You pull it out because you're trying to be healthy. You have great visions of Vitamin C. It will be refreshing, you think. It will be good.
And then it spills, and your dreams of orange juice grandeur are crushed. You must change your pants. You must sop up pulp. You must sweat and swear.
I did not spill orange juice.
I did spill metaphorical orange juice.
Damndamndamn.
Feb 12, 2010
Random, Profound Thoughts
It is 7:16am.
I must needs hie me to a restroom.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of being an English teacher that I sometimes think in Shakespeare-talk.
I have a student that just drives me nuts. He is a meanie. I have decided, should I ever need to refer to this student on my blog, I will use the code-name, "Bromulous." He gets my goose.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of living with Grandpa for two years that I sometimes think in Grandpa-talk.
"Hoooooly To-LE-do!"
Speaking of Grandpa, he had a blind date. When Grandpa considers women, he has two qualifications: 1.) That she be a democrat, and 2.) That she is in relatively good health.
We young whipper-snappers may look for an attractive appearance, decent education, a sense of humor, etc. With Grandpa: it's health. He just wants to know that a lady friend won't collapse when they're out to dinner.
In any case, the blind date did not fruitify. He had a blast with her, but at the end, the lady told him that she was already seriously dating someone else. What the h***! Old lady played my Grandpa?! Oh you SIT DOWN, beeatch!!
I work at a Christian school. I do not use words like beeatch.
I am very proper.
Actually, it is one of my favorite things to explain the dirty jokes in Shakespeare to my students. Also, yesterday, I told my seniors the story of why Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI didn't consummate their marriage for so long which was basically: because they couldn't figure out how to "do it." They literally didn't know how, for years. The seniors were thoroughly titillated by that story.
Earlier in the year, I accidentally used the word "fugly." I thought it was a combination of "funky" and "ugly." It is a combination of a different word with "ugly." My seniors have yet to let me forget it. Especially since the subject of my description was Jesus.
Lord forgive me.
My AP kids are going to come in in 15 minutes. I lost half of their timed writes. I am hideously irresponsible.
Today is Friday. I have a three day weekend. God speed, 2:45pm.
I must needs hie me to a restroom.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of being an English teacher that I sometimes think in Shakespeare-talk.
I have a student that just drives me nuts. He is a meanie. I have decided, should I ever need to refer to this student on my blog, I will use the code-name, "Bromulous." He gets my goose.
It is an unfortunate (awesome) byproduct of living with Grandpa for two years that I sometimes think in Grandpa-talk.
"Hoooooly To-LE-do!"
Speaking of Grandpa, he had a blind date. When Grandpa considers women, he has two qualifications: 1.) That she be a democrat, and 2.) That she is in relatively good health.
We young whipper-snappers may look for an attractive appearance, decent education, a sense of humor, etc. With Grandpa: it's health. He just wants to know that a lady friend won't collapse when they're out to dinner.
In any case, the blind date did not fruitify. He had a blast with her, but at the end, the lady told him that she was already seriously dating someone else. What the h***! Old lady played my Grandpa?! Oh you SIT DOWN, beeatch!!
I work at a Christian school. I do not use words like beeatch.
I am very proper.
Actually, it is one of my favorite things to explain the dirty jokes in Shakespeare to my students. Also, yesterday, I told my seniors the story of why Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI didn't consummate their marriage for so long which was basically: because they couldn't figure out how to "do it." They literally didn't know how, for years. The seniors were thoroughly titillated by that story.
Earlier in the year, I accidentally used the word "fugly." I thought it was a combination of "funky" and "ugly." It is a combination of a different word with "ugly." My seniors have yet to let me forget it. Especially since the subject of my description was Jesus.
Lord forgive me.
My AP kids are going to come in in 15 minutes. I lost half of their timed writes. I am hideously irresponsible.
Today is Friday. I have a three day weekend. God speed, 2:45pm.
Feb 8, 2010
Sunrise
Dawn comes
Like absence stretching against a heavy curtain.
Darkness drawn away
By a hidden hand
To leave the sky sliced
In empty light
And swollen night.
So: it reveals.
Dawn comes
Like a crone climbing over the horizon
The moutains,
Her gnarled knuckles
The light,
A last triumphant burst of vitality.
She is living yet;
So: it is ancient.
Dawn comes
Like a child escaping from inside a well
Gathering breath to cast off the panic;
Gathering breath to cast off the dark
The lid lifts;
Atlas rebels.
Watch the young bird fall out of the nest
And soar.
So: it is new.
Dawn comes
Like a breath to me.
Hopelessness slides off
While the shadows sharpens.
So: it forgives.
Like absence stretching against a heavy curtain.
Darkness drawn away
By a hidden hand
To leave the sky sliced
In empty light
And swollen night.
So: it reveals.
Dawn comes
Like a crone climbing over the horizon
The moutains,
Her gnarled knuckles
The light,
A last triumphant burst of vitality.
She is living yet;
So: it is ancient.
Dawn comes
Like a child escaping from inside a well
Gathering breath to cast off the panic;
Gathering breath to cast off the dark
The lid lifts;
Atlas rebels.
Watch the young bird fall out of the nest
And soar.
So: it is new.
Dawn comes
Like a breath to me.
Hopelessness slides off
While the shadows sharpens.
So: it forgives.
Feb 5, 2010
Trust Anyway
It's my 5th period prep. A Spanish class shares my classroom during 5th period. Someone keeps mentioning donuts.
Me gusta donut.
I've become buddies with one of my sophomore boys, who recently acquired a sticker machine. He brought in a couple homemade stickers for me, with his own graphic designs; I asked him if he would make me one that said, "Trust anyway"-- a phrase that has become a personal mantra for me this year. He misheard me, and made a sticker that said, "Trust anyone."
This makes me laugh. :)
Trust anyone! Trust,like, ANYONE!
I think he's bringing in a "Trust Anyway" sticker for me today.
And that's the Friday charge, y'all. You with the baggage? You with the issues? You who deals with self-loathing? You who deals with shame and lust and pride? You who deals with insecurity? You who can't believe love could happen for you? You who can't believe love will WORK for you? You who is sure you're going to end up just like your parents? You that's unemployed? You that's feeling like a failure? You that's lonely? You that's unsure? You that's jaded? You that's bitter and cynical and angry? You that's grieving? You that feels exhausted and broken?
Trust anyway.
We serve a God that makes things new. He is good, and He loves us.
So even if you have every reason in the world to doubt: trust anyway.
Do.
Me gusta donut.
I've become buddies with one of my sophomore boys, who recently acquired a sticker machine. He brought in a couple homemade stickers for me, with his own graphic designs; I asked him if he would make me one that said, "Trust anyway"-- a phrase that has become a personal mantra for me this year. He misheard me, and made a sticker that said, "Trust anyone."
This makes me laugh. :)
Trust anyone! Trust,like, ANYONE!
I think he's bringing in a "Trust Anyway" sticker for me today.
And that's the Friday charge, y'all. You with the baggage? You with the issues? You who deals with self-loathing? You who deals with shame and lust and pride? You who deals with insecurity? You who can't believe love could happen for you? You who can't believe love will WORK for you? You who is sure you're going to end up just like your parents? You that's unemployed? You that's feeling like a failure? You that's lonely? You that's unsure? You that's jaded? You that's bitter and cynical and angry? You that's grieving? You that feels exhausted and broken?
Trust anyway.
We serve a God that makes things new. He is good, and He loves us.
So even if you have every reason in the world to doubt: trust anyway.
Do.
Feb 1, 2010
...Hello out there?
This year is kicking my caboose. Working as a first year teacher is taking up every spare minute I have; it's honestly tough to do ANYTHING non-teaching-related-- even sleep-- without feeling guilty. No matter what I'm doing, in the back of my head, I'm panicking about my grading pile, trying to invent new lesson plans, thinking about the books I'm teaching which I haven't yet read, criticizing myself for not writing up a handout to help my sophomores better comprehend the Shakespeare they're reading, and so on, and so on, and guilt guilt guilt.
This is why I have not been blogging. Right now, in fact, the thoughts going through my head are, "You need to finish writing up the "Tale of Two Cities" questions. You need to be checking your students' blogs. You need to figure out how you're going to better assist your sophomores." And so on, and so on, and guilt guilt guilt.
However-- as some of you may have just mentally commented when reading the above paragraph-- living so single-mindedly is not healthy. Letting my job take over my entire life is not healthy.
And it's taking a toll, honestly. I'm losing myself. I'm exhausted. I tie so much self-worth to my job that, for instance, when a student in my AP Literature class tells me she doesn't feel like the class is adequately preparing her, as she did this morning-- I feel absolutely crushed.
I am more than an AP class. I am more than just a teacher. And-- what I'm able to feebly assert in the midst of these exhausting, defeating, tangled cobwebs-- I am a GOOD teacher. I know I am. I've seen it. My kids are learning, and they're having fun. I am a GOOD teacher.
But that's not all I am.
What I am, is part divine, and part cursed.
The last several weeks I have been confronted with the magnitude of what it means to consider yourself a Christian. We must acknowledge that we are both made in the image of God-- that we are of heavenly origin, that we have every instinct to recognize what is good, and true, and right-- yet also, that we are fallen. We are cursed. We are sickened and impaired by the perversion of our sinful humanity.
Made in the image of God... and fallen. What a beast, right?
I recognize that I can choose to indulge in one or the other. I can give into this twisted part of me, and indulge in lies, in feelings of insufficiency-- I can tell myself that being a teacher defines me and so when I fail as a teacher, I FAIL. I can tell myself that the fears I have about marriage, about faithfulness, about myself, are all TRUE and that Hope is nothing more than a cruel deceiver. I can give in to self-loathing. I can indulge in sin, and tell myself it doesn't matter. I can work myself to death and distract myself from the things that are truly important. I can howl out at the darkness and let it overwhelm me.
Or, I can indulge in the OTHER half. I can hope, and believe in hope. I can claim a whimsical moment and laugh, and share it with a loving Lord. I can seek goodness, and purity, and the understanding that I am beloved and delighted in. I can choose forgiveness. I can choose wholeness. I can choose to trust, to drive a stake in the ground called TRUST and to cling to it while the storm approaches. I can look defiantly at the rolling dark clouds, and I can roar back at the thunder. I can cry out at the darkness and declare that it has no power over me. I am a child of God. I am made in His image. I am blessed. I am protected.
They fight over me, every day. This dual nature wages a tug of war over my soul, over my psyche, over my heart.
And it is just hard, sometimes, to cling to the right half. You know? Some days, it is just hard.
This is why I have not been blogging. Right now, in fact, the thoughts going through my head are, "You need to finish writing up the "Tale of Two Cities" questions. You need to be checking your students' blogs. You need to figure out how you're going to better assist your sophomores." And so on, and so on, and guilt guilt guilt.
However-- as some of you may have just mentally commented when reading the above paragraph-- living so single-mindedly is not healthy. Letting my job take over my entire life is not healthy.
And it's taking a toll, honestly. I'm losing myself. I'm exhausted. I tie so much self-worth to my job that, for instance, when a student in my AP Literature class tells me she doesn't feel like the class is adequately preparing her, as she did this morning-- I feel absolutely crushed.
I am more than an AP class. I am more than just a teacher. And-- what I'm able to feebly assert in the midst of these exhausting, defeating, tangled cobwebs-- I am a GOOD teacher. I know I am. I've seen it. My kids are learning, and they're having fun. I am a GOOD teacher.
But that's not all I am.
What I am, is part divine, and part cursed.
The last several weeks I have been confronted with the magnitude of what it means to consider yourself a Christian. We must acknowledge that we are both made in the image of God-- that we are of heavenly origin, that we have every instinct to recognize what is good, and true, and right-- yet also, that we are fallen. We are cursed. We are sickened and impaired by the perversion of our sinful humanity.
Made in the image of God... and fallen. What a beast, right?
I recognize that I can choose to indulge in one or the other. I can give into this twisted part of me, and indulge in lies, in feelings of insufficiency-- I can tell myself that being a teacher defines me and so when I fail as a teacher, I FAIL. I can tell myself that the fears I have about marriage, about faithfulness, about myself, are all TRUE and that Hope is nothing more than a cruel deceiver. I can give in to self-loathing. I can indulge in sin, and tell myself it doesn't matter. I can work myself to death and distract myself from the things that are truly important. I can howl out at the darkness and let it overwhelm me.
Or, I can indulge in the OTHER half. I can hope, and believe in hope. I can claim a whimsical moment and laugh, and share it with a loving Lord. I can seek goodness, and purity, and the understanding that I am beloved and delighted in. I can choose forgiveness. I can choose wholeness. I can choose to trust, to drive a stake in the ground called TRUST and to cling to it while the storm approaches. I can look defiantly at the rolling dark clouds, and I can roar back at the thunder. I can cry out at the darkness and declare that it has no power over me. I am a child of God. I am made in His image. I am blessed. I am protected.
They fight over me, every day. This dual nature wages a tug of war over my soul, over my psyche, over my heart.
And it is just hard, sometimes, to cling to the right half. You know? Some days, it is just hard.
Oct 12, 2009
Squat Happens
I'm blogging again. But don't expect this to become a habit-- life as a first year teacher sucks up every spare minute I've got. Woe.
(But JOY, because I got a job doing what I love.)
Currently, I am living rent free with my two new roomies, Deidra and Carly. This is they:
They are darling. I LOVE them.
How are we living rent free, you ask? It turns out the housing market's dive helped some penny-pinching twenty-something chickies save a few bucks: our landlord had to foreclose on the house, and could no longer legally charge us rent. Ta daaah!! The girls have been living there for free since April, and I got to start reaping the benefits when I moved in early September. The house goes up for auction in November, but even IF it gets bought and the peeps want to kick us out rather than issuing a new lease, they have to give us at least 60 days to do so.
Abra cadabra: free rent until January.
"WOW!" all the blog readers exclaimed. "That sounds too good to be true!"
Whoops, it is.
Right before I moved in, the roomies had a goodbye party for another roomie moving out. In one ill-conceived moment of festive frivolity, the party guests decided to make a real fire in our gas fireplace. (They wanted to make s'mores.) The gas pipe melted, the gas began to leak, everyone screamed and ran away, the gas was shut off, and later, the gas man told us with a low stern voice not to turn it back on at any cost, unless we had already fixed it.
Normally a landlord would take care of that sort of thing.
But our landlord is currently fleeing the country.
Pish! Who needs heat in sunny September? WE'RE not going to fork over $1,000 to fix a house we're not going to be living in much longer!
But then October descended, and the frost creeped in, and the poor little fraulines woke up, shivering in their beds...
We really are shivering in our beds, our house was 54 degrees yesterday. That is FREEZING!! I could barely move my fingers to make red ink slashes on essays.
Our solution: keep the oven on full blast, and drag space heaters around. WE ARE RESOURCEFUL WOMEN.
However: it turns out space heaters use up lots of voltage. Also, hair dryers use up lots of voltage. Also, when there is so much voltage, fuses blows, power fails, and the world is plunged into darkness.
The afore-mentioned series of events meant that at 5:15am this morning, I was kneeling on top of the basement tool bench in my bath robe, hair soaking wet, reaching for the fuse switches, and cursing under my breath. What a way to start off Monday.
But hey, at least we have electricity, right?
Wrong.
We received an electric bill which heinously illustrated the frantic attempts of our former landlord to compile his debts and foist them off on poor innocent damsels in distress. The bill was for over $1,000, and represented electricity bills from his other properties. "What are we going to do??!!" we asked each other, appalled. WE can't pay that. Good thing it's in his name-- PAH! No debts attached to us. Solution: we just won't pay it.
Which means that the electric company will shut off our power.
Which means that in about a week, we will have no power.
Anyway, the point of the story is that I'm once more house hunting. Haha!
Another pertinent update includes this handsome dude:
Who, besides being dashing, is a good, good man and-- hooray-- in mutual big-time crush with me. We were off to the ballet in this picture. He went with me to the BALLET!
So life progresses. Teaching is exhausting, stressful, and great-- I've had kids dress up like Beowulf swamp monsters, plan their own funerals (to consider how they want to be remembered-- don't worry, it makes sense), put on plays, blog, act out the Iliad, debate, and humor my many voices, theatrics, and slips of the tongue. (Note to all: it is inadvisable to call Jesus "fugly" when teaching at a private Christian school.) Marc-- the dashing scruffy one-- is terrific, and an incredible source of encouragement, support, and back rubs. And even though my housing situation leaves much to be desired, I have an income-- joy!!-- which makes new house hunting a possibility.
Praise the Lord: live goes on.
(But JOY, because I got a job doing what I love.)
Currently, I am living rent free with my two new roomies, Deidra and Carly. This is they:
They are darling. I LOVE them.
How are we living rent free, you ask? It turns out the housing market's dive helped some penny-pinching twenty-something chickies save a few bucks: our landlord had to foreclose on the house, and could no longer legally charge us rent. Ta daaah!! The girls have been living there for free since April, and I got to start reaping the benefits when I moved in early September. The house goes up for auction in November, but even IF it gets bought and the peeps want to kick us out rather than issuing a new lease, they have to give us at least 60 days to do so.
Abra cadabra: free rent until January.
"WOW!" all the blog readers exclaimed. "That sounds too good to be true!"
Whoops, it is.
Right before I moved in, the roomies had a goodbye party for another roomie moving out. In one ill-conceived moment of festive frivolity, the party guests decided to make a real fire in our gas fireplace. (They wanted to make s'mores.) The gas pipe melted, the gas began to leak, everyone screamed and ran away, the gas was shut off, and later, the gas man told us with a low stern voice not to turn it back on at any cost, unless we had already fixed it.
Normally a landlord would take care of that sort of thing.
But our landlord is currently fleeing the country.
Pish! Who needs heat in sunny September? WE'RE not going to fork over $1,000 to fix a house we're not going to be living in much longer!
But then October descended, and the frost creeped in, and the poor little fraulines woke up, shivering in their beds...
We really are shivering in our beds, our house was 54 degrees yesterday. That is FREEZING!! I could barely move my fingers to make red ink slashes on essays.
Our solution: keep the oven on full blast, and drag space heaters around. WE ARE RESOURCEFUL WOMEN.
However: it turns out space heaters use up lots of voltage. Also, hair dryers use up lots of voltage. Also, when there is so much voltage, fuses blows, power fails, and the world is plunged into darkness.
The afore-mentioned series of events meant that at 5:15am this morning, I was kneeling on top of the basement tool bench in my bath robe, hair soaking wet, reaching for the fuse switches, and cursing under my breath. What a way to start off Monday.
But hey, at least we have electricity, right?
Wrong.
We received an electric bill which heinously illustrated the frantic attempts of our former landlord to compile his debts and foist them off on poor innocent damsels in distress. The bill was for over $1,000, and represented electricity bills from his other properties. "What are we going to do??!!" we asked each other, appalled. WE can't pay that. Good thing it's in his name-- PAH! No debts attached to us. Solution: we just won't pay it.
Which means that the electric company will shut off our power.
Which means that in about a week, we will have no power.
Anyway, the point of the story is that I'm once more house hunting. Haha!
Another pertinent update includes this handsome dude:
Who, besides being dashing, is a good, good man and-- hooray-- in mutual big-time crush with me. We were off to the ballet in this picture. He went with me to the BALLET!
So life progresses. Teaching is exhausting, stressful, and great-- I've had kids dress up like Beowulf swamp monsters, plan their own funerals (to consider how they want to be remembered-- don't worry, it makes sense), put on plays, blog, act out the Iliad, debate, and humor my many voices, theatrics, and slips of the tongue. (Note to all: it is inadvisable to call Jesus "fugly" when teaching at a private Christian school.) Marc-- the dashing scruffy one-- is terrific, and an incredible source of encouragement, support, and back rubs. And even though my housing situation leaves much to be desired, I have an income-- joy!!-- which makes new house hunting a possibility.
Praise the Lord: live goes on.
Sep 10, 2009
Ten Minutes Ready Go
Class starts in ten. Have been needing to catch up the blog on TEACHING!!! So, bullet points: snick snack snorum.
- Student just came in to ask for help soliciting submissions for the student lit magazine. Eight minutes left.
- Teaching at a private Christian school is a little odd. Is a lot odd. Yesterday, the day started off with chapel-- three sermons, and hymns sung to organ music. No kidding-- they used the "old school ORGAN" setting on the keyboard.
- My sophomores LOVE me. We have a blast.
- I'm still winning over my seniors. They require a whole different approach-- they've been together since Kindergarten, and I'm the new one. Who says I have a right to speak into their lives? Have been working on building relationships and having meaningful conversations with them-- also, spending too much time grading their papers so that I can write thoughtful comments. Think it's paying off... It feels different every day.
- Have had to deal with plagiarism already. Good Christian kids still make dumb kid mistakes, apparently.
- One boy took a ten minute bathroom break. After class: "Ryan, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure."
"How are you feeling?"
(Long suspicious pause from Ryan.)
"Like, health wise. How are you feeling?"
"Um... yeah... I guess I've been feeling a little under the weather...?"
"Just because I cannot fathom why a bathroom break would take you so long, unless you were experiencing serious intestinal issues."
The light dawned on him. "OOH, yeah! Oh-- yeah-- you know, Chipotle does that to me." His friends laughed.
"Well steer clear of Chipotle before my class then."
- The kids don't know if I'm Miss, Ms., or Mrs., and call me all three. I'm fine with that-- I'd rather they don't know one way or the other.
- My graffiti board-- a blank piece of posterboard that I covered with paper and hung on the wall for kids to write on-- is already full. Among the quoted: Pink Floyd, Southpark, and Michael Scott. Love itr!
- It's going WELL. I love my little AP class (10 kids), I feel big things going on with the Seniors, and obviously, I'm having a ton of fun with my 10th graders.
There's the bell! One more big update though-- I moved! Life no longer occurs daily at Grandpa's house. I'm going to miss him, but I was really feeling ready for more independence. Living now with Carly and Deidra- WONDERFUL friends!-- at a house just a couple blocks away, and I've transformed my little room into the coziest, sweetest little nest! Left Gramps little love notes to find all over the house-- a reminder that I'm not far away, and that I'll see him SOON.
More later. Class now.
- Student just came in to ask for help soliciting submissions for the student lit magazine. Eight minutes left.
- Teaching at a private Christian school is a little odd. Is a lot odd. Yesterday, the day started off with chapel-- three sermons, and hymns sung to organ music. No kidding-- they used the "old school ORGAN" setting on the keyboard.
- My sophomores LOVE me. We have a blast.
- I'm still winning over my seniors. They require a whole different approach-- they've been together since Kindergarten, and I'm the new one. Who says I have a right to speak into their lives? Have been working on building relationships and having meaningful conversations with them-- also, spending too much time grading their papers so that I can write thoughtful comments. Think it's paying off... It feels different every day.
- Have had to deal with plagiarism already. Good Christian kids still make dumb kid mistakes, apparently.
- One boy took a ten minute bathroom break. After class: "Ryan, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure."
"How are you feeling?"
(Long suspicious pause from Ryan.)
"Like, health wise. How are you feeling?"
"Um... yeah... I guess I've been feeling a little under the weather...?"
"Just because I cannot fathom why a bathroom break would take you so long, unless you were experiencing serious intestinal issues."
The light dawned on him. "OOH, yeah! Oh-- yeah-- you know, Chipotle does that to me." His friends laughed.
"Well steer clear of Chipotle before my class then."
- The kids don't know if I'm Miss, Ms., or Mrs., and call me all three. I'm fine with that-- I'd rather they don't know one way or the other.
- My graffiti board-- a blank piece of posterboard that I covered with paper and hung on the wall for kids to write on-- is already full. Among the quoted: Pink Floyd, Southpark, and Michael Scott. Love itr!
- It's going WELL. I love my little AP class (10 kids), I feel big things going on with the Seniors, and obviously, I'm having a ton of fun with my 10th graders.
There's the bell! One more big update though-- I moved! Life no longer occurs daily at Grandpa's house. I'm going to miss him, but I was really feeling ready for more independence. Living now with Carly and Deidra- WONDERFUL friends!-- at a house just a couple blocks away, and I've transformed my little room into the coziest, sweetest little nest! Left Gramps little love notes to find all over the house-- a reminder that I'm not far away, and that I'll see him SOON.
More later. Class now.
Sep 5, 2009
Moth #2
On the curtain she waited,
Scalloped wings spread in
Apologetic space
Water hits the floor and
Steam rises
Dampening the dust on her wings.
On the floor, submissive
I find her again
A bow, a sweeping fan
And when waking, she is above me
Still-- still
A silent guardian
Garishly displayed against smooth white cotton.
Behind her, out the window
The world unfolds
Leaves ricochet, shocked to be shaken
Rain hums and wakes and washes them all
While I watch through a spider web landscape.
My dusty guardian is not so sinister perhaps;
But misunderstood.
Scalloped wings spread in
Apologetic space
Water hits the floor and
Steam rises
Dampening the dust on her wings.
On the floor, submissive
I find her again
A bow, a sweeping fan
And when waking, she is above me
Still-- still
A silent guardian
Garishly displayed against smooth white cotton.
Behind her, out the window
The world unfolds
Leaves ricochet, shocked to be shaken
Rain hums and wakes and washes them all
While I watch through a spider web landscape.
My dusty guardian is not so sinister perhaps;
But misunderstood.
Sep 2, 2009
Soldier
It's 7:00AM, and I'm at my desk. Class will start in 45 minutes.
I was still here, less than twelve hours ago. I was here for the twelve hours before that. When I finally DID leave, I went home, and prepared for Friday's class, packed for the retreat, and finally fell into bed around 10:15PM. I had frantic, nerve-wracking dreams all night, and when my alarm finally sounded at 4:45AM, I woke with a jolt and a gasp. I could barely keep my eyes open on my drive to work.
It's not a good sign when you imagine getting into a car wreck and feel some relief, thinking, "At least then, I could take the day off..."
And it's only Wednesday.
Why this sudden terror and exhaustion? Why this seizure of anxiety after two solid days of teaching? Is this the devil?
I am dreading 6th period. I'm pretty sure they were largely featured in the terrible dreams.
Two thoughts, I'm finding comfort in. One, is that I know that, SOMEHOW, I will make it to the end of the day. 3:00PM will come. And bedtime-- glorious, blissful bedtime will come after that. I might even get to sleep in until, like, 7:00 tomorrow because the kids won't show up at the retreat center until later. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with how much I have to do, it's been a comforting thing to look at the final deadline and say, "SOMEHOW it will all get done. I don't know how, but it will." And it always has. And it will today. I will make it to 3:00PM, and by the time I do, I will have taught five high-school English classes.
Second: this is a little childish, but that is sometimes a pattern with me. And whenever I'm feeling especially knotted up with nerves, it's tremendously helpful to find myself in a moment of silliness. I am picturing myself as a solider. This morning, I am in camo gear, lying on my belly in a trench after a fitful night of sleep. I'm watching the sun rise through a barbed wire coil, and thinking that it's beautiful, and thinking that I need to GEAR UP for the battle today. I've got mud on my face because, word: I am hard core. I can do this. I have weapons. And I can take on 6th period. And besides, there are other hard core soldiers fighting with me.
(Cue bloggies to PRAY.)
Anyway. I will make it. I will survive. This is just teaching! Why am I so freaked out? I know the ending to the story: God wins. All I have to do is love others, and love Him in the meantime. He'll take care of the rest.
Roger that.
I was still here, less than twelve hours ago. I was here for the twelve hours before that. When I finally DID leave, I went home, and prepared for Friday's class, packed for the retreat, and finally fell into bed around 10:15PM. I had frantic, nerve-wracking dreams all night, and when my alarm finally sounded at 4:45AM, I woke with a jolt and a gasp. I could barely keep my eyes open on my drive to work.
It's not a good sign when you imagine getting into a car wreck and feel some relief, thinking, "At least then, I could take the day off..."
And it's only Wednesday.
Why this sudden terror and exhaustion? Why this seizure of anxiety after two solid days of teaching? Is this the devil?
I am dreading 6th period. I'm pretty sure they were largely featured in the terrible dreams.
Two thoughts, I'm finding comfort in. One, is that I know that, SOMEHOW, I will make it to the end of the day. 3:00PM will come. And bedtime-- glorious, blissful bedtime will come after that. I might even get to sleep in until, like, 7:00 tomorrow because the kids won't show up at the retreat center until later. Whenever I'm feeling overwhelmed with how much I have to do, it's been a comforting thing to look at the final deadline and say, "SOMEHOW it will all get done. I don't know how, but it will." And it always has. And it will today. I will make it to 3:00PM, and by the time I do, I will have taught five high-school English classes.
Second: this is a little childish, but that is sometimes a pattern with me. And whenever I'm feeling especially knotted up with nerves, it's tremendously helpful to find myself in a moment of silliness. I am picturing myself as a solider. This morning, I am in camo gear, lying on my belly in a trench after a fitful night of sleep. I'm watching the sun rise through a barbed wire coil, and thinking that it's beautiful, and thinking that I need to GEAR UP for the battle today. I've got mud on my face because, word: I am hard core. I can do this. I have weapons. And I can take on 6th period. And besides, there are other hard core soldiers fighting with me.
(Cue bloggies to PRAY.)
Anyway. I will make it. I will survive. This is just teaching! Why am I so freaked out? I know the ending to the story: God wins. All I have to do is love others, and love Him in the meantime. He'll take care of the rest.
Roger that.
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