Don Miller Is Coming, Don Miller Is Coming!

I can't believe it! My future husband is coming South-ward in November! And right in my neck of the woods: November 18th he'll be in Montgomery, and if I can't make that date, November 21st he'll be in Atlanta! Oh, Don, we'll be together at last. We'll finally get a chance to meet. And then we'll get married, have lots of fat, happy babies, I'll make you pancakes every morning and we'll live in eternal bliss happily ever after.

Suckup 101

Excerpt from the greatest student-to-teacher suckup email ever:

Hey what's up? Well I'm sitting here at the house enjoying a post finals cocktail, attempting to drown my sorrows after screwing myself academically on the final tonight lol. I knew that I had to do well on it to be able to maintain the GPA I have to have to come back in the Fall and finish, but for some reason, I started getting test anxiety and blanked like I always do when I couldn't translate half of what it was saying/asking. Just remember what Jesus said during His sermon on the mount when you're grading the tests and figuring the final averages, "blessed are the merciful..."

The rest was actually very sweet and flattering, but it didn't elicit any sympathy because old dude was a slacker. But it was sort of amusant.

So, What Are Your Plans After That?

It's like the adult version of the little kids' infamous "Why?" No matter how many times you answer it, it can always be asked again.

Person: So, how much more of school do you have to go?

Me: Actually, I'm graduating with my Master's this coming August. I can't wait!

Person: So, what are your plans after that?

Me: Well, in the Fall I'm going to be subbing as an instructor while a couple of colleagues are on maternity leave.

Person: So, what are your plans after that?

Me: Well, in January, I'm going to France for 6 months. I'm excited. I'll be living with a family, attending a language institute . . .

Person: So, what are your plans after that?

Me: I dunno. Maybe something will come to me while I'm eating crepes walking down cobblestone streets.

Person: I mean, like what do you want to do? What is your overall goal?

Me: Uh, well, there's lots I could do. I could go back into teaching at the secondary level, I could teach at the university level, there's plenty I could do with Spanish if I didn't want to teach, adding on French would give me even more possibilities, I could start a doctoral program somewhere. I have a lot of options.

Person: You just want to be a professional student, don't you? (smirking)

Me: (in my mind) You smug little ignorant busybody. You wouldn't know what a professional student was if it backhanded your mother across the face. You haven't 1/8th of an idea of what I've had to go through to get to this point. If someone drilled a hole through your skull in an attempt to shove this morsel of information through the aperture you still wouldn't get it, but I believe miracles still happen today, so I'll just say that I don't know what my plans are because I don't have to know right now. The fact of the matter is I can do whatever I want, while you will be left to a life of deciding whether to go to Denny's or CiCi's Sunday after Sunday.

(spoken) Um, not exactly.

The King of Pop

Fan or no fan, you must admit that Michael Jackson was a pop icon of international fame whose death sent shockwaves throughout the world.

One of my earliest memories is singing "Say, Say, Say" by Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney as a 2-year-old. It was immortalized on tape. Not even videotape. That was even before camcorders. Cassette tape.

More than feeling shocked, I felt sad. Imagine living the majority of your life under the glare of the public eye. He will be missed. I present to you my 2-year-old jam. All alone, I sit home by the phone, waiting for you, baby, baby.

US Beats Spain in the Confederations Cup!

I'm not much of a sports fan, but this is unheard of.

Spain is ranked number one in the world in soccer. The US, frankly, sucks. We don't even care about soccer on this side of the pond. And everywhere else, they call it football. Our football they call 'American football.' Anyway.

My super Spaniard professor was getting soccer updates via his laptop while a few classmates gave their final presentations. Way to multitask.

I have a special little place in my heart for soccer because the first time I studied abroad in Spain, my host brother would let us watch nothing but soccer on TV. I learned to appreciate it and fell in love with the goalie for Real Madrid, who is also the goalie for the Spain team, Iker Casillas. He's quite a looker, but I know he's got to feel bad for not being able to block a couple of American shots.

The last time I was in Spain, last summer, Spain had just won the Euro Cup. And it was an astronomical deal. My first day there I wore my España t-shirt around town, and I elicited random chants of "España!" from folks on the street because people were that stoked.

But now, ay, ay, ay. The US is like the worst team to get beaten by. Here's to underdogs!

This is what happens.

I'll just be sitting there, or just standing there, when suddenly, the weight of things that have happened in the past, their implications, my position at the time, the awkwardness, the embarrassment, the wondering what I was doing in that situation, the disbelief that I actually existed there, will all come collapsing into the pit of my stomach at once. And I'll sit there, or stand there, transfixed, mentally wishing it away but being oddly drawn to ponder it at the same time. I relive it while wishing it never happened. But do I really wish that? You can't cherry pick. It's an interconnected web. If you wish one thing didn't happen, you'd have to be willing to unlive all the causes and effects connected to it. Like when you pull a thread. I don't like that thread sticking out. I wanna get rid of it. But pull it, and it undoes more than just itself.

Reaching into my brain . . .

Awaking from a hard-slept post 4 o'clock nap to a 9:30 world. Amazed that the helium balloon from my birthday still exists. It used to float around, but now it just hides under my dinette set. Father's Day. Oh, Father's Day. And to realize I lack the least of things, a card. I'm envisioning a nearly empty, picked over WalMart card section. Last-minute Father's Day card buyers as the vultures to the Father's Day card carrion. Obsessed with Beyonce's "Halo": It's like I've been awakened / Every rule I had you breakin' / It's the risk that I'm takin' / I ain't never gonna shut you out . . . I guess that's to my undiscovered angel. I can see his halo, halo. I can see his halo, haloooo. The cynic in me would rather "nonexistent angel," but I'm telling it to shut up. And my heart sinks when I'm reminded of the mean-eyed compositions that lie dormant, ungraded in my NPR bag. Ah, who cares that you listen to NPR? They're just a buncha liberals. Did you know that Obama's a secret Muslim Islamo-fascist-Marxist who wants to gay marry baby killing trees? Right. And that brings me to my red pen. Yes, that's why my compositions remain ungraded. My red pen needs a break after massacring the last exams. Friending me on Facebook does not get you extra credit, buddy. And leaving quasi-flattering messages on my wall in semi-grammatical Spanish doesn't do the trick either. And I love the funky clogs you bought me, Auntie. It's just that one of them creaks when I walk. It's one of those things you don't discover until you're walking down a long, silent hall.

Email Chatter

Wednesday - June 17, 2009 10:51 AM

From: The Boss

To: Grad students

Subject: Meeting today canceled

Dear all,

Today's meeting is canceled. But I still need blah, blah, blah . . . .

Wednesday - June 17, 2009 11:00 AM

From: me

To: My hilarious Buddhist/Jewish/semi-agnostic buddy

Subject: RE: Meeting today canceled

Buddy, why are you shouting hallelujah and dancing? I didn't know you converted to Pentecostalism!

Wednesday - June 17, 2009 12:15 PM

From: My buddy

To: me

Subject: RE: Meeting today canceled

HA HA HA . . . How did you know?! I was on the floor writhing in joy.

Simple Math

Name: Smartgirl Procrastinatus Date: June 16, 2009

Math Quiz

Solve the following equations using the correct order of operations.

1. shower + new razor = legs that would make a baby's butt proud

2. taking a class + teaching / five week minimester = 0.0patience

3. wheat crackers * spinach and artichoke cream cheese = delicious²

4. 2/5(book I was supposed to read) + 2(pg.paper) - desire to do it = forehead smack

5. single girl - suitable guys who exist in her vicinity = helpless shoulder shrug

6. 15(exams)(ungraded) + red pen = ink bloodbath

7. 8 o'clock class - sleep = trainwreck

8. (cap + gown)(stage + diploma) = 10August + 2Excited

This Is What I Wish . . .

Oh, boy. Brace yourselves. If this post were a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, let's just say a lot of peanut butter and jelly may come squishing out of the sides once you bite down on it.

I wish someone would work for me. Jacob style (Gen. 29:20). Someone that wouldn't give up even if something sucky happened (like Jacob getting the switch flipped on him a la Gen. 29:21-28).

I guess I can be kind of too much for folks. It's not that I'm mean and demanding or anything. Actually, I'm pretty nice. I'm generally conciliatory and willing to give most decent guys a chance. But I think some combination of the following usually ends up happening (that is, if I haven't already abandoned ship or not even allowed the ship to dock in the first place):

1. Aw, she's a nice girl. Got a good head on her shoulders and all of that.

2. Uh, oh. She freaks out a little too easily for my taste. Will she just relax?

3. Oh, great. She's crying profusely over something like this? Yikes.

4. Hmm. She's kind of particular about stuff . . . Who does she think she is?

5. Ouch. That really deflated my ego. I don't know how much more of this I can take.

6. (Sigh.) And now she can't make up her mind. Why did I even bother?

It's enough to make some guys say "deuces" and call it a day.

I need someone to work through my idiosyncrasies, indecisiveness, contradictions, emotional nature and overblown expectations (think: Rugby player vs. Bird watcher). Someone who is willing to take abuse from my dad (because, let's face it, even though I'm almost looking 30 in the eye, only daughters aren't easily given up). Someone who knows what he wants (think: Signing the check for a down payment vs. Window shopping). Someone who's got his stuff together (think: Teacher who already has lesson plan done and copies made in plenty of time vs. Teacher who is fumbling around trying to find some activities to do and class is in 5 minutes). Someone who isn't intimidated by me (think: Asking to speak to the manager vs. Pulling two hairs out of your tacos, shrugging, and commencing to eat them). Someone who is willing to do whatever it takes to win me.

My grad school buddies would probably think that last sentence sounds medieval. People who don't know me well may think it sounds rather haughty. But I'm just being for real. I need a brave, persistent dude.

Sweetly Odd Compliment of the Day

Walking down the militaristic, bleak halls of the Haley Center, I try to brighten things up by at least saying hi to people. I said hi to a lady, walked past her, and then on my way back to the office, ran into her again.

Lady: My, you have such beautiful posture! Are you a dancer?

Me: (flattered, but slightly thrown by the randomness) Um . . . no ma'am.

Lady: Well, you sure look like one.

Me: Oh, well, thank you!

I mean, it was sweet and brightened up by day, but kind of odd and random.

How to Shut an Arrogant Guy Up

Smartgirl had already made plans to have lunch with a friend after church. Arrogantguy waltzes in, unannounced (Smartgirl hadn't heard from him for the longest. He had been "busy."), and after church demands that she join him for lunch.

Arrogantguy: Hey, do you wanna join me and Otherpeople for lunch? We're going to Aplace.

Smartgirl: Aw, sorry, Arrogantguy, I already have plans.

Arrogantguy: (sighs) Are you going with Afriend? Just have dinner with her later!

Smartgirl: I can't. I already told her I couldn't last night because I had to get some stuff done, and she's doing something later on today.

Arrogantguy: No, you're coming to Aplace with us. Just tell her church got out late and you forgot.

Smartgirl: Um, that would be lying. (To others.) Listen to this guy! He's so arrogant. Just expecting people to drop their plans to accomodate his. (To him.) How dare you ask me to lie? And in church? With a suit and tie on?

Arrogantguy: Just come! Just tell her you can't. You're coming.

Smartgirl: (teasingly) So, are you saying you won't have fun without me?

Arrogantguy: (flustered, trying to maintain his macho facade) Um, er, no . . . I . . .

Smartgirl: All right, then. You don't need me to come.

Arrogantguy: (speechless)

Hair looking like ____________.

The video store guy saw me at my worst today when I went to return the movie. Part of me wanted him to be there because I think he's cute, but the other part of me didn't want him to be there because today my hair was looking like whodunit n' whut fo'.

I furtively tried to slip the movie in the slot and leave unnoticed, but as soon as he saw me he lit up with a megawatt smile. I sheepishly smiled back and immediately deuced out. No small talk. My hair!

Aww, I love you, video store guy. You smiled at me despite my hair looking like it resisted arrest and got tasered.

Taken

When I get off the plane in Paris and a cute guy asks if I'd like to share a taxi to save money, I'm going to say NO. Think I wanna end up kidnapped by Albanian gangsters? Shoooot . . . muss be kerzy.

Hiromi

I like jazz, but I don't claim to be an aficionado or anything. However, I am simply mesmerized by the performance of this young lady. To say she's passionate is an understatement. The expression of absolute bliss and complete rapture on her face while she plays grows to a nearly religious fervor when she finishes off this song with her solo. She's in precise, skillful control yet completely untethered at the same time. She and the piano have become an organic whole.



Strangely, her performance reminds me or what happens each time the Spirit of God completely washes over me. I'm completely in control, yet completely given over in ecstasy to Something greater, more profound and more complex than my mind can conceive. And the ability of my mortal, temporal, finite, limited existence to come into contact with Infinity is dynamic.

We cannot grasp God. We can't hold His essence in our hands. But He gives us conceivable things like music, that, in bewildering ways, symbolizes His nature. Who He is. How He functions. How we are a part of His symphony. Or His jazz band.

Say What?

What did the girl who just submitted an abstract and a working bibliography for a yet to be written paper to possibly be presented at a theological symposium if she finishes it who just put a pan of Toll House Ultimate Peanut Butter Cups, Chocolate Chips and Chunks cookies in to bake say?

"In tha buildin!  Yezzir."

I Love the Video Store Guy

I think the video store guy is cute.

Every time I go in there and he's in there, we have a smile fest. And one of the first things I notice is people's teeth. His are quite straight.

This time I got Taken (since I'm going to le France très bientôt). I said "Helluuu" again when I walked up, and when he saw my selection he said, "This one is really goo-oood." I giggled.

Then he said, "Did you find everything you were looking for?" Mmhmm. I just smiled and nodded. Then he asked if I needed a bag. Really? For one DVD? I declined.

'Til we meet again, O video store guy.

I'm such a nerd.