It's a dreary Wednesday morning. I have lots to read and lots to write. Most likely, I'm going to stay holed up in my apartment until I make some progress.
There's something about these mornings that causes me to have tunnel vision. I look outside and all I see is gray. I can't count on my rainbow maker to brighten things up. There's not enough sun. Not today.
Can I be honest and say that I'm frustrated? There is a single, solitary, seemingly fixed reality existing out there, and every time I think about it, it bothers me. It's a minuscule example, but it sheds light on why, precisely, I am afraid to get my hopes up.
That's it, isn't it? There are so many of us who are afraid. We refuse, out of habit, out of pride, out of a need for self-preservation, to be vulnerable. Vulnerability refusal will only get you so far. You can start out carefully constructing this dainty world of exchanges, but ultimately, if vulnerability refusal isn't kept at bay, it comes to a standstill. Or collapses.
On this dreary morning, there's one thing I know: as frustrating as it can be, there's something in me that always chooses hope, irrational as it might be. There's something in me that won't allow me to be jaded. There's something in me that can't hold back, try as I might. That's why every disappointment feels so fresh to me. Because I'm not used to it. Or rather, it's never something that I count on, that I expect, so that when it happens it confirms what I already knew. It's always a surprise.
Despite how this dreary morning feels, despite being afraid, I know that I will always continue to get my hopes up.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Sunday, January 27, 2013
My Friends, a Man in a Wheelchair, and Trying to Make Sense
My Friends
I alternate every other Sunday with another young lady teaching Sunday School for 3-4 year-olds. I call them "friends." Hey, friends! Are you ready to sing? We always start out by singing. I love my little friends. Today, one of the moms was like, "Now, this is not a reflection on [the other girl who teaches], but I just wanted to tell you this morning my daughter said, 'If Miss Chantell isn't there, I'm gonna cry.' She loves you!" It made me tear up. They know that I love them.
Man in a Wheelchair
Once a month a group from church goes out to visit a nursing home. We sing songs, read scriptures, talk with them and pray with them. I brought my guitar today and played a couple of songs. A man in a wheelchair near the front played air guitar and air drums along with me. Afterward, when we were telling them all goodbye, he had a big smile on his face and held his arms open wide for a hug. He told me I did a good job and he said he used to play a little bit of guitar, but drums mainly.
Trying to Make Sense
Okay . . . this isn't going to really make a lot of sense. But I'm going to try. I don't like it when it seems like God might be trying to set something up that you don't want to happen. There was a time when I wanted it to happen. But that time is past. Why couldn't it have happened when I wanted it to? But then there's something else that you might like to happen, but it seems like God wants to obfuscate it. God, why even drop that tidbit into my lifespace, thereby positioning me to expend mental energy on it, if You didn't want me to have it? The idea that God knows the desire of my heart more than I do makes me feel uncomfortable. I know that He does, so I just have to live with it and trust Him. But I don't like thinking He's going to have to do some God-like thing to change my heart so that I will want this thing that I don't want. If that makes any sense. Which it doesn't. Because if God knows the desire of your heart, it means you actually desire it, right? Or that you will desire it. Nooooooo. See? That's what makes me feel like lukewarm grits inside.
I alternate every other Sunday with another young lady teaching Sunday School for 3-4 year-olds. I call them "friends." Hey, friends! Are you ready to sing? We always start out by singing. I love my little friends. Today, one of the moms was like, "Now, this is not a reflection on [the other girl who teaches], but I just wanted to tell you this morning my daughter said, 'If Miss Chantell isn't there, I'm gonna cry.' She loves you!" It made me tear up. They know that I love them.
Man in a Wheelchair
Once a month a group from church goes out to visit a nursing home. We sing songs, read scriptures, talk with them and pray with them. I brought my guitar today and played a couple of songs. A man in a wheelchair near the front played air guitar and air drums along with me. Afterward, when we were telling them all goodbye, he had a big smile on his face and held his arms open wide for a hug. He told me I did a good job and he said he used to play a little bit of guitar, but drums mainly.
Trying to Make Sense
Okay . . . this isn't going to really make a lot of sense. But I'm going to try. I don't like it when it seems like God might be trying to set something up that you don't want to happen. There was a time when I wanted it to happen. But that time is past. Why couldn't it have happened when I wanted it to? But then there's something else that you might like to happen, but it seems like God wants to obfuscate it. God, why even drop that tidbit into my lifespace, thereby positioning me to expend mental energy on it, if You didn't want me to have it? The idea that God knows the desire of my heart more than I do makes me feel uncomfortable. I know that He does, so I just have to live with it and trust Him. But I don't like thinking He's going to have to do some God-like thing to change my heart so that I will want this thing that I don't want. If that makes any sense. Which it doesn't. Because if God knows the desire of your heart, it means you actually desire it, right? Or that you will desire it. Nooooooo. See? That's what makes me feel like lukewarm grits inside.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Psalm 84:11
For the LORD God is our sun and our shield. He gives us grace and glory. The LORD will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.
Sometimes I'm afraid I'll miss out. Should I have done this differently? Should I have said that instead? Maybe if I would have done this, I'd be in a better position.
No more of that. No more. There comes a time when I have to sit myself down and ask myself a couple questions:
1. Do you believe God? Not just do you believe in Him, but do you believe Him? Do you believe He will do what He said He would?
2. Are you doing what is right in your life?
Well, if you answered "yes" to both of those questions, you have nothing to worry about. Stop fearing that you might miss out. Stop wondering if you should have done anything differently. If you're doing what is right, God will withhold no good thing from you. If you're doing what is right, it's impossible for you to miss out.
I need to stop overanalyzing and keep doing what is right. If anything is meant for me, God will ensure that it doesn't pass me by.
Sometimes I'm afraid I'll miss out. Should I have done this differently? Should I have said that instead? Maybe if I would have done this, I'd be in a better position.
No more of that. No more. There comes a time when I have to sit myself down and ask myself a couple questions:
1. Do you believe God? Not just do you believe in Him, but do you believe Him? Do you believe He will do what He said He would?
2. Are you doing what is right in your life?
Well, if you answered "yes" to both of those questions, you have nothing to worry about. Stop fearing that you might miss out. Stop wondering if you should have done anything differently. If you're doing what is right, God will withhold no good thing from you. If you're doing what is right, it's impossible for you to miss out.
I need to stop overanalyzing and keep doing what is right. If anything is meant for me, God will ensure that it doesn't pass me by.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
My Professorial Brain Crush and My Power of International Connectivity
My Professorial Brain Crush
There is a professor who exudes this magnetism. It's like my whole self is arrested and overwhelmed when he speaks. It's like this rush of knowledge comes flowing out of him, and I can do nothing but let it wash over me and bask in the afterglow. He is passionate, he is animated, he is moved by beautiful phrasings of things, he gets caught up in it, and I soak it all in, this spectacle of intellectual charm. I've never officially had him as a professor. I'm just auditing his class this semester, so I'm not there every week, but my brain has fallen, hard. He's roguishly handsome, has that absentminded professorial air, and speaks Spanish with an Argentine accent seasoned with a Chilean mumble. This semester, he is my brain's baby daddy.
My Power of International Connectivity
I have a Norwegian friend that I met in France. She's since gone back to Norway and is now a middle school teacher. Of course, as a former teacher, I got them secondary education connections, youknaaimsayin? She emails me today telling me that she and a colleague want to do a little cultural exchange activity with their students and American students via Internet, and they have already tried getting in touch with an institution in New York that her school's principal visited in the past, but to no avail. Could I help? So, I forwarded her message to the Head of School where I used to work back in the day (way back in the day, my first real job after undergrad) and she forwarded it to the Middle School principal, and in a matter of hours, a 7th grade Geography teacher volunteered! So, I got the two of them all nice and connected, and voila! Instant North American - Nordic alliance. Ya girl's working that international mojo, son!
There is a professor who exudes this magnetism. It's like my whole self is arrested and overwhelmed when he speaks. It's like this rush of knowledge comes flowing out of him, and I can do nothing but let it wash over me and bask in the afterglow. He is passionate, he is animated, he is moved by beautiful phrasings of things, he gets caught up in it, and I soak it all in, this spectacle of intellectual charm. I've never officially had him as a professor. I'm just auditing his class this semester, so I'm not there every week, but my brain has fallen, hard. He's roguishly handsome, has that absentminded professorial air, and speaks Spanish with an Argentine accent seasoned with a Chilean mumble. This semester, he is my brain's baby daddy.
My Power of International Connectivity
I have a Norwegian friend that I met in France. She's since gone back to Norway and is now a middle school teacher. Of course, as a former teacher, I got them secondary education connections, youknaaimsayin? She emails me today telling me that she and a colleague want to do a little cultural exchange activity with their students and American students via Internet, and they have already tried getting in touch with an institution in New York that her school's principal visited in the past, but to no avail. Could I help? So, I forwarded her message to the Head of School where I used to work back in the day (way back in the day, my first real job after undergrad) and she forwarded it to the Middle School principal, and in a matter of hours, a 7th grade Geography teacher volunteered! So, I got the two of them all nice and connected, and voila! Instant North American - Nordic alliance. Ya girl's working that international mojo, son!
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Fingerpainting, Pot, and Both Sides of the Paper
Fingerpainiting
I can't remember the last time I used finger paint. It brought me back to those days when I had my heart set on being a painter. I babysat my curly-haired, dimpled little boy today and he wanted me to paint dos gatos especiales con cara contenta. Two special cats with happy faces. So I did. One was purple and one was orange. And they were both very happy.
Pot
One of my buds asked to borrow a pot yesterday . . . kind of random, but he wanted to make pasta last night, and he didn't know whether his pot was in one of his yet unopened boxes or in another location of boxes yet to be transported (he just moved) and he didn't want to buy a new one. So, I let him borrow my pot. I know, so, like . . . medieval or something. When I saw him today in the hall at the department, he said, "So, I have your um, item." And I was like, "You mean my pot?" And he was like, "Yeah, I didn't want to use that word or say it too loudly because . . . you know, I wouldn't want anyone to overhear our conversation and get the wrong idea."
Both Sides of the Paper
There's a certain departmental tech guy who gets on my nerves. Dude, your job is to fix computer related stuff in the department. If there's a technology issue, and I bring it to your attention, don't look at me like I just asked you to fix me a plate of beef carpaccio. There's a lab where all the TA's print stuff out. There's usually an option to print things out on both sides of the paper when we do so, and I noticed as of Friday that some options or some setup or some default or something was changed because it didn't have the two-sided printing option anymore. I didn't say anything then because it was after 5 o'clock and the staff had already gone home for the day. But today, I noticed that it was still the case. That is MAJOR paper wastage! All of my colleagues usually print on both sides of the paper, and that Friday as well as today, people were complaining about it. It wasn't just one particular computer. It was the print setting on all the computers in the lab. So, I took it upon myself to mention it. And old dude (actually, he's a young guy) was like, "Well, nothing has been changed in there for like, the past three months." As if I'm making it up! And I'm like, "Um, yeah, something has changed because before we had the option to print on both sides, and now we don't." And then he's like, "So, what do you have to print out?" And I was like,"20 pages." And he was like, "20 copies of like 20 pages each or . . . " And I'm thinking, dude, what the heck are you talking about? What does it matter? But I said, "No, just 20 pages. But it's a real waste of paper, like, we'll be using twice as much paper than normal if it's not changed back." Him: "Okay, well I'll, uh, take a look at it." And then proceeds to put his headphones back on and goes back to doing whatever. I went to run some other errands, and later he still hadn't budged. It was just enraging. Acting like I'm making something up, and all of this paper is being wasted and I had to print from the printer upstairs because the connections to the printer in the lab were all whack? Nawl, son. Yes, I went and passionately told the department head my story of woe. And I emphasized the "wasting paper" part. Especially a department which has already had to make some cutbacks? She said she would handle it. I'm trying to be resourceful and conserve and this joker who acts like someone peed in his Cheerios every time someone has an issue is going to sit back and not do his job? Yup. I told. Sho did. WHAT?
I can't remember the last time I used finger paint. It brought me back to those days when I had my heart set on being a painter. I babysat my curly-haired, dimpled little boy today and he wanted me to paint dos gatos especiales con cara contenta. Two special cats with happy faces. So I did. One was purple and one was orange. And they were both very happy.
Pot
One of my buds asked to borrow a pot yesterday . . . kind of random, but he wanted to make pasta last night, and he didn't know whether his pot was in one of his yet unopened boxes or in another location of boxes yet to be transported (he just moved) and he didn't want to buy a new one. So, I let him borrow my pot. I know, so, like . . . medieval or something. When I saw him today in the hall at the department, he said, "So, I have your um, item." And I was like, "You mean my pot?" And he was like, "Yeah, I didn't want to use that word or say it too loudly because . . . you know, I wouldn't want anyone to overhear our conversation and get the wrong idea."
Both Sides of the Paper
There's a certain departmental tech guy who gets on my nerves. Dude, your job is to fix computer related stuff in the department. If there's a technology issue, and I bring it to your attention, don't look at me like I just asked you to fix me a plate of beef carpaccio. There's a lab where all the TA's print stuff out. There's usually an option to print things out on both sides of the paper when we do so, and I noticed as of Friday that some options or some setup or some default or something was changed because it didn't have the two-sided printing option anymore. I didn't say anything then because it was after 5 o'clock and the staff had already gone home for the day. But today, I noticed that it was still the case. That is MAJOR paper wastage! All of my colleagues usually print on both sides of the paper, and that Friday as well as today, people were complaining about it. It wasn't just one particular computer. It was the print setting on all the computers in the lab. So, I took it upon myself to mention it. And old dude (actually, he's a young guy) was like, "Well, nothing has been changed in there for like, the past three months." As if I'm making it up! And I'm like, "Um, yeah, something has changed because before we had the option to print on both sides, and now we don't." And then he's like, "So, what do you have to print out?" And I was like,"20 pages." And he was like, "20 copies of like 20 pages each or . . . " And I'm thinking, dude, what the heck are you talking about? What does it matter? But I said, "No, just 20 pages. But it's a real waste of paper, like, we'll be using twice as much paper than normal if it's not changed back." Him: "Okay, well I'll, uh, take a look at it." And then proceeds to put his headphones back on and goes back to doing whatever. I went to run some other errands, and later he still hadn't budged. It was just enraging. Acting like I'm making something up, and all of this paper is being wasted and I had to print from the printer upstairs because the connections to the printer in the lab were all whack? Nawl, son. Yes, I went and passionately told the department head my story of woe. And I emphasized the "wasting paper" part. Especially a department which has already had to make some cutbacks? She said she would handle it. I'm trying to be resourceful and conserve and this joker who acts like someone peed in his Cheerios every time someone has an issue is going to sit back and not do his job? Yup. I told. Sho did. WHAT?
Saturday, January 19, 2013
In My Head
I dislike how I create entire worlds in my head. Unnecessarily. For no reason. (That was redundant.)
I dislike how I create these tests and situations and expectations. I feel like I set myself up. If I become disappointed or disillusioned or whatever you want to call it, it's entirely of my own doing.
As one who always complains about how stifling binaries are, one who is dismissive of people who conceptualize everything in stark black and white terms, I am actually quite guilty of setting things up in the same ways I say that I positively can't stand. Do or die. All or nothing. Sink or swim. If you're not "down," then you're out.
I balk at the very idea of anyone daring to try to fit me into some kind of mold. But then I find myself doing the same thing to others. I want people to fit into my mold. Be the way I want them to be.
But it doesn't work that way.
Friday, January 18, 2013
Rain
I went over to babysit my sweet little boy and he wanted to be held. I picked him up and we went over to the window and listened to the sound of the rain. I told him in Spanish that when I was a little girl, we used to sing a song every time it rained.
"What was the song you sang when you were a little girl?"
Then I sang (in English): Rain, rain / Go away/ Come again some other day/ Rain, rain/ Go away/ Come again some other day. He smiled his dimpled smile and his eyes lit up.
"Again."
So, I sang it again. And he asked again. So, I sang it again.
It was a lovely moment. Singing to a beautiful little boy in my arms, looking out of the window and listening to the rain.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
Manic
My friend used to call me "Manic" in undergrad. I often become a ball of nervous energy that cannot just stop. Is it the K-cup coffee? Geez.
Today I met with a professor who invited me to a "working lunch," which was very sweet of her. She wanted to give me further feedback on a paper and show me the catalog of an exhibition I really wanted to go to in Baltimore on images of blacks in Renaissance Europe. I get nervous around this professor because I think she is so awesome, and also because she insists on speaking Spanish the entire time. I'm sure the waiter was like, "Huh?" This blonde white lady and this black girl speaking Spanish. Anytime he came around, we reverted to glaringly American English to address him, and then went back to Spanish. Anyway, I was so nervous, even from the moment I walked into the little restaurant. I was early and so I was feeling awkward already. I think I walked in just looking hyper/awkward. "Um, hi, I'm um, meeting someone, but I'm early, and so, um, yeah she's a professor and I don't have my cell phone so, she's a petite lady who, uh, so could I, uh . . . " Too much, just too much! Why couldn't I have just said, "Hi, I'd like a table for two," and left it at that? I always give too much information, giggle nervously for no reason at all, and create this unnecessary verbal world to fumble around in. Just stop. Why can't I just stop?
So, two Americans speaking Spanish, my professor asks for non-alcoholic beer (?). Why not just go for the real deal? Too early in the day, I guess. So, I'm sitting there eating french fries with raspberry ketchup (?) (I chose it because it sounded weird), and half a roast beef sandwich. Trying to look dainty and speak Spanish correctly (fail on both points). Wanting to sound definitive on my research plans, make her glad that she extended the courtesy of inviting me to lunch and took the time to invest in me as a student. Why can't I just be myself and stop being manic and worried and trying too hard? Just breathe. Just be. Just stop.
Me with my old school purple binder with filler paper writing down notes, her with her smart phone, sending me links left and right. She took 6 years to finish. And she's awesome. Noooooo! (But the last year was spent in Spain, so . . . ) How could eating raspberry ketchup-laced fries in front of my genius professor make me start wondering if I'll ever get married and have kids? See? That's too much. There's no need for that at all. It's extra and manic. And it needs to stop.
Walking here, walking there with my cowboy boots on. Mind racing in the uncanny heat in January. About to go do 30 minutes of core work for $1 at the rec. I want fab abs. I want fab abs, I tell you. I want to channel this energy into something positive. I want to get reading done. I want my brain to stop worrying about things I have no control over.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Hopeful
I submitted my grant proposal for funds for Cuba. There's another one due in February, but this one is more competitive. Everyone was super supportive in giving me feedback, and I think it ended up being a very strong proposal. I'm hopeful that I'll get it! (Oh, and the Cuba program director said he got additional funds from another grant, so he'll be able to help me out more than he initially planned.)
I babysit my professor's adorable little boy. I'm just in love with this kid. He has dimples, curly hair, beautiful, deep-set eyes, olive skin, and long dark lashes. He's a gorgeous child. He doesn't watch any TV, rarely watches any DVDs and all of his toys are simple and non-electronic. This must be why he is amused by simple things and has such a vivid imagination. He's so full of wonder and innocence. On my way to class, a school bus passed by and a pretty little girl on the bus spotted me and smiled and waved furiously. Of course, I smiled and waved back. I'm hopeful that I'll have children of my own someday.
Apparently, my as yet unneeded wedding dress is nearing completion. Why am I so excited about it? I can't wait to see it and try it on. I just know I'm going to love it. I'm hopeful that I will need it someday soon.
I just have a great feeling about this year. I think this is the year all my wildest dreams will come true . . .
I babysit my professor's adorable little boy. I'm just in love with this kid. He has dimples, curly hair, beautiful, deep-set eyes, olive skin, and long dark lashes. He's a gorgeous child. He doesn't watch any TV, rarely watches any DVDs and all of his toys are simple and non-electronic. This must be why he is amused by simple things and has such a vivid imagination. He's so full of wonder and innocence. On my way to class, a school bus passed by and a pretty little girl on the bus spotted me and smiled and waved furiously. Of course, I smiled and waved back. I'm hopeful that I'll have children of my own someday.
Apparently, my as yet unneeded wedding dress is nearing completion. Why am I so excited about it? I can't wait to see it and try it on. I just know I'm going to love it. I'm hopeful that I will need it someday soon.
I just have a great feeling about this year. I think this is the year all my wildest dreams will come true . . .
Wednesday, January 09, 2013
Check.
Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt from Madrid? Check.
Old school iPod mini with ghetto earbuds? Check.
Refilled for the umpteenth time bottle of water from the fridge? Check.
New Balances you've had since high school, but are still in great condition since you're not a runner? Check.
Alabama Institute for Education in the Arts tote turned "gym bag"? Check.
Elliptical machine for 30 minutes while you watch close-captioned CNN? Check.
Achy legs and long, hot, luxurious shower? Check.
Oatmeal (add hot water)/Pumpkin spice muffin (made by yours truly)/K-cup coffee (Christmas present)? Check.
Continuing to read the psychodrama of the descendants of David in I Kings? Check.
Trying to revise your grant proposal before your 2 pm meeting which will probably result in additional suggested changes? Check.
Read the Indicative Chronology and the first chapter of the Cambridge Companion to Postcolonial Literary Studies (Ahead of time. Heh, heh.)? Check.
Determined to have a great rest of the day? Check.
Old school iPod mini with ghetto earbuds? Check.
Refilled for the umpteenth time bottle of water from the fridge? Check.
New Balances you've had since high school, but are still in great condition since you're not a runner? Check.
Alabama Institute for Education in the Arts tote turned "gym bag"? Check.
Elliptical machine for 30 minutes while you watch close-captioned CNN? Check.
Achy legs and long, hot, luxurious shower? Check.
Oatmeal (add hot water)/Pumpkin spice muffin (made by yours truly)/K-cup coffee (Christmas present)? Check.
Continuing to read the psychodrama of the descendants of David in I Kings? Check.
Trying to revise your grant proposal before your 2 pm meeting which will probably result in additional suggested changes? Check.
Read the Indicative Chronology and the first chapter of the Cambridge Companion to Postcolonial Literary Studies (Ahead of time. Heh, heh.)? Check.
Determined to have a great rest of the day? Check.
Sunday, January 06, 2013
Metacognition
Thinking about thinking.
I think way too much. And I think about the way that I think. Way too much. I overanalyze. I wish I could do auto-brain surgery and excise the part of my brain that does this. I think I'd be much calmer and carefree. A friend said I'd be lobotomized. Lobotomized me sounds quite awful, so maybe I should lay my surgery fantasies to rest.
There's a feeling at the base of my throat. It's a feeling that threatens to turn into crying. It's the realization that I'm heading back to Georgia to get back to the grind. It's not that I don't want to go, necessarily. If I stayed here in the Gump with my family indefinitely, I'd go crazy. It's a new semester, my last semester of coursework. A brand new, freshly-washed academic slate. I'm looking forward to getting back to work.
It's the knowledge that I have a responsibility to follow through. I'm not in this program just to enrich my Spanish vocabulary. To create more student panels with transgressive titles in academese. I'm in this program to get the credentials to get out there and get a job as a professor. That's it. I'm trying to enjoy the process, but the end goal is still in mind, and sometimes it weighs on me. This is not for fun. This is not a phase. This is my life.
I also wish I could force my brain to stop making me feel stupid for reasons that simply have to do with being human:
Dear Brain,
I can wish and hope and feel. I can be curious. I can wonder. I can allow my interest to be piqued. I can enjoy. I can want. I can also refuse. I can not want. I can be uninterested. I can be unattracted. You are not allowed to make me feel stupid for any of these reasons and you are not allowed to make me feel obligated to feel any certain way for any certain reason. I allow that many times I need to sort of reign things in. Tone things down. You're great at helping me do that. I appreciate it. But this constant emotional criticism needs to stop.
Sincerely,
Me
Note to self: Please relax. Your brain just thinks it's in charge. You can let it think that as long as it doesn't overstep its bounds. You know Who's really in charge. Take comfort in that.
I think way too much. And I think about the way that I think. Way too much. I overanalyze. I wish I could do auto-brain surgery and excise the part of my brain that does this. I think I'd be much calmer and carefree. A friend said I'd be lobotomized. Lobotomized me sounds quite awful, so maybe I should lay my surgery fantasies to rest.
There's a feeling at the base of my throat. It's a feeling that threatens to turn into crying. It's the realization that I'm heading back to Georgia to get back to the grind. It's not that I don't want to go, necessarily. If I stayed here in the Gump with my family indefinitely, I'd go crazy. It's a new semester, my last semester of coursework. A brand new, freshly-washed academic slate. I'm looking forward to getting back to work.
It's the knowledge that I have a responsibility to follow through. I'm not in this program just to enrich my Spanish vocabulary. To create more student panels with transgressive titles in academese. I'm in this program to get the credentials to get out there and get a job as a professor. That's it. I'm trying to enjoy the process, but the end goal is still in mind, and sometimes it weighs on me. This is not for fun. This is not a phase. This is my life.
I also wish I could force my brain to stop making me feel stupid for reasons that simply have to do with being human:
Dear Brain,
I can wish and hope and feel. I can be curious. I can wonder. I can allow my interest to be piqued. I can enjoy. I can want. I can also refuse. I can not want. I can be uninterested. I can be unattracted. You are not allowed to make me feel stupid for any of these reasons and you are not allowed to make me feel obligated to feel any certain way for any certain reason. I allow that many times I need to sort of reign things in. Tone things down. You're great at helping me do that. I appreciate it. But this constant emotional criticism needs to stop.
Sincerely,
Me
Note to self: Please relax. Your brain just thinks it's in charge. You can let it think that as long as it doesn't overstep its bounds. You know Who's really in charge. Take comfort in that.
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
2013: Consistency
Happy New Year!
Wow. This is the beginning of my 9th year blogging at Where You Can Find Me. It's kind of unbelievable.
When I started this blog in 2005, I was about to graduate with my bachelor's degree(s) in Language Arts and Spanish Secondary Education. Here I am, 8 years later, in the thick of yet another university stint, still wondering and hopeful about what the future holds.
2012 was a good year. Did I rock it, or what? It was a year of growth, academic as well as spiritual. It was a year of increased confidence, in God and in myself. It was a year of gratefulness for all that God has done for me and where He has led me. It was a year of confirmation that I am where He wants me to be. Despite the uncertainty of many other things, that knowledge is what I hold on to and what keeps me going.
This year, I my resolution/theme is "I will be consistent." Consistency is something that I struggle with. (Don't we all?) I find myself committing to something, but not following through with it. I find myself beginning something and not finishing it. I find myself talking about wanting to do something, but never taking any steps to accomplish it. I want to try to change that this year.
To be able to say that you've done something, no matter how small, every day for an entire year, is amazing to me. It's not that I want to accomplish some grand feat. I simply want to accomplish something doable that will stand as a testament to commitment. To putting one foot in front of the other and constantly maintaining a certain state of mind. The hard part is not doing it. It's doing it consistently. Here are a few things that I've thought of that I want to commit myself to doing consistently this year:
1. Every morning when I wake up, I will say "Thank you, Jesus for a brand new day" before I get out of bed. Maybe a small thing, but I see it as starting every day out with keeping a positive, God-centered frame of mind.
2. Before I check my email, read the news, log on to Facebook or do any other media related thing when I begin my day, I will read my Bible. I often find myself rushing out the door in the morning, but somehow still having time to check all of the aforementioned things on the Internet. If I have time to look at Facebook, I have time to read the Word.
3. I will work out for at least 30 minutes for at least 3 days a week. This one might be a little tougher, but in the big scheme of things, it isn't that bad. I'm not necessarily trying to lose weight (despite my slight weight gain rants) I just need to take better care of my body and that requires discipline.
4. I've always talked about how I've wanted to garden. My apartment complex has a community garden plot and I'd like to take advantage of it this year. Helping something grow takes consistency. I have to decide what I want to plant. (As much as I love sunflowers, I'd like to go for veggies this time.) What about eggplant? Then I can make home grown eggplant parmesan.
5. I want to write one encouraging note to someone per month. Either via email or, my personal favorite, via a handwritten card sent through snail mail. I think it would be a good idea, not just for consistency's sake, but to get out of my own head every once in a while and think of others.
Here's to a brand new year!
Wow. This is the beginning of my 9th year blogging at Where You Can Find Me. It's kind of unbelievable.
When I started this blog in 2005, I was about to graduate with my bachelor's degree(s) in Language Arts and Spanish Secondary Education. Here I am, 8 years later, in the thick of yet another university stint, still wondering and hopeful about what the future holds.
2012 was a good year. Did I rock it, or what? It was a year of growth, academic as well as spiritual. It was a year of increased confidence, in God and in myself. It was a year of gratefulness for all that God has done for me and where He has led me. It was a year of confirmation that I am where He wants me to be. Despite the uncertainty of many other things, that knowledge is what I hold on to and what keeps me going.
This year, I my resolution/theme is "I will be consistent." Consistency is something that I struggle with. (Don't we all?) I find myself committing to something, but not following through with it. I find myself beginning something and not finishing it. I find myself talking about wanting to do something, but never taking any steps to accomplish it. I want to try to change that this year.
To be able to say that you've done something, no matter how small, every day for an entire year, is amazing to me. It's not that I want to accomplish some grand feat. I simply want to accomplish something doable that will stand as a testament to commitment. To putting one foot in front of the other and constantly maintaining a certain state of mind. The hard part is not doing it. It's doing it consistently. Here are a few things that I've thought of that I want to commit myself to doing consistently this year:
1. Every morning when I wake up, I will say "Thank you, Jesus for a brand new day" before I get out of bed. Maybe a small thing, but I see it as starting every day out with keeping a positive, God-centered frame of mind.
2. Before I check my email, read the news, log on to Facebook or do any other media related thing when I begin my day, I will read my Bible. I often find myself rushing out the door in the morning, but somehow still having time to check all of the aforementioned things on the Internet. If I have time to look at Facebook, I have time to read the Word.
3. I will work out for at least 30 minutes for at least 3 days a week. This one might be a little tougher, but in the big scheme of things, it isn't that bad. I'm not necessarily trying to lose weight (despite my slight weight gain rants) I just need to take better care of my body and that requires discipline.
4. I've always talked about how I've wanted to garden. My apartment complex has a community garden plot and I'd like to take advantage of it this year. Helping something grow takes consistency. I have to decide what I want to plant. (As much as I love sunflowers, I'd like to go for veggies this time.) What about eggplant? Then I can make home grown eggplant parmesan.
5. I want to write one encouraging note to someone per month. Either via email or, my personal favorite, via a handwritten card sent through snail mail. I think it would be a good idea, not just for consistency's sake, but to get out of my own head every once in a while and think of others.
Here's to a brand new year!
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