What if there were no hypothetical situations?

This is a question mi mejor amiga would pose back in the day and we'd both crack up laughing.  Partly because it's just funny, and partly because the question itself is a hypothetical situation.  I'm a sucker for meta humor.

My brain needs a reading break, so I need to stretch it by sussing out some things that may have been originally based on a hypothetical conversation, but now may be based on the aftermath of an actual one.

1. We're moving on, right?  That's what we agreed.  So, why does it seem to bother you that I'm doing what I need to do to carry that out?

2. I opened myself up to you.  That's not something I do often or easily.  Now that I've been put into the position of having to do a bit of scaling back, as it were, you're essentially asking me to open myself up to you again.  And I'm not eager to do that.

3. Why are you so concerned with "how I'm doing"?  I'm doing what I need to do to get my work done and to also stay connected to people during a more "isolating" part of the program.  I'm auditing a class (seeing/interacting with people, gaining useful knowledge of theory), I'm teaching (seeing/interacting with people), I go to the Spanish and French table (seeing/interacting with people, keeping my language skills sharp).  Don't worry about me.  I can and will take care of myself.

4. So, if you recently "met someone" (thanks for telling me), I'm even more perplexed as to why you're so worried about my not wanting to spend one-on-one time with you.

5. Before you told me about "meeting someone" because you wanted me to "hear it from you," you said you were "still trying to get past the situation" as well.  So . . . let's just say I wouldn't want to be her right now.

6. You're not a "stranger" to me.  We were, are, and to some extent probably always will be friends.  But there's no reset button, so stop expecting things to go back to the way they were.  It's not going to happen.

7. You feel like you've "lost something"?  Well, in a way, you have.

My Texting Thumbs

My texting thumbs are like little eager, panting puppies.

They get all excited and worked up.  They want to text because they have to know.  They want the gratification of an immediate response.

But I have to say, "No, no, no!  Down, girls!"  because what the texting thumbs don't always consider is that sending out that text does not guarantee an immediate response.  In fact, it can inaugurate an awkward, soul-crushing wait.  Or worse yet, no response at all!  Or, on the same level of unpleasantness, initiate something I really didn't intend to start.  Or imply something that I wasn't trying to insinuate.

See, my texting thumbs don't think about all of that.  Because they don't have to deal with the fallout.  They just impulsively text and then go on about their business and then leave me holding the bag.

So, I decided to train them.  I was tired of empty feelings, tired of wishing I had more will power to just keep my texting thumb-puppies at bay.  I just had to will them to stay.  Rather, sit.

I'm happy to report I've met with some success in my texting thumb training.  Positive reinforcement comes in the form of unsolicited received texts.  They're the doggie treat of texting thumbs.

Nursing Home Rock Star

I wanna be a rock star 
But, I ain't got what it takes 
The drive and the determination
And the lucky breaks 
I wanna be a rock star 
But, I ain't got the face 
I wanna be a rock star 
But, I ain't got what it takes 

 —Third Day

Nursing home residents are the most grateful audience members there are.  They don't care what you look like, they don't care what you sound like, they don't care that you're nervous, they don't care that your guitar strumming could use a little work, they don't care if your voice wavers or is maybe a tad off pitch.  All they know and care about is that you're there for them.

I may never be that awesome, finger picking, barre chord shredding guitar maestro.  Maybe I was simply meant to strum out a few humble chords for a few eager, grateful old ears (that may or may not even be able to hear very well).  And that's all right with me.

Can We Just Be Friends?

Things have been well.  Teaching, reading for comps.  I'm feeling like I'm supposed to be a teacher again, which is nice.  In addition to teaching my own classes yesterday, I was frantically conscripted to be a sub for a level higher than I'm teaching right now. I was a little nervous about it at first, but I walked in and was totally fine.  It's a nice feeling to know there is a possibility for me to have a career where I can walk in and be myself.

I've found my cure for the common blues: Baking zucchini bread.  If I ever get into a bad spot, all I need to do is start baking up a storm and then proceed to give away loaves of homey, warm, sweet goodness.  There's something about making and giving away something that can be consumed and enjoyed by many that gives a little lift to the spirits.

Now, to the matter at hand.  It's an age-old conundrum.  Is there truly such thing as just friends between two heterosexual members of the opposite sex?  But more importantly, especially after a bit of line blurring (NOT of the Robin Thicke variety) is it ever possible to hit the reset button and go back to the way things were?

I say nay.

Is that to say things can't remain on friendly terms?  Is that to say you can't ever spend time together?  Is that to say you can't remain a part of each other's lives in some way?

Again, I say nay.  But things take time.  Lots of time.  Would I consider it a little presumptuous for someone to think that "hanging out as friends" could be interspersed with "moving forward" at this juncture?

Ben, oui.

A friend deciding to pursue a more-than-friend state of affairs with another friend should have known the risks, yea, knew the risks that could possibly incur.  And one of the risks is permanently altering the friendship that was.  Voilà.

There are risks involved in opening yourself up to another person.  Tell me about it.  But under any circumstances and in any fashion, opening myself up to anyone, be it for the first time or the fifth, is going to be on my terms.  When and if I'm ready.  C'est comme ça.

At this point in time, I am doing what's best for me.  What's best for me is guarding my heart and maintaining my sanity and getting my work done.

The way things were is exactly that.  The way things were.  If anything is to be maintained, it's going to involve figuring out the terms of the way things are now.  And it very well may not include "hanging out."  At least, not in the way that is being requested.  Hypothetically.

This is something I realized about myself and my life the other day: The times I have been the most miserable is when I've been the least consistent.  When I've gone back and forth.  Regarding my career, past relationships (if you can call them that), spirituality . . . when I failed to make a decision and stick with it, I've literally made myself sick.  My past inconsistency placed me into some pretty wretched spots.  I can't afford to go back there.  I just can't.

Being in a certain situation has been tiring and emotionally draining, and I'm done.  It's 100% out of my hands, and I'm not going to construct mental narratives around it any longer.

God is good.  He never fails to give me reminders that He knows where I am and that He has it under control.  I have to keep trusting in that.

A Prayer

God, help me to stop trying to control things that are completely beyond my human ability to control.

God, help my unbelief and lack of faith, even in the face of evidence of Your hand at work in my life.

God, help me to be patient.

God, help me to receive advice and instruction that don't fall into the category of what I want to hear.

God, help me exercise self-control.

God, help me to stay focused.

God, help me to continually reject the idea that I am alone and misunderstood.

God, help me to own who I am and who You've made me to be without fear or regard to the opinions of others.

God help me to be consistent, not just in productive habits and actions, but in productive thoughts.

Little Things and Bigger Things

About a week or so ago, my coffee maker stopped working.

I got up early, put ground coffee in the filter, filled the coffee maker with water, flipped the on switch, went back into my room to finish getting ready.  When I emerged, no coffee!  The little red light of the switch was on, but absolutely nothing happened.  Bummer.

I went shopping this past weekend to get stocked up for the beginning of the semester.  I considered getting a new coffee maker.  Mind you, I do have a Keurig coffee maker.  I got it for Christmas last year, and I love it.  The only thing is that buying the Keurig cups can get a little pricey.  So, I still used my regular old trusty coffee maker.  But, nah.  I didn't need a new one.  It could wait.  I needed to save my money.  I decided to just get a new box of Keurig cups, a little pricey, yet cheaper than buying a brand new coffee maker, and use them sparingly.

Today, a lady at church who I always sit with called to make sure I would be at Bible study tonight.  She had something for me, she said.  When I got to church, she slipped me a pretty little card and a bag of freshly ground Dutch coffee she brought back from a recent trip to Aruba.  Too bad I won't be able to make it anytime soon, I thought.  She's a coffee aficionado.  I made sure to bring her back some Cuban coffee.  "I have something else for you in my car.  We'll get it after church," she said.

After church, she opened her trunk and gave me a beautiful gift bag with a scripture on it: Love bears all things, believes all things, endures all things.  Love never ends. She said it made her think of me. I took the tissue paper out.  This can't be what I think it is.  It was a cute little personal coffee maker. She even said, "I knew you already had a coffee maker, so I don't know why I felt to get you this!  But this is what God laid on my heart to get for you."  And I just started tearing up.  She had no idea my "regular" coffee maker had stopped working.  And it's not like I even needed another one.  I simply wanted one.  But God saw fit to prompt someone else to gift me with something that I wanted.

It made me feel like God really and truly does know and care.  About the little things.  About not just my needs, but my desires, too.  I felt overwhelmed and grateful.  If he knows and cares about coffee makers, He's got to know and care about bigger things, too.

The ever cautious, stubborn skeptic that I am softened up a little today.  I cannot let fear stop me from believing that God will make good on His promise to give me the desires of my heart if I delight myself in Him.  I cannot let fear prevent me from hoping that somehow, He's working things out for my good.

Sweetness

So, my candy bags were a hit. More than one person said they were so relieved to get it because they hadn't had anything to eat that day.  lol.  And I made sure to get good candy, too.  You know what I'm talking about. If you're going to get candy, nobody wants tiny little Tootsie Rolls and nondescript suckers.  Nawl, we talking about fun-sized Snickers and Twix and Skittles and Starburst and M&Ms and Hershey's Kisses.   Someone even posted the "Here's hoping your semester gets off to a 'sweet' start" note on the door of the grad student computer lab.  It brightened my day to know I brightened someone else's day.

I taught my first two classes yesterday, well, not really taught, but more like went over the syllabus, introduced myself, let them introduce themselves, etc. I seem to have a motivated group of kids with the exception of two guys in my 9:05 that I can already tell are going to be annoying slackers.  Anyway, they're all freshmen, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, even at 8:00 a.m.  I think it'll be fun.

There is also a new super cutie I'm sharing an office with.  He's another one of these people overly gifted with language-learning ability that the Romance Languages department has a tendency to attract.  He speaks Spanish, French and Italian and is learning Portuguese.  I hate these people, but am drawn to them like a magnet because I want to feel as comfortable speaking a language not my own as they do.  I still get nervous about my Spanish even though I've been studying it all these years, and my French could definitely use some work.  Nevertheless, we had a nice little convo which flowed in alternating bits of Spanish, French, and English.  "If you ever want to practice, I'm right over here," he said.  Okay.  With your caramel latte skin, dark hair and Colgate smile.  He said he liked my name.  I like his too.  It's so Latin lover-y.  Like, if Eat Pray Love had taken place in South America, Julia Roberts' paramour would've had this guy's name. I didn't say that, though.  C'mon.

I always get excited for the chance to make stuff for people.  I have two loaves of zucchini bread on back order.  I guess I got a little zealous this summer making it for people when I still had zucchini growing in my garden and other people got wind of it and asked if they could also partake.  I'm also going to make some homemade vanilla ice cream and super easy cobbler for a little dinner party coming up.

And I just remembered I filled up my Jittery Joe's card with stamps, so I can get a free coffee.  I might save it for a special day.

Tomorrow is the day (Part II)

So, last Thursday I wore my new white peasant dress. It was the first day of orientation for the teaching assistants, the official "first day back" for most people in the program.

Tomorrow, I'm wearing my red dress with my red wedge sandals because tomorrow is the first day of class.  I'm done with coursework, but starting this year, I'll be on the teaching end of things.  Two sections of Spanish 1001.  In other words, Spanish For Dummies. lol.

Really, I think I prefer teaching the lowest level for now.  Preparation won't be too involved.  At this level, the syllabus and all assignments are already set by the higher ups in the program who organize the courses.  My students will be a bunch of scared freshmen who will be dying for a smiley instructor who loves to get interactive.  I'll be able to devote more time to preparing for comps.

I'm wearing my red dress because I want the first day of the semester to know I'm fierce.  I want it to know that I'm on fiya.  Plus, teaching gives me an excuse to dress up and wear cute shoes.  I don't want anyone thinking I'm one of the freshmen, now do I?

I had an idea to do something cute for everyone to get the semester started off right.  And once a cute idea gets into my head, I must carry it out to fruition.  I thought, What if I bought a bunch of candy and made up some goody bags to put in people's boxes?  I did just that and attached a note that said, "Here's hoping your semester gets off to a 'sweet' start! - Love, Chantell."

But here's the thing with me.  When I think of an idea to give someone a little present, I also envision how they will receive the present.  Like, I want people to walk into the department tomorrow, and get excited with they see a pretty little bag with a pretty little ribbon tied around it in their boxes.  I want them to see this colorful, festive thing in their boxes (the attached note was printed out on pink paper) and I want them to be delighted.

The thing is, sometimes I wish some particular thing would happen to me.  Like, that one day I would find a pleasant surprise in my box (and I have before).  But instead of waiting for it to happen to me, why not make it happen for someone else?

I think I'm going to start doing that.  Make it a thing, like wearing flowers in my hair.  Like, if something pops into my head that I wish someone would do for me, I will (within reason and the bounds of appropriateness, lol) try to do it for someone else.  Sort of an inverted "pay it forward."

Here's hoping tomorrow is the beginning of an awesome semester!

Tomorrow is the day

that I'm wearing my new dress.  It will be a new day, the beginning of a new phase for me in the PhD program, and I'll probably be meeting some new people.  All compelling reasons for wearing a new dress.

I will wear my yellow wedge sandals, I will wear my hair sunflower, and I will carry my new bag with Vincent Van Gogh violets on it.  It will be a new, bright, flowery day.

I can do it. I can't do it.

My mindset swings back and forth between between believing either one of those two sentences.

Of course, when I believe I can do it, I feel buoyant, like the sun is shining and I can feel the wind in my hair, and I'm power walking to some important place.  Every remembrance brings a smile to my face and my present reality feels like a calm, steady launch pad, ready to shoot me into a brilliant new reality that's closer than I think it is.

Naturally, when I believe that I can't do it, I feel like I've just been attacked by the gray.  Hopelessness lingers in every exhalation of air, and every tomorrow seems doomed to be a stagnant repetition of what I've always known.  The emotional mathematics of cost-benefit analysis seem stacked impossibly against me.  Every increasing investment feels like it's destined for an ever decreasing return.

Today, I believe I can do it.  I am halfway done with my last comps list.  I got my teaching schedule for the upcoming semester, and I'm beginning to remember the things that I enjoyed about teaching.  I'm starting to envision what my upcoming semester is going to look like.  It's going to be activity packed; I will have to manage my time well.  I will have to hunker down, and I will have to rely on myself to get done what I need to get done.  But I can taste the satisfaction I'll have when I stick to my guns and I complete things the way I've planned.  It's going to be a time of learning and discovery in preparing for comps, and it will be a time of re-familiarizing myself with the classroom in being a teaching assistant again.

I've had a chance to process a lot of things, and I feel like my best course of action is to continue to believe I did the right thing by moving to start this program two years ago, that I've made right decisions since, and that I will continue on this track until I reach the other side.

I can do it.  I know that I can.  I believe that I can.

(Sunflower) Surprises

I went home to spend time with my family before the onslaught of the upcoming semester next week.  Classes don't start until the 12th, but orientation for me starts Thursday. Not even a week of freedom (which hasn't exactly been freedom) left.  I'm beyond needing to get on the ball.

I was treated to a few "surprises" while I was home.  It's just nice when you're reminded that people are thinking about you.  It forces me to stop and be thankful.  Just to stop and be thankful for the people in my life who love me and care about me.  It truly is a blessing.

Let's see, I got a triple succession of gifts from mi mejor amiga who happened to be in town. A set of sunflower coasters.  An umbrella with Vincent Van Gogh violets and a matching bag.  She's the same friend of my sunflower umbrella. A friend moved by my floral obsession.  A lady at my parents' church who specializes in making pretty little wreaths made me a giant sunflower out of the material she normally uses.  My mom gifted me with a couple of sunflower accent pillows (to accompany my sunflower bedspread), and lastly, I was gifted with a pretty little frock. It's a cute little white peasant dress that makes me feel soft and feminine and sprightly.  It's a dress I've been looking for for a long time and I want to wear it right away (as I do all new items of clothing I acquire), but this one, for some reason, has to wait.  I feel like I have to wait for the right time to wear it.  And somehow, I think I'll know when that right time is.

There were other things this weekend that were for me.  Things that reminded me that God hasn't forgotten about me.  Things that let me know that I am loved.  Little things that make a big difference.