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(sigh). Still slow-going. But going nonetheless. I'm almost halfway done, I guess. That's sort of good. It could be worse, I know. But I'm still not looking forward to a weekend which will be inevitably spent writing the other half. (sigh.)

I'm almost sure academia is not going to be for me . . . not on a permanent basis. Spending my life holed up researching and writing? I don't know if I'd be able to take it. I love learning. I really do. I enjoy taking classes and reading and discussing, I don't even mind writing, but I just don't like writing long research papers. Well . . . unless it's something I'm really passionate about. I guess I'm just not that passionate about a criminally long, depressing 19th century Spanish novel.

The first long research paper I did was in high school. I did my entire paper on Marc Antony's funeral oration in Julius Caesar. "Friends, Romans, countrymen"? Yeah, that. I was out to prove that he was a demagogue. He was not just being straight up and honest with the plebians. He had an agenda. I was pretty passionate about that.

Another long paper that I really enjoyed writing in college was one about foreign views of the United States. I interviewed about 6 people that I knew from other countries and analyzed their reponses to questions I asked them about their opinions on Americans, our government and our culture. It was really interesting research (along with the interviews, I cited several articles and books) and though the paper was over 10 pages, it didn't seem like it at all because I was so passionate about it.

There are a few others, but anyway, writing this one has been like eating day old cold grits. No, even worse, like eating pork brains in milk gravy. I saw it in a can at the grocery store the other day and couldn't stop thinking about how utterly disgusting it would taste, how desperately and scarily hungry someone would have to be to open up a can of pig brains and eat them. (sigh.) Back to work.

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That's where I am right now on this trail of paper writing drudgery. But at least I've started and I shall get further down the road as the night wears on.

I've spoken many times about the teacher persona never leaving me no matter where I go. Anytime I go into a public place I expect to run into a few of my students. It's just a given. But now I'm realizing that the risk of running into parents is just as high.

All I wanted was a 2-liter of ginger ale. (Yeah, I'm a ginger ale fanatic.) At Winn-Dixie I ran into the mother of one of my students. I always remember her because she's a punky mom. She's got hair dyed jet black with a few maroon highlights. It's cut short and held in place with really shiny gel. I love her son, he's a really cool kid. He's soccer-crazed and sports a David Beckham-reminiscent "faux-hawk" (that's what he calls it) which is held in place by the same gel mumsy uses, I'd be willing to bet. Anyway, punky mom is freaking out because of some zeros her kid got and detailed how she yelled at him and threatened to take away his TV privileges for a week . . . anyway, we got it all straightened out. Apparently, one of the zeros he got was on a day that he had an excused absence or something like that. I assured her that I'd change it accordingly. Whatever, I mean, it's really not that crucial. You'd think I was in charge of handing down magic sentences that would either ensure her child's success for life or doom him for all eternity. lol. But she was really sweet and said she'd tell her son she ran into me so he'd feel better about it.

Anyway. So here am I, a plastic, lavender Starbucks tumbler nearly drained of ginger ale beside me, working up the nerve to trudge on a few more pages in this 15-page-long journey.

I'm Trying to Write My Paper, I Really Am

(sigh) Here's what I did today (other than try to write this blasted paper):

I went to lunch with my super cool, brotha from anotha motha, road dawg since junior high school buddy (yeah, that was before the middle school concept caught on in Alabama), Kev. I'm really proud of him. He's going to be an M.D. in May. He really does look like he could be my brother, doesn't he? I don't get to see him that often, so it was cool to hang with him while he was in town over the break.

I also made dinner for myself without completely burning it--yippee! It was sauteed zucchini and squash, roasted red potatoes, and broiled salmon. This is officially Dinner Four of apartment living. Can't I get like a certificate or something? This is no mean feat for a previously cooking challenged girl like me. And I'm still overcoming a few hurdles. (Some of the taters came out ummm . . . a little crisp.) But deep in my heart, I do believe that we shall overcome someday.

Pre-Paper Writing Procrastinatory Thoughts

Amazing how much we can come up with to do to avoid doing what we have to do. Or, maybe I should just speak for myself.

1. Many people ask me what I plan to do after I get my Master's in Spanish, and the answer is I don't know. All I know is that I want to 1. go back to school 2. improve my Spanish and 3. go back to Spain, and pursing a Master's in Spanish will help me accomplish all three. One of the career options I've been juggling around in my mind is one in academia, like college professor, something like that. But if it takes every ounce of my being just to work up the nerve to begin to write a 15-pager, which, by academic standards, is small fries, (and let's not even talk about the Master's thesis that, if I'm going to really do this thing, will have to happen and will have to be more than 15 pages), then how in the universe could I contemplate making a living out of this? Let me back up--the teaching part would be fine, but the having to establish yourself by writing mad scholarly articles and going out of your mind trying to get published? As I heard many a professor comment, it's called publish or perish. Ay, ay, ay.

2. I've recently been prompted to ponder over the dichotomy inherent in what I want. Okay, okay, about what I want in Mr. Wonderful and about the prospect of being able to change my plain jane last name. (You've been warned.):

• The disconnect between what I say I want in a person and what I find myself attracted to.
• The disconnect between what I say I want to do and am doing and what I find myself wanting to do.

Maybe I can elaborate with some examples. I say that I want someone who's into travel and foreign language, but have been into people who weren't. I say that I want to be this Master's-degreed globetrotter, but find myself wondering if I'd be happy as a soccer mom. And this brings up another question, are globetrotter and soccer mom mutually exclusive? I don't think they necessarily are. Rather, I don't want to believe that they are.

And then, I was prompted to think about something that kind of scared me: Maybe the person for me will not be one who fits a preconceived "list," but will be someone who is simply the person for me. And then that made me think: Maybe the life that will make me happy is not the life I've planned out, but will simply be wherever life takes me. Why does that scare me? Because without my list or plan as something stable, something I can bank on, something I can hold on to, I'm out there. I'm vulnerable. I'm subject to unpredictables and uncontrollables. And I don't like that.

3. Both my dishes and my hair are dirty, and I must do something about that before I can feel comfortable sitting down to read and highlight the useful parts in the articles I printed out this morning (at least I've done something) before I can type the first stroke of the first word of my paper. (sigh) ::fans self with a cardboard fan:: Lawd ha' mercy.

P.S. -- Scroll down for Thanksgiving pictures.

Thanksgiving Pics

Here's a few pics of Thanksgiving yesterday. We invited some friends and church family over. Enjoy!

Thanksgiving Eve

I remembered that I've already counted my blessings in an earlier post here. I'll wait to do the whole "year in review" thing in a couple of months. But being Thanksgiving Eve, here are some things that I am thankful for that I didn't mention in my earlier little list.

I'm thankful for the little things.

Right now, I have on the most comfortable, spectacular warm underwear (I still say "long johns" though) that you could ever imagine. I was so excited about them that I even googled the brand and found a link to share, here, so that you, too could have the chance to lounge in cuddly comfort. (Guys, just be content with your flannel and t-shirts. I don't want to hear it.)

I know this is weird, but I sometimes find it amazing that little things content me as much as they do. Little things like sleeping in, matching teacups, sending a friend a scholarly article I found that matches his paper topic exactly, Lorna Doone shortbread cookies, getting funny text messages and being able to make a child laugh all make me happy.

I'm thankful for the ordinary.

Though I don't think I will ever cease to yearn for the extraordinary and far-away, I'm realizing more and more that there's nothing wrong with the familiar and close-to-home. Something tells me that maybe I should stop and enjoy where I am as much as I can so that if one day if I am ever catapulted into some exotic, daring, titillating tomorrow, I won't miss it so much.

I'm thankful for right now.

Forget mooning over the good times of the past. Forget rehashing the bad times of the past. Forget desperately hoping for my life to finally begin tomorrow. Forget obsessively worrying about what's to come tomorrow. I'm living right now. My life is happening right now. Right now is where I'm existing, and right now is where I can make choices (hopefully postive ones) and changes (hopefully positive ones). It's so easy for me to get bogged down in the routine of right now, but I have to realize that right now is where it's at.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Jephthah's Tent

I've been invited to join a group of "former, current, and transitioning" Pentecostal bloggers at Jephthah's Tent. So, I'll be throwing my $0.02 in from time to time. If you're partial to interesting, civil, edifying discussion and interaction, feel free to stop by.

P.S.-- I've added it as another "Blog of Interest" on the sidebar.

Two Dinners

Dinner one: The guy in my class
Again, for clarification sake, the guy in my class (Gimc), is nothing more than a friend. He texted me Friday afternoon to ask if I wanted to "grab dinner" that night. I said sure and we went to Ruby Tuesday. Warning to all of those who are contemplating careers in Education (for the big bucks, of course): You are never off duty. You can't just have dinner with someone in public without the high chance of running into one of your students. Naturally, one of my students came over with her mother and greeted me, effectively seeing me with Gimc (who is also well-known because he's the soccer coach at my place of employment). Since I'm the youngest teacher they have, my students tend to ask me questions about my personal life, which I remind them is none of their business (which doesn't daunt them a bit), and have even gone so far as to invent an imaginary boyfriend for me named Rico. But that's another story. However, now that I've been spotted with a member of the opposite sex over dinner, I know that I'm never going to hear the end of it.

Anyway, I sometimes feel awkward going to dinner with a male friend because 1. I don't want him to think I assume he's going to pay for my dinner either because he's male or because he was the one who asked me, yet 2. I don't want to make a big fuss insisting I pay for my own dinner because I don't want him to think I'm afraid that he thinks there's something more between us and by declaring my intention to pay myself I am making it clear that there isn't. So, what do I do? Dread the waiter's question "Is this together or separate?"

Thankfully, Gimc made clear his reason for choosing Ruby Tuesday was because he got a gift card, and so that dinner was on him because it wasn't his money anyway. lol. The waiter never asked the dreaded question, either.

Dinner two: The priest
I went to Mass for the first time today. I was planning on going last Saturday, but something came up, so I went today. It was interesting. I guess it was kind of neat to see Padre doing his thing, yet I felt sort of out of place because I didn't know what was going on. I had to follow the cues of those around me to know when to stand up, sit down, or kneel down. I didn't know the liturgical responses to the priest's words. I was really happy when they started reciting the Lord's Prayer because it was something I knew and I could actually participate. I wonder if that is the way people feel when they first walk into a Pentecostal service. Every belief has its lingo and ways of doing things that are taken for granted by those involved. It's not until you try to enter a different circle that you know how it feels to be on the outside.

Afterward, Padre gave a young lady who is getting married there soon and me a tour of the church, and when that was over, he took me to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. I asked him a few questions about Catholicism. I realized that although I still don't agree with many aspects of the doctrine, that I had some misconceptions about it, and he helped me to understand the whys a little bit better. For example, I don't believe that a piece of wafer and a sip of wine literally turn into the actual flesh and blood of Christ when it is consumed during the Eucharist. But when he explained why they believe in transubstantiation, I understood. I didn't agree, but I understood.

I wanted Padre to know that I want to learn about things that I'm unfamiliar with and that I care about his life. Part of loving someone is gaining an understanding of who they are. And a big part of what makes people who they are is what they believe, what they hold dear.

Crazily and Hilariously Coincidental

I can't really reveal too much about how . . . astounding, bordering on bewildering it was to open up a fortune cookie tonight and to read this fortune without nearly choking on my proverbial foot. So, I'll just leave it as is. A short stranger (as opposed to a more cliche, tall, dark and handsome one)? I wonder if God just might be able to speak through fortune cookies.

I Need Help

I'm at work, so I've got to make this one quick, but honest to God, I thought today was November 12. And it's really the 5th. My mind was a week ahead of reality. That is ridiculous.

How did I figure out the truth? Well, I sat down at my desk and looked up at the calendar. It said Veterans Day on today's date (or what I thought was today's date). Twilight Zone music started playing. Wait . . . if today is Veteran's Day, why am I here at school? Didn't I hear kids come in? Didn't I say "Good morning" to my co-workers?

I finally flipped to some previous lesson plans and recognized that last Thursday was November 1. That kind of put things into perspective for me. Like I said, I need help.

Dinner with Val and Dave

Yesterday marked the official 3rd dinner I've cooked since being in my own humble abode. (Check the 1st and 2nd out if you please.)

But this one was a little different. Why? Because this was my first non-family dinner offering. The other two times it was like, okay, so even if my cooking tastes like whodunnit and what fo', I'm in somewhat safe territory because it's just my folks. But with non-folks, the stakes are higher.

But once again, proof that God exists:



This is what I had originally made for Val: Italian breadcrumb encrusted chicken topped with a creamy garlic alfredo sauce, mushroom alredo pasta, and French cut green beans.



She looks like she's enjoying it. But then I get a call from Dave, and I end up inviting him over to join us. The problem was that I didn't have a healthy man-sized serving of pasta left. So I whipped up one of those little Lipton alfredo noodles packets to make sure he'd have enough.



Hence, Dave's plate had a different brand of side pasta.



And of course, I had to make sure he prayed over his food like a good boy.

All in all, I guess it was good. Or at least, they said it was. We topped the meal off with strawberry cheesecake (store-bought, but still good), and chai tea (made by yours truly!)

This cooking and entertaining thing . . . I think I can handle it.

NaNoWriMo

I first heard about National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) from the GodDivas. Basically, it's a contest to write a 175 page (50,000 word) novel starting November 1 and having to finish by midnight, November 30. GodDiva co-blogger Jody has decided to take the challenge. A fun twist is that she's inviting readers to suggest a random sentence or phrase that has nothing to do with what she has already written (she posted an excerpt) that she could choose from to work into her frenzied writing. As one who relishes the challenge to invent totally random creations, here was my contribution:

“The silver alligator with emerald eyes had always provided a shining, symbolic comfort. If not comfort, at least it provided shine, and that was not symbolic at all.”

Where do I come up with this stuff? lol. Anyway, if I had more time, I would be tempted to embark on NaNoWriMo myself. But the only writing I have to look forward to doing soon is a 15-page paper on the 19th century Spanish novel I had to read for class. In Spanish. Eww.