ever had going back even to 2nd grade (well, with the exception of Giuseppe, the son of our next door neighbors back in Italy . . . I never knew his last name. But he did have this really awesome red moped). Funny how you can forget where you've just laid your car keys (and that happens to me WAY too much considering that I'm just 23), yet can remember the finite details about some little guy you used to like.
Anyway, I think I'm coming to more fully accept and appreciate my season of singleness. The fact that there seemed to be no prospects in sight used to be a complaint, but now I'm beginning to see it as a good thing for right now. Because it's where I'm at right now. Instead of feeling depressed about it, I'm comfortable with it. I would be telling the lie of all lies if I said that all of a sudden finding that "special someone" is something that I don't think about anymore or that I don't desire. But perhaps God knows that my brain cell energy would be put to better use elsewhere for now. And I'm okay with that.
Friday, April 22, 2005
Hog-Doggin' It
I picked up the University of Alabama's campus paper, The Crimson White after a long day of taking on the 7th graders, and was appalled to find this article. I had never even heard of a "hog-dog rodeo." Ugh! I thought stuff like that was what people who sterotyped people from Alabama as being backwards and ignorant made up in the telling of some sort of redneck joke. Truth is indeed stranger than fiction. My, my.
Anyway, last night was the McNair Scholars Program Spring recognition program. My mom and brother and a friend from church came--it was really nice. The main thing was that our articles were finally published, and they presented a copy to each of the scholars. It felt so good to flip through and find mine in there, in print at last! I won't even go into the hours of research, transcribing, translating, writing, rewriting, listening to tapes, etc. that it took to form a final product. It was a nice little affair (although the main speaker's presentation sort of took a detour into a political diatribe--uh, oh), and gave me a chance to get really dressed up and have a good time.
Next week will be the last week of student-teaching, and the week after that--"Pomp and Circumstance" will be playing softly in the background as I march up there, snatch up that diploma, and give President Witt a high-five saying,"See yaaaaa!"
Oh, one more thing. There's a student in my 6th period who I just know has potential. I can tell that he is extremely intelligent. But he has a little image to uphold, gets into trouble because of his attitude, and doesn't do his work. This is not by any means excusable behavior, but I can tell he's bored. He's not being challenged. Sometimes the expectations we have of students directly affects their performance. No, not sometimes, it's a fact that it does all the time. Educational research has proven it. I wrote him a note today while they were watching a film. I bascially told him that he is an extremely intelligent young man and that I know he can do better. I said that I can tell he's bored in class and needs something to challenge him. I also said that he needs to at least try. He needs to put forth his best effort. I proposed to him that I find him some interesting books to read or some material that would interest him (I have this crazy idea of getting him into Harlem Renaissance Lit), and lastly I let him know that if he ever needs help with anything, he could always come to me. "Sincerely, Miss Smith," I signed it. When the bell rang, I gave him the note and said,"Keep this and read it when you get home." He looked at me, took it, and gave a funny sort of half-smile. I wonder if he'll read it and what he'll think. Will he take me up on my offer? As my mom always says, we shall see.
Anyway, last night was the McNair Scholars Program Spring recognition program. My mom and brother and a friend from church came--it was really nice. The main thing was that our articles were finally published, and they presented a copy to each of the scholars. It felt so good to flip through and find mine in there, in print at last! I won't even go into the hours of research, transcribing, translating, writing, rewriting, listening to tapes, etc. that it took to form a final product. It was a nice little affair (although the main speaker's presentation sort of took a detour into a political diatribe--uh, oh), and gave me a chance to get really dressed up and have a good time.
Next week will be the last week of student-teaching, and the week after that--"Pomp and Circumstance" will be playing softly in the background as I march up there, snatch up that diploma, and give President Witt a high-five saying,"See yaaaaa!"
Oh, one more thing. There's a student in my 6th period who I just know has potential. I can tell that he is extremely intelligent. But he has a little image to uphold, gets into trouble because of his attitude, and doesn't do his work. This is not by any means excusable behavior, but I can tell he's bored. He's not being challenged. Sometimes the expectations we have of students directly affects their performance. No, not sometimes, it's a fact that it does all the time. Educational research has proven it. I wrote him a note today while they were watching a film. I bascially told him that he is an extremely intelligent young man and that I know he can do better. I said that I can tell he's bored in class and needs something to challenge him. I also said that he needs to at least try. He needs to put forth his best effort. I proposed to him that I find him some interesting books to read or some material that would interest him (I have this crazy idea of getting him into Harlem Renaissance Lit), and lastly I let him know that if he ever needs help with anything, he could always come to me. "Sincerely, Miss Smith," I signed it. When the bell rang, I gave him the note and said,"Keep this and read it when you get home." He looked at me, took it, and gave a funny sort of half-smile. I wonder if he'll read it and what he'll think. Will he take me up on my offer? As my mom always says, we shall see.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Ketchup Fights in the Lunchroom
I think there's this thing that goes off in the brains of 7th graders that releases this hormone of badness anytime I'm teaching and there's a sub. There's just something about that student teacher-sub combo that does it. Now, today wasn't really that bad, I mean, I didn't feel like I didn't have control or anything like that, but it amazes me, its almost humorous, the things that they will try (and that they will do) because their "real" teacher isn't there.
Lunchtime, and I'm sitting there with the rest of the teachers, keeping my eye on the group (at least trying to), and the moment I turn away and turn back again, there are two boys with ketchup on their clothing and faces. How did that slip by me? I get up and walk over there--by that time the "fight" is over, and I don't freak out, I just look and them and demand an explanation. After they incriminate each other, I simply say, "Both of you are getting written up." And that was that. Anyway, tomorrow, I really have to be on the ball--I'm being observed. I was observed last Thursday too, and I got a really good evaluation. Let's hope tomorrow will be a repeat of that. (God, please?)
"Proshpects" are lining up nicely. Next weekend, I have an interview with the headmaster of the Montgomery area private school that seemed very interested in me. I really do hope all goes well. So far, it seems that it would be the most highly-paid and the most stress-free situation I could have. And the fact that the school is like, a 2-minute drive from where my parents (and soon I will) live doesn't make matters worse either. Pray, wait, and see.
"Time, why you punish me?"--Hootie & the Blowfish
Time is that thing I have the least of but that I waste the most. You should have seen me last night running a mouth marathon on the phone. lol. This time-wasting madness has got to stop. I could blame it on senioritis, I could blame it on my mouth marathon compadre, but no. The fault lies with me. So why don't I stop rambling on my blog and get to work?
Lunchtime, and I'm sitting there with the rest of the teachers, keeping my eye on the group (at least trying to), and the moment I turn away and turn back again, there are two boys with ketchup on their clothing and faces. How did that slip by me? I get up and walk over there--by that time the "fight" is over, and I don't freak out, I just look and them and demand an explanation. After they incriminate each other, I simply say, "Both of you are getting written up." And that was that. Anyway, tomorrow, I really have to be on the ball--I'm being observed. I was observed last Thursday too, and I got a really good evaluation. Let's hope tomorrow will be a repeat of that. (God, please?)
"Proshpects" are lining up nicely. Next weekend, I have an interview with the headmaster of the Montgomery area private school that seemed very interested in me. I really do hope all goes well. So far, it seems that it would be the most highly-paid and the most stress-free situation I could have. And the fact that the school is like, a 2-minute drive from where my parents (and soon I will) live doesn't make matters worse either. Pray, wait, and see.
"Time, why you punish me?"--Hootie & the Blowfish
Time is that thing I have the least of but that I waste the most. You should have seen me last night running a mouth marathon on the phone. lol. This time-wasting madness has got to stop. I could blame it on senioritis, I could blame it on my mouth marathon compadre, but no. The fault lies with me. So why don't I stop rambling on my blog and get to work?
Monday, April 18, 2005
Blaaaast!
The title of this post is meant to be said in an angered British accent with shaking fist upheld. All of a sudden, the Alabama State Department of Education decides that in order for me to be certified, I have to take the Praxis II. In both subject areas, I assume (Language Arts and Spanish). Now, I know in many states, in 39 of the 50, the Praxis is required for certification. Alabama wasn't one of them. Now all of a sudden, Alabama decides to jump on the "higher standards" bandwagon and spring this on us last minute. Not that I think I'll do terribly and I'm deathly afraid of standardized tests, it's just that I'm just sick of this . . . please don't get me started on No Child Left Behind and its fallacies. I'm tired of testing being shoved in teachers' faces and students' faces with ultimatums. Like a test can truly measure intelligence. Like it can accurately measure a teacher's performance.
But what am I complaining about? I'm the standardized test queen. PSAT, SAT, ACT, APTTP and soon GRE (if I want to go to grad school soon, that is.) Standardized tests got me where I am today. If it weren't for the dear old PSAT, I wouldn't have become a National Achievement Semifinalist. And if it weren't for the PSAT's daddy, Mr. SAT, well, would I have even been offered the sweet scholarship package responsible for luring me to this fine institution of higher learning? And if it weren't for the SAT's sidekick, the ACT, would I have been accepted into college, into honors programs, etc., etc.? Catch 22, yo. Catch 22.
But all of that aside, what poor college student has $150 to shell out unexpectedly for some test (well, two tests in my case)? (sigh) Guess it'll soon be time to hit up the 'rents.
I don't want to end on a sour note. Dealing with the 7th graders today wasn't bad. It's still weird being called Miss Smith. Even weirder, I can't go to any public place without being spotted by one of my former or present students. I guess when you're a teacher, the teacher persona never leaves you, even outside of the classroom.
There's still a million and one things to do and I don't feel like doing them. How did I make it this far with such reluctance to get things done? I'm like in the advanced stages of terminal senioritis. I gotta hang in there. 3 more weeks . . . 3 more weeks . . . .
But what am I complaining about? I'm the standardized test queen. PSAT, SAT, ACT, APTTP and soon GRE (if I want to go to grad school soon, that is.) Standardized tests got me where I am today. If it weren't for the dear old PSAT, I wouldn't have become a National Achievement Semifinalist. And if it weren't for the PSAT's daddy, Mr. SAT, well, would I have even been offered the sweet scholarship package responsible for luring me to this fine institution of higher learning? And if it weren't for the SAT's sidekick, the ACT, would I have been accepted into college, into honors programs, etc., etc.? Catch 22, yo. Catch 22.
But all of that aside, what poor college student has $150 to shell out unexpectedly for some test (well, two tests in my case)? (sigh) Guess it'll soon be time to hit up the 'rents.
I don't want to end on a sour note. Dealing with the 7th graders today wasn't bad. It's still weird being called Miss Smith. Even weirder, I can't go to any public place without being spotted by one of my former or present students. I guess when you're a teacher, the teacher persona never leaves you, even outside of the classroom.
There's still a million and one things to do and I don't feel like doing them. How did I make it this far with such reluctance to get things done? I'm like in the advanced stages of terminal senioritis. I gotta hang in there. 3 more weeks . . . 3 more weeks . . . .
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Lake Lurleen
Lurleen Wallace was the first, and so far only, female governor of Alabama. Yes, the wife of "stand in the schoolhouse door" fame, George. Well, thank you Lordy that old George didn't have his way for long . . . or else I wouldn't be so eagerly anticipating graduation in a matter of weeks from UA, now would I?
Anyway, yesterday some of the young people and other church folks went out to one of Lurleen's many namesakes, Lake Lurleen, for a Saturday afternoon of grilling out, fishing, canoeing and paddleboating. It was an absolutely beautiful day. I (further--lol) browned my arms and legs in the sun and just soaked it all in (quite literally, too--we had a water fight that left me looking like a denim-skirted water nymph). It was just a day of enjoying the beauty and majesty of God's creation while taking a respite from the craziness of the week. We need that. God knows we need it.
A song by Warren Barfield comes to mind. He's a young, comparatively new Christian artist whose slighty hoarse-sounding voice with a slight touch of soul is so endearing. The chorus from his song "Soak It Up":
Soak it up
Every little bit I can
Enjoy all my day
Before all my days end
And whatever I get
Always let that be enough
And never forget to soak it up
Anyway, yesterday some of the young people and other church folks went out to one of Lurleen's many namesakes, Lake Lurleen, for a Saturday afternoon of grilling out, fishing, canoeing and paddleboating. It was an absolutely beautiful day. I (further--lol) browned my arms and legs in the sun and just soaked it all in (quite literally, too--we had a water fight that left me looking like a denim-skirted water nymph). It was just a day of enjoying the beauty and majesty of God's creation while taking a respite from the craziness of the week. We need that. God knows we need it.
A song by Warren Barfield comes to mind. He's a young, comparatively new Christian artist whose slighty hoarse-sounding voice with a slight touch of soul is so endearing. The chorus from his song "Soak It Up":
Soak it up
Every little bit I can
Enjoy all my day
Before all my days end
And whatever I get
Always let that be enough
And never forget to soak it up
Friday, April 15, 2005
Toe Torture
I would have hated to have been my right pinkie toe today. All hot and squished up in the corner of my shoe. It was crying out to me. Well, both of my feet were kind of whimpering, but my right pinky was screaming out in agony. It was saying, "Chantell, let this cup pass from me." I'm telling you, I was tempted to get real Alabama and just take those suckers off and walk around barefooted today. Commandment One of being a student intern: Thou shalt not wear shoes that kill thy feet, especially when thou art in charge of instruction all day and on top of that, have to rush from the school at 3:05 to campus in enough time to park and make thy 3:30. The usual 3:25 brisk walk from the parking lot to the foreign languages building was more like a pained limp today. My walking rhythm was a droll metronome of ouches.
I have to give my right pinky toe props, though. It hung in there. It had guts. When I finally made it to my humble abode at the end of the day and took those babies off, my pinkie toe was like, "What? What? I can take it, c'mon, bring it on!" Must be something about brown pumps that have a way of toughening a pinky toe up. Well, at least encouraging one to develop a corn, if nothing else. Why do we torture our feet like this, ladies? I know it doesn't help that I'm super flat-footed, and that my feet are positioned so that I slightly walk on the outside edge of my feet so the heels of my shoes wear at an angle. Can't help it. But the toe torturing madness has got to stop. I think, a guy wouldn't wear shoes that hurt his feet like a big dog just for the sake of fashion, would he? But then, I've never been one to even think about claiming to know the innerworkings of the male psyche. Better leave that one right there where it is.
Toe torture aside, the rest of my day was filled with interactions with 7th graders (and being observed during 1st period), and oral exams in Spanish Phonetics and Syntax (which I should have taken while studying abroad in Spain last spring, but here we are.) Well, better get to grading those stacks of Daily Oral Grammar tests. Ah, isn't this just the life?
I have to give my right pinky toe props, though. It hung in there. It had guts. When I finally made it to my humble abode at the end of the day and took those babies off, my pinkie toe was like, "What? What? I can take it, c'mon, bring it on!" Must be something about brown pumps that have a way of toughening a pinky toe up. Well, at least encouraging one to develop a corn, if nothing else. Why do we torture our feet like this, ladies? I know it doesn't help that I'm super flat-footed, and that my feet are positioned so that I slightly walk on the outside edge of my feet so the heels of my shoes wear at an angle. Can't help it. But the toe torturing madness has got to stop. I think, a guy wouldn't wear shoes that hurt his feet like a big dog just for the sake of fashion, would he? But then, I've never been one to even think about claiming to know the innerworkings of the male psyche. Better leave that one right there where it is.
Toe torture aside, the rest of my day was filled with interactions with 7th graders (and being observed during 1st period), and oral exams in Spanish Phonetics and Syntax (which I should have taken while studying abroad in Spain last spring, but here we are.) Well, better get to grading those stacks of Daily Oral Grammar tests. Ah, isn't this just the life?
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Prospects
I would like the title of this post pronounced almost like "proshpects" with a backwoods, down-home, Alabama drawl. Picture a hunched-over, bushy-mustachioed, sun-burnt old man, rubbing his chafed hands together with a mischievous, cracked-toothed smile and a knowing gleam in his eye saying the word. Imagine him giving a dry, hearty cackle at the thought that he's marketable, that he's in demand, that he will soon be joining the world of the employed, and that he may end up making a bit more money than he previously thought.
Today that old man was me.
Today was the UA Recruitment of Educators day, otherwise known as UA-RED day, and I would say that it was a success. I'm a double major--Secondary Education Language Arts and Secondary Education Spanish. (It's taken me 5 years to do so since a double major is a bit more coursework and since I studied abroad for a semester.) Foreign Language teachers and teachers that are specialized in more than one area are in high demand, and I found that out today. I was a bit choosy, however, because I'm only really looking for employment in the Montgomery area since I'm moving back in with the 'rents to save up some money and get on my feet before launching out into the deep. There was a particular school, a private school, in the Montgomery area who seemed very interested in me. Usually private school salaries are less than those of public schools, but not this one. As the Academic Dean told me, "We're willing to pay for quality." You betcha. I'll probably be in touch with them and will hopefully have a more in-depth interview with the headmaster soon. I got another call back from the principal of a good school prospect in the same area--we keep missing each other. I'm still eager to hear what he has to say as well. But from here on out, it's kind of wait-and-see. I've mailed my application off to the state board, so I may be hearing more offers over the summer, once people have made a good assessment of their school's needs.
Today I felt like God gave me a big pat on the back and said, "Your labor is not in vain." Thanks, God. I needed that.
Today that old man was me.
Today was the UA Recruitment of Educators day, otherwise known as UA-RED day, and I would say that it was a success. I'm a double major--Secondary Education Language Arts and Secondary Education Spanish. (It's taken me 5 years to do so since a double major is a bit more coursework and since I studied abroad for a semester.) Foreign Language teachers and teachers that are specialized in more than one area are in high demand, and I found that out today. I was a bit choosy, however, because I'm only really looking for employment in the Montgomery area since I'm moving back in with the 'rents to save up some money and get on my feet before launching out into the deep. There was a particular school, a private school, in the Montgomery area who seemed very interested in me. Usually private school salaries are less than those of public schools, but not this one. As the Academic Dean told me, "We're willing to pay for quality." You betcha. I'll probably be in touch with them and will hopefully have a more in-depth interview with the headmaster soon. I got another call back from the principal of a good school prospect in the same area--we keep missing each other. I'm still eager to hear what he has to say as well. But from here on out, it's kind of wait-and-see. I've mailed my application off to the state board, so I may be hearing more offers over the summer, once people have made a good assessment of their school's needs.
Today I felt like God gave me a big pat on the back and said, "Your labor is not in vain." Thanks, God. I needed that.
Theme Songs
I have theme songs from time to time. Just songs that sum up how I'm feeling during my various stages. My current one? "I Don't Wanna Be" by Gavin DeGraw. I know it's mainstream, secular, whatever, but I was just seized by this song when I first heard it. The chorus:
I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I have peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms wondering what I gotta do
Or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me
Now, of course, for me, knowing that God's got my back gives me peace of mind, but the spirit of this song sums up how I've been feeling, and is something I've known for a while but what I think is really finally starting to sink in, and that is this: I can't be anyone other than myself and neither should I try to be. At times I frustrate myself worrying about how I am percieved by others, worrying about whether I am where a newly-turned 23-year-old should be in her life, etc., and it's maddening. I could go on and on about the time in my life where I basically gave myself a complex because I was consumed with fitting in somewhere. For the sake of not going into a full-blown life story, suffice it to say that the formative/adolescent years of a black former military brat turned Alabama transplant were sometimes confusing and filled with many a crisis of identity. Imagine suffering more culture shock from returning to your country of origin than when you first lived outside of it. But I digress. For right now, enough already with the madness! (Or, "kill the drama" as my brother sometimes says.) I don't wanna be anything other than me. I wanna be me with a job though . . . got a call from a principal from a good school prospect, and tomorrow's the UA Recruitment of Educators Day. Details to follow!
I don't want to be anything other than what I've been trying to be lately
All I have to do is think of me and I have peace of mind
I'm tired of looking 'round rooms wondering what I gotta do
Or who I'm supposed to be
I don't want to be anything other than me
Now, of course, for me, knowing that God's got my back gives me peace of mind, but the spirit of this song sums up how I've been feeling, and is something I've known for a while but what I think is really finally starting to sink in, and that is this: I can't be anyone other than myself and neither should I try to be. At times I frustrate myself worrying about how I am percieved by others, worrying about whether I am where a newly-turned 23-year-old should be in her life, etc., and it's maddening. I could go on and on about the time in my life where I basically gave myself a complex because I was consumed with fitting in somewhere. For the sake of not going into a full-blown life story, suffice it to say that the formative/adolescent years of a black former military brat turned Alabama transplant were sometimes confusing and filled with many a crisis of identity. Imagine suffering more culture shock from returning to your country of origin than when you first lived outside of it. But I digress. For right now, enough already with the madness! (Or, "kill the drama" as my brother sometimes says.) I don't wanna be anything other than me. I wanna be me with a job though . . . got a call from a principal from a good school prospect, and tomorrow's the UA Recruitment of Educators Day. Details to follow!
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