We've spoken about this before, so it should come as no surprise that I'm not so good with the decisions. This truth prompted my family to purchase a "decision maker" for me at Christmas. It is a wooden platform embedded with magnets. It has different answers written on the top and above it hangs a pendulum, also with a magnet. The pendulum swings wildly at first, but then slows down and frantically jitters between two answers before finally landing on one. The likeness to my own decision making process is uncanny.
I actually turned to it as I stared at a "continue with purchase" button on a travel-booking site Monday. It told me yes, and I proceeded. I am now officially spending Spring Break in Paris, France. Once I made the decision I felt nothing but relief. Although, I periodically go through buyer's remorse moments and fret about the stability of the world in general. France is God's world, too, and wherever I am, there is He also.
My plunge into international travel inspired me in other areas, and I finally got up the courage to submit my book query to an agent. Let me set up the scene. I've reviewed this agent's submission guidelines exhaustively, but I did it one more time last night. Their web site states that an immediate e-mail acknowledgment should follow your query submission. It instructs you to resubmit if you do not receive one. I did not get one, so I sent it again with a different subject line. Still no acknowledgement. I waited until this morning and sent it again from my work e-mail account. As of the drafting of this post, I have no acknowledgement in either inbox. However, after the third attempt, I read the agent's blog where she happened to have posted about the agency's query policy. She casually mentioned it sometimes takes a few days for the acknowledgement to appear. . . visualize me in a state of frenzied worry and panic. I strive for perfection when making Hamburger Helper. Doing something this important wrong is the stuff my nightmares are made of. . .!!!
So, one possible outcome of all this decision-making empowerment is, I just sent the same query to an agent (not just any agent, but the one I've been researching for six months) three times, that'll go over well, very professional. The other? I have been rejected by their e-mail system, not once, not twice, but three times from two different addresses. Only time will tell. In the meantime, anybody know a good agent?
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
New habits are born easily
What foods did you hate and refuse to eat as a child? Mine were numerous: broccoli, spinach, tomatoes, onions, cottage cheese, sour cream, even mayonnaise. As an adult, all of these foods have become my favorites. I want spinach leaves on my sandwiches, tomatoes on my burgers, would jump through fire for crispy and delicious onion rings, love cottage cheese for breakfast, and you get the idea.
I found the same thing to be true with words. Certain parts of speech have meandered into my vocabulary quite suddenly. Like the word ‘foolish’. It’s not an uncommon or difficult word, but I never used it much (read: ever) as a child or teenager and now, it’s just poppin’ up everywhere. I’m sure this can be attributed to the fact that I am a WRITER and also an avid reader. Oh, and also, I grade approximately 300 pages a day (oh yes, I counted) in every core subject. There, that mystery is solved.
I cited these happenings in order to compare them to my life as a teacher. I now practice what my teachers preached. I embrace and enforce the rules I rejected and rebelled against. I subject my students to things that I hated my teachers for when I was growing up. And I went to public school. Within the private education setting, I know I have much more latitude when it comes to discipline (disclaimer: we do not practice corporal punishment). I am constantly telling students to tuck in shirts and change out of their P.E. shoes (part of our dress code). I daily assign detention for tardies and nail them for talking in class, failing to do homework, and a plethora of other things that I DID as a teenager.
The irony? I was much worse than any of them (I hope), and I’m quite afraid I will one day soon be blackmailed. I skipped class almost daily my senior year – all of my seniors, or senior wanabees, are quite motivated and dedicated to graduating on time, and therefore miss very little school. I don’t know much about my students’ “extracurricular activities” but none of the signs of alcohol or drug abuse/experimentation are there. It is a small school where my own sister attends. I know she isn’t involved in those things and she never alludes to any of her friends partaking, either. (Partaking, another one of those words.) However, as a high school student I spent my Fridays and Saturdays, and many weekdays, in places I had no business being, and as a result, I tend to be more suspicious of my students than is probably fair.
In closing, remember that one teacher you really didn’t like that was never, NEVER, sick? Mine was my senior chemistry teacher and she missed maybe one day the whole semester. I had a student the other day comment on how I am never out sick, and I’m not (and thank God because I don’t have insurance). Her words: “Ms. Rachel you’re never sick, you’re always here.” She didn’t mean it in an ugly way, she’s one of the students that can stand me. But what about the others? I ask this and chuckle to myself. That’s right, I come from very good stock and I will always be at work, ready to tell you to tuck your shirt, set your goals, stop talking at the computers, etc.
Some women turn into their mothers. I however, have turned into Mrs. Buckley, Room 318, Chemistry I.
I found the same thing to be true with words. Certain parts of speech have meandered into my vocabulary quite suddenly. Like the word ‘foolish’. It’s not an uncommon or difficult word, but I never used it much (read: ever) as a child or teenager and now, it’s just poppin’ up everywhere. I’m sure this can be attributed to the fact that I am a WRITER and also an avid reader. Oh, and also, I grade approximately 300 pages a day (oh yes, I counted) in every core subject. There, that mystery is solved.
I cited these happenings in order to compare them to my life as a teacher. I now practice what my teachers preached. I embrace and enforce the rules I rejected and rebelled against. I subject my students to things that I hated my teachers for when I was growing up. And I went to public school. Within the private education setting, I know I have much more latitude when it comes to discipline (disclaimer: we do not practice corporal punishment). I am constantly telling students to tuck in shirts and change out of their P.E. shoes (part of our dress code). I daily assign detention for tardies and nail them for talking in class, failing to do homework, and a plethora of other things that I DID as a teenager.
The irony? I was much worse than any of them (I hope), and I’m quite afraid I will one day soon be blackmailed. I skipped class almost daily my senior year – all of my seniors, or senior wanabees, are quite motivated and dedicated to graduating on time, and therefore miss very little school. I don’t know much about my students’ “extracurricular activities” but none of the signs of alcohol or drug abuse/experimentation are there. It is a small school where my own sister attends. I know she isn’t involved in those things and she never alludes to any of her friends partaking, either. (Partaking, another one of those words.) However, as a high school student I spent my Fridays and Saturdays, and many weekdays, in places I had no business being, and as a result, I tend to be more suspicious of my students than is probably fair.
In closing, remember that one teacher you really didn’t like that was never, NEVER, sick? Mine was my senior chemistry teacher and she missed maybe one day the whole semester. I had a student the other day comment on how I am never out sick, and I’m not (and thank God because I don’t have insurance). Her words: “Ms. Rachel you’re never sick, you’re always here.” She didn’t mean it in an ugly way, she’s one of the students that can stand me. But what about the others? I ask this and chuckle to myself. That’s right, I come from very good stock and I will always be at work, ready to tell you to tuck your shirt, set your goals, stop talking at the computers, etc.
Some women turn into their mothers. I however, have turned into Mrs. Buckley, Room 318, Chemistry I.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Characters
I have tried and tried to find a humorous topic to write on today. I’ve wracked my brain for a funny story from the past few days and nothing has surfaced, at least not one I wouldn’t be considered cruel for writing about. The topic I keep going back to is the people in my life, the ones I see every day. So, today will be character introduction, and some of it might be funny.
Let’s start at the top, at the beginning – my parents. My dad is amazing, a Vietnam veteran, the most honest and hardworking person I know. He is a fisherman, a metal detector, an expert on end time prophecy, and a right-wing, arms-bearing, conservative Christian REPUBLICAN. It is quite possible the Fed will arrive at our house one day soon, as my dad routinely invites them. Every time a story on Fox News gets his dander up, he stands in front of the television shouting his address and proposes a meeting in our front yard for later in the day. A duel of sorts. . .
My mom is perpetually 16. She plans her evenings around American Idol, is addicted to computer games, shops when she gets angry, and enjoys slamming doors and throwing things, mainly dishes and remotes. (I’d better not say anymore because she reads this blog daily.) Her good habits far outweigh her bad ones. She is one of the few people I know that will absolutely do anything for anybody. She has always put my sisters and me ahead of herself. I start thinking about things I know she’s given up in order for me to have, and I tear up.
On to the truly entertaining one. Rebekah. There are a few previous posts that will shed light on the history of our relationship. Lately, we’ve become buddies. She’s matured and I’ve learned to pick my battles. We “hang out” and sometimes have dance parties – just the two of us. We also share an affinity for trashy scary movies. I saw her through her first boyfriend-related tragedy about a month ago. As an individual, she is so much stronger than I ever was, and I am so grateful. She is not the least bit afraid to show her values. She is uninfluenced by others and their perception of “cool.” I respect her for that so much. A good anecdote to illustrate her less-practical side involves a sweatshirt. She picked out said sweatshirt and came up short, so I pitched in. It was expensive. When mom exclaimed, "You spent $___ on a sweatshirt!" Rebekah's response was, "Well. . .it's reversible."
There are several other noteworthy characters to talk about, including all of my students. However, I have a basketball game to get to, so we’ll have to discuss them later.
Let’s start at the top, at the beginning – my parents. My dad is amazing, a Vietnam veteran, the most honest and hardworking person I know. He is a fisherman, a metal detector, an expert on end time prophecy, and a right-wing, arms-bearing, conservative Christian REPUBLICAN. It is quite possible the Fed will arrive at our house one day soon, as my dad routinely invites them. Every time a story on Fox News gets his dander up, he stands in front of the television shouting his address and proposes a meeting in our front yard for later in the day. A duel of sorts. . .
My mom is perpetually 16. She plans her evenings around American Idol, is addicted to computer games, shops when she gets angry, and enjoys slamming doors and throwing things, mainly dishes and remotes. (I’d better not say anymore because she reads this blog daily.) Her good habits far outweigh her bad ones. She is one of the few people I know that will absolutely do anything for anybody. She has always put my sisters and me ahead of herself. I start thinking about things I know she’s given up in order for me to have, and I tear up.
On to the truly entertaining one. Rebekah. There are a few previous posts that will shed light on the history of our relationship. Lately, we’ve become buddies. She’s matured and I’ve learned to pick my battles. We “hang out” and sometimes have dance parties – just the two of us. We also share an affinity for trashy scary movies. I saw her through her first boyfriend-related tragedy about a month ago. As an individual, she is so much stronger than I ever was, and I am so grateful. She is not the least bit afraid to show her values. She is uninfluenced by others and their perception of “cool.” I respect her for that so much. A good anecdote to illustrate her less-practical side involves a sweatshirt. She picked out said sweatshirt and came up short, so I pitched in. It was expensive. When mom exclaimed, "You spent $___ on a sweatshirt!" Rebekah's response was, "Well. . .it's reversible."
There are several other noteworthy characters to talk about, including all of my students. However, I have a basketball game to get to, so we’ll have to discuss them later.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Job Description
Today, I spent 25 minutes in Game Stop. Prior to today, I’m not sure I’ve spent 25 seconds in any kind of video game store. Our school has an academic and good behavior incentive program called A-Privilege. Good grades and no serious disciplinary issues for a two-month period will earn a student two months of “privilege.” The two months is topped off with a day away from school, on which we treat our students to lunch and an outing. Sometimes it’s bowling or miniature golf; today it was a day at the mall in Tyler, and consequently, Game Stop.
I wound up in Game Stop because of one very special student. Seeing him every day reminds me why I do what I do for a third of the salary I am “eligible” for given my education and background. This student was enrolled at the academy the year I began working there again. He was completely beaten down by his peers from public school, to the point that just about anything would drive him to tears. Self esteem was non-existent and his brilliance and bright personality were dull and unnoticeable. At first, he was withdrawn and shy, untrusting, but after time he blossomed. By the end of the year he was friends with everyone and he returned this year with a smile on his face, full of summer stories, which he excitedly shared with fellow students, teachers, and anyone else that he could find. He is proof that God can heal anyone, that a loving, Christian environment IS the answer.
When this student found out I would be accompanying them on their outing today in place of the pastor, he asked if I would be in his group. Students his age are not required to have a chaperone, but he wanted me with him, so I agreed. We arrived at the mall and he ran ahead with his friends (friends in plural, something he didn’t have a short time ago), but when I came through the entrance he was waiting.
“Ms. Rachel, let’s form our group.”
So away we went…to Game Stop. The jargon amazed me. I stood by and watched as he knowingly traded games and asked about new games, specific versions, upcoming release dates, and the methods of downloading cheat codes. He moved with confidence, secure in his right to be himself. That’s how he behaves in the classroom, too. His personality is wonderful – he’s a little different, but so was John the Baptist. It is a blessing to me every time I see one of our older boys, one with a souped up pick-up or a starting spot on our basketball team, walk by this student and acknowledge him and show him kindness. That’s just the way it is at Calvary Way. My students are wonderful. They didn’t all start out that way, but they are educated in a place where the presence of God dwells, and where prayer goes on almost constantly.
This student is not our only success story. We have many. Some have come from broken and abusive homes, others deny God and His existence daily. Whatever their issues when they come, we always see improvement, maybe not as much as we want as humans, but some. When I think of it spiritually I know that the seed has been planted, the change may not come in my lifetime, but the work has been started and God will give the increase.
As I write this, the after school group is sitting outside my office singing “Open the Eyes of My Heart.” They’ve been in public school all day, an institution that has unabashedly turned its back on God. They have removed every trace of Him from what they teach. But God finds a way, and those same students come here in the afternoon and willingly, excitedly, and openly glorify God. Not because it is required, but because they want to, because their simple heartfelt praise makes them feel good.
I may never publish a book or travel the world, or even have anybody but family and a few close friends read this blog. But I’m in God’s will. When I wake up in the morning and come to work, I am helping a young person find their way. Many of them have experienced and endured things I’ve never dreamt of, and only one person can help them overcome the obstacles life has cruelly thrown in their path. It's my job to make sure they get introduced.
I wound up in Game Stop because of one very special student. Seeing him every day reminds me why I do what I do for a third of the salary I am “eligible” for given my education and background. This student was enrolled at the academy the year I began working there again. He was completely beaten down by his peers from public school, to the point that just about anything would drive him to tears. Self esteem was non-existent and his brilliance and bright personality were dull and unnoticeable. At first, he was withdrawn and shy, untrusting, but after time he blossomed. By the end of the year he was friends with everyone and he returned this year with a smile on his face, full of summer stories, which he excitedly shared with fellow students, teachers, and anyone else that he could find. He is proof that God can heal anyone, that a loving, Christian environment IS the answer.
When this student found out I would be accompanying them on their outing today in place of the pastor, he asked if I would be in his group. Students his age are not required to have a chaperone, but he wanted me with him, so I agreed. We arrived at the mall and he ran ahead with his friends (friends in plural, something he didn’t have a short time ago), but when I came through the entrance he was waiting.
“Ms. Rachel, let’s form our group.”
So away we went…to Game Stop. The jargon amazed me. I stood by and watched as he knowingly traded games and asked about new games, specific versions, upcoming release dates, and the methods of downloading cheat codes. He moved with confidence, secure in his right to be himself. That’s how he behaves in the classroom, too. His personality is wonderful – he’s a little different, but so was John the Baptist. It is a blessing to me every time I see one of our older boys, one with a souped up pick-up or a starting spot on our basketball team, walk by this student and acknowledge him and show him kindness. That’s just the way it is at Calvary Way. My students are wonderful. They didn’t all start out that way, but they are educated in a place where the presence of God dwells, and where prayer goes on almost constantly.
This student is not our only success story. We have many. Some have come from broken and abusive homes, others deny God and His existence daily. Whatever their issues when they come, we always see improvement, maybe not as much as we want as humans, but some. When I think of it spiritually I know that the seed has been planted, the change may not come in my lifetime, but the work has been started and God will give the increase.
As I write this, the after school group is sitting outside my office singing “Open the Eyes of My Heart.” They’ve been in public school all day, an institution that has unabashedly turned its back on God. They have removed every trace of Him from what they teach. But God finds a way, and those same students come here in the afternoon and willingly, excitedly, and openly glorify God. Not because it is required, but because they want to, because their simple heartfelt praise makes them feel good.
I may never publish a book or travel the world, or even have anybody but family and a few close friends read this blog. But I’m in God’s will. When I wake up in the morning and come to work, I am helping a young person find their way. Many of them have experienced and endured things I’ve never dreamt of, and only one person can help them overcome the obstacles life has cruelly thrown in their path. It's my job to make sure they get introduced.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Paris...in the Spring?
Spring Break is fast approaching and I promised myself a vacation before Christmas. I haven't booked one yet - probably my sub-conscious (and conscience) at work. However, the reason I'm actually going to cite is the Last-Minute Deal. Europe is on my list. I cancelled a trip to Spain and France this past fall for financial and a host of other reasons. Although, I think the chief one was fear. The minute it was cancelled I burst into tears and immediately started cooking up plans to get across the Atlantic all over again.
Back to the Last-Minute Deal - they're cheaper, and, for someone like me, who analyzes everything down the bone, who can over think which oatmeal flavor to eat for breakfast, and can worry to the point of physical illness, it's a good spur-of-the-moment decision making tool. Last time, I had seven months to talk myself out of the trip - this time I'll have about three weeks before departure.
Paris seems to be the lucky lady. I feel as though I have to get Paris out of the way before I can truly enjoy any other destination. And, if I only make it to Europe one time, Paris is the place I want to see more than any other.
Now, I have one week before my planned departure date is up for booking and I am nervous wreck. So far today I've felt pretty good about going, but I have moments where I panic. Here are some of the reasons:
Money. This trip will eat into my savings. I don't have a lot of money put back, but at least I have some. This trip won't take all of it, but all the same, I'm a freelance writer and a small private school administrator, I'm not exactly rolling in the dough. What if I need a filling? Ahhhh...see...there's the Type A. Good old "what if?" Be gone!
The book. Always the book. I tell myself I should take the time off and park in front of the computer. Well, I can tell you right now that won't work because if I'm at home I'm going to watch Seinfeld and do other worthless things (I am so NOT calling Seinfeld worthless). Additionally, I will get sucked into other tasks and I'll have people around who will distract me. Plus, I won't unwind, I need to disconnect. My mother (very wisely) suggested I use the trip as a reward - get the book ready and submitted to an agent before you go. In other words, the trip date will be my deadline. Note: I'm not taking my laptop to the other side of the world...I'm just not.
Traveling alone. I will be all by my lonesome. First trip overseas, alone. Is it a good idea? Paris is a well-developed city and I am a smart person. I've visited large American cities and have been able to navigate very well thanks to a little pre-departure research (I must exclude New York from this example - that was five days of perpetual lostness). But, Paris - I don't speak the language and I hear the French are less than helpful when it comes to poor, lost American tourists. Still, I will know my hotel address, will study maps and the metro system, will plan well, and if all else fails, I will bite the bullet and take a cab. I do like the idea of doing this completely alone. It reaffirms my independence and I won't have anyone to please and entertain but myself. So, I can stand in one spot along the Seine for an hour if I want to. I am a people pleaser and I usually put what I want aside to keep everyone else calm and happy, especially on trips.
Homesick. Yes, I do get homesick, although it usually only happens when things don't go well, or when I don't have a home base. A hotel is a home base, it's the place I belong. However, if French people are mean to me if and when I ask them for directions, I could get to missing home and second-guessing my decision. I don't want to have miserable, unhappy memories of Paris - that seems an oxymoron, IT'S PARIS! I can't help but think of Carried Bradshaw in Paris and how unhappy she ended up being. The phone call she made to Miranda, Miranda handing Brady Cheerios. It's visions of the mundane everyday routines that tug on my heartstrings when I get homesick and I know that could happen. Could. And I have no Mr. Big to come rescue me.
World Stability. I'm more than a little concerned about world issues. If the hmmhmm hits the fan, I would like to be on American soil and near my family. However, it appears things will get worse before they get better, so I'd better go while I can. I could travel domestically and the hmmhmm could hit the fan and I would still be away from home. I do still trust the American government...sort of, so I guess if there is a catastrophe and I'm overseas (with hundreds of thousands of other Americans) they've got a plan to get us home, keep us safe, etc.
Plain old guilt. This is weird, but I have so much guilt. My parents and my sisters have never gotten to travel internationally, so why should I get to? Money plays a role in the guilt, too, but I already talked about that.
When it comes right down to it - I want to go, so badly, and in spite of all the reasons above. I can dispel them all. I'm just going to trust in God. If I'm not supposed to go, I know He'll put up a roadblock.
Back to the Last-Minute Deal - they're cheaper, and, for someone like me, who analyzes everything down the bone, who can over think which oatmeal flavor to eat for breakfast, and can worry to the point of physical illness, it's a good spur-of-the-moment decision making tool. Last time, I had seven months to talk myself out of the trip - this time I'll have about three weeks before departure.
Paris seems to be the lucky lady. I feel as though I have to get Paris out of the way before I can truly enjoy any other destination. And, if I only make it to Europe one time, Paris is the place I want to see more than any other.
Now, I have one week before my planned departure date is up for booking and I am nervous wreck. So far today I've felt pretty good about going, but I have moments where I panic. Here are some of the reasons:
Money. This trip will eat into my savings. I don't have a lot of money put back, but at least I have some. This trip won't take all of it, but all the same, I'm a freelance writer and a small private school administrator, I'm not exactly rolling in the dough. What if I need a filling? Ahhhh...see...there's the Type A. Good old "what if?" Be gone!
The book. Always the book. I tell myself I should take the time off and park in front of the computer. Well, I can tell you right now that won't work because if I'm at home I'm going to watch Seinfeld and do other worthless things (I am so NOT calling Seinfeld worthless). Additionally, I will get sucked into other tasks and I'll have people around who will distract me. Plus, I won't unwind, I need to disconnect. My mother (very wisely) suggested I use the trip as a reward - get the book ready and submitted to an agent before you go. In other words, the trip date will be my deadline. Note: I'm not taking my laptop to the other side of the world...I'm just not.
Traveling alone. I will be all by my lonesome. First trip overseas, alone. Is it a good idea? Paris is a well-developed city and I am a smart person. I've visited large American cities and have been able to navigate very well thanks to a little pre-departure research (I must exclude New York from this example - that was five days of perpetual lostness). But, Paris - I don't speak the language and I hear the French are less than helpful when it comes to poor, lost American tourists. Still, I will know my hotel address, will study maps and the metro system, will plan well, and if all else fails, I will bite the bullet and take a cab. I do like the idea of doing this completely alone. It reaffirms my independence and I won't have anyone to please and entertain but myself. So, I can stand in one spot along the Seine for an hour if I want to. I am a people pleaser and I usually put what I want aside to keep everyone else calm and happy, especially on trips.
Homesick. Yes, I do get homesick, although it usually only happens when things don't go well, or when I don't have a home base. A hotel is a home base, it's the place I belong. However, if French people are mean to me if and when I ask them for directions, I could get to missing home and second-guessing my decision. I don't want to have miserable, unhappy memories of Paris - that seems an oxymoron, IT'S PARIS! I can't help but think of Carried Bradshaw in Paris and how unhappy she ended up being. The phone call she made to Miranda, Miranda handing Brady Cheerios. It's visions of the mundane everyday routines that tug on my heartstrings when I get homesick and I know that could happen. Could. And I have no Mr. Big to come rescue me.
World Stability. I'm more than a little concerned about world issues. If the hmmhmm hits the fan, I would like to be on American soil and near my family. However, it appears things will get worse before they get better, so I'd better go while I can. I could travel domestically and the hmmhmm could hit the fan and I would still be away from home. I do still trust the American government...sort of, so I guess if there is a catastrophe and I'm overseas (with hundreds of thousands of other Americans) they've got a plan to get us home, keep us safe, etc.
Plain old guilt. This is weird, but I have so much guilt. My parents and my sisters have never gotten to travel internationally, so why should I get to? Money plays a role in the guilt, too, but I already talked about that.
When it comes right down to it - I want to go, so badly, and in spite of all the reasons above. I can dispel them all. I'm just going to trust in God. If I'm not supposed to go, I know He'll put up a roadblock.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Crush
Remember that Jennifer Page song? It's just a little crush...
There's just something about having a crush that gives you butterflies, huh? It's far less satisfying than the feeling you get when you're in an actual, meaningful relationship, but it's still nice to have someone to look forward to seeing everyday - I know this is true for girls. So, it seems fitting this Valentine's Eve to talk about love, or like, anyway.
Usually, about spring time, I start getting nostalgic about past relationships, and I lose some of my passivity when it comes to dating. This year, it came a little early. Many of my friends and family (okay, most) don't know I did this. I kept it under wraps because it has an aroma of desperation, but, I recently subscribed to an on-line dating service. It didn't work out, and I've since cancelled the membership. However, for about three weeks, I talked to one person, and that non-reproducible, gives-you-butterflies, air of possibility hung thick around me. I met this person, and that feeling quickly evaporated. Proof that ignorance is bliss.
That was a few weeks ago and the nostalgia subsided. Now, though, thanks to the weather, it's making a comeback. Spring time brings the cool, but not too cool mornings that seem to lend a clarity and cleanness to the whole day. Oddly, (this is East Texas, so not really odd at all) those days have been a part of this February's meteorological tapestry. Lately, I've found myself driving with windows down and sun roof open listening to my favorite old crush songs. When I get home in the evenings, I want to go for runs and walks and get out in the boat, and I expect to smell the grill fired up, a sign that summer is approaching. I'm just happy these days, and I want to share it with someone. The analyst in me says that with spring comes renewal, therefore my animal instincts are kicking in telling me to be fruitful and multiply. I can assure you, I have no intention of acting on these instincts. I write it all off to spring fever, just looking for a new element to entertain me until summer gets here.
Although, another theory I have, this time around anyway, is that my book is influencing me. Is it possible to have a crush on a fictional character? I think it is. I've always had a thing for Rhett Butler. But what about a character I've created? This is erring on the side of schizophrenia, so I won't linger here long. The love interest in my book is a Puerto Rican district attorney and the personality (and looks) I've created for him makes me wish he was a real person. I guess that's a sign that my book is engaging. If I, as its creator, can get that wrapped up in the story as I'm writing it, it stands to reason others will, too.
Yet another explanation for this onslaught of mushiness, is that every acquaintance I've run into lately has asked me if I've gotten married. I used to get defensive about these inquiries, but now I shrug it off. I'm very happy with my life. I've been happy with it for quite some time, in spite of not being married or in a serious relationship. So, I really don't think that's the explanation, either.
The culprit is most definitely the time of year, the romance in the air, and I'm not complaining. I even worry that once I'm permanently attached, I won't get this feeling anymore. But, then I remember that I'm waiting for God to send Him, and whatever He has planned for me is so much better than anything I can find or produce on my own. In other words, something wonderful is on the way - even more wonderful than a crush.
There's just something about having a crush that gives you butterflies, huh? It's far less satisfying than the feeling you get when you're in an actual, meaningful relationship, but it's still nice to have someone to look forward to seeing everyday - I know this is true for girls. So, it seems fitting this Valentine's Eve to talk about love, or like, anyway.
Usually, about spring time, I start getting nostalgic about past relationships, and I lose some of my passivity when it comes to dating. This year, it came a little early. Many of my friends and family (okay, most) don't know I did this. I kept it under wraps because it has an aroma of desperation, but, I recently subscribed to an on-line dating service. It didn't work out, and I've since cancelled the membership. However, for about three weeks, I talked to one person, and that non-reproducible, gives-you-butterflies, air of possibility hung thick around me. I met this person, and that feeling quickly evaporated. Proof that ignorance is bliss.
That was a few weeks ago and the nostalgia subsided. Now, though, thanks to the weather, it's making a comeback. Spring time brings the cool, but not too cool mornings that seem to lend a clarity and cleanness to the whole day. Oddly, (this is East Texas, so not really odd at all) those days have been a part of this February's meteorological tapestry. Lately, I've found myself driving with windows down and sun roof open listening to my favorite old crush songs. When I get home in the evenings, I want to go for runs and walks and get out in the boat, and I expect to smell the grill fired up, a sign that summer is approaching. I'm just happy these days, and I want to share it with someone. The analyst in me says that with spring comes renewal, therefore my animal instincts are kicking in telling me to be fruitful and multiply. I can assure you, I have no intention of acting on these instincts. I write it all off to spring fever, just looking for a new element to entertain me until summer gets here.
Although, another theory I have, this time around anyway, is that my book is influencing me. Is it possible to have a crush on a fictional character? I think it is. I've always had a thing for Rhett Butler. But what about a character I've created? This is erring on the side of schizophrenia, so I won't linger here long. The love interest in my book is a Puerto Rican district attorney and the personality (and looks) I've created for him makes me wish he was a real person. I guess that's a sign that my book is engaging. If I, as its creator, can get that wrapped up in the story as I'm writing it, it stands to reason others will, too.
Yet another explanation for this onslaught of mushiness, is that every acquaintance I've run into lately has asked me if I've gotten married. I used to get defensive about these inquiries, but now I shrug it off. I'm very happy with my life. I've been happy with it for quite some time, in spite of not being married or in a serious relationship. So, I really don't think that's the explanation, either.
The culprit is most definitely the time of year, the romance in the air, and I'm not complaining. I even worry that once I'm permanently attached, I won't get this feeling anymore. But, then I remember that I'm waiting for God to send Him, and whatever He has planned for me is so much better than anything I can find or produce on my own. In other words, something wonderful is on the way - even more wonderful than a crush.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Getting off the multi-tasking
Since junior high, I've challenged myself to see just how much I can accomplish all at once. Seventh grade is when I discovered I could shave my legs and wash my face while I let my conditioner set for three minutes. Years later I would study notecards while driving back and forth to school. Not safe, but productive.
Multi-tasking. It was an epidemic about 15 years ago. Oprah talked about it and it snowballed into efficiency reform. I'm good at it, it's the chief reason I'm able to get so much done in 24 hours. I also love it, if I could multi-task while sleeping, well, I would. However, my need to constantly be marking something off my to-do list is starting to take its toll.
While driving to work this morning, I flipped on the radio. It was tuned to a Christian station, and instead of enjoying the song and taking the opportunity to meditate on God and spiritually prepare for my day, I automatically thought to myself, "I need to print this lead sheet and learn the song." (I am the keyboard player at my church.) This thought quickly turned into guilt for not having had prasie & worship rehearsal in several weeks, and soon I was stressed out, I had that feeling in my stomach of worry - the kind I get when a writing deadline is looming, and the words I'm staring at on the screen are not quite article quality. When I realized what I was doing to myself, I made a conscious effort to stop. It worked, in this instance. Most often, the matter is slightly more serious. Work-work, and writing-work have to get done at some point and I can't help but think about those tasks constantly when they are unfinished and incomplete.
Sadly, the past few "vacations" I've taken have either revolved around work, or I've had a writing deadline, meaning my laptop came along with me. A constant reminder that I could not completely unwind and relax. My trip to New Orleans was really for the purpose of researching my book, which is set in the Crescent City. A recent trip to Houston was to attend a conference hosted by the magazine for which I am a regular contributor. I enjoyed both of these trips and found time to do fun things, but nevertheless, I didn't get a "break" from everything, which is what is truly recuperative about a vacation.
My standard days are much the same. When I step from the shower and walk back into my bedroom to get ready, I turn cell phone, television and computer on, thus opening myself wide up for stress. I often work through lunch instead of being social. In the evenings, I won't allow myself to rest until I've done some writing and engaged in some form of exercise. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I've actually tried to pray while doing crunches.
Case in point, it's time I learn to relax and disconnect guilt free, and that means I don't have to multi-task 24 hours a day. It's alright to not be accomplishing something. This new initiative will commence tonight, during The Office.
Multi-tasking. It was an epidemic about 15 years ago. Oprah talked about it and it snowballed into efficiency reform. I'm good at it, it's the chief reason I'm able to get so much done in 24 hours. I also love it, if I could multi-task while sleeping, well, I would. However, my need to constantly be marking something off my to-do list is starting to take its toll.
While driving to work this morning, I flipped on the radio. It was tuned to a Christian station, and instead of enjoying the song and taking the opportunity to meditate on God and spiritually prepare for my day, I automatically thought to myself, "I need to print this lead sheet and learn the song." (I am the keyboard player at my church.) This thought quickly turned into guilt for not having had prasie & worship rehearsal in several weeks, and soon I was stressed out, I had that feeling in my stomach of worry - the kind I get when a writing deadline is looming, and the words I'm staring at on the screen are not quite article quality. When I realized what I was doing to myself, I made a conscious effort to stop. It worked, in this instance. Most often, the matter is slightly more serious. Work-work, and writing-work have to get done at some point and I can't help but think about those tasks constantly when they are unfinished and incomplete.
Sadly, the past few "vacations" I've taken have either revolved around work, or I've had a writing deadline, meaning my laptop came along with me. A constant reminder that I could not completely unwind and relax. My trip to New Orleans was really for the purpose of researching my book, which is set in the Crescent City. A recent trip to Houston was to attend a conference hosted by the magazine for which I am a regular contributor. I enjoyed both of these trips and found time to do fun things, but nevertheless, I didn't get a "break" from everything, which is what is truly recuperative about a vacation.
My standard days are much the same. When I step from the shower and walk back into my bedroom to get ready, I turn cell phone, television and computer on, thus opening myself wide up for stress. I often work through lunch instead of being social. In the evenings, I won't allow myself to rest until I've done some writing and engaged in some form of exercise. I'm ashamed to admit this, but I've actually tried to pray while doing crunches.
Case in point, it's time I learn to relax and disconnect guilt free, and that means I don't have to multi-task 24 hours a day. It's alright to not be accomplishing something. This new initiative will commence tonight, during The Office.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Faith
Yesterday I wrote about fear, so today it seems fitting to write about its defeater, faith.
A terrible line of storms, stretching from Corpus Christi, Texas, into Kansas pushed its way east last night. Ordinarily, storms do not bother me. But, this one had the media in a tizzy and had produced at least on life-ending tornado by the time I went to bed. It didn't reach my neck of the Piney Woods until after midnight, but when it did, it was loud, fast, and fierce enough to send me running away from windows. The lights flickered, debris hit the roof, and a terrifying whistling filled the air. I paused, waiting for the house to begin shaking, anticipating my roof being ripped off above me.
As humans we fear. We have since it was introduced with sin in the Garden of Eden. I prayed before I went to bed last night, I prayed for protection from that very storm. How quickly I forgot, how easily I neglected my faith. I remembered it soon enough, though. When the initial scare was over, I relaxed and spoke the name of Jesus and was able to fall back to sleep, and when my alarm went off this morning, I instinctively said "thank you."
How lucky we are that God doesn't forget us. I forget that He has promised to provide for and protect me, but He's never once let me down.
When the challenges of my day start accumulating, and they always do, it is so simple to not only get frustrated, but to also show that frustration, thus potentially ruining an opportunity to witness. One such incident happened just this morning. I've had an issue with one person in particular for some time now and my buttons were pushed today. And for some reason, no doubt the prayer-answering God I serve, I remembered that they don't do it unto me, they do it unto Him. And, in the words of my Aunt Wilma, "God don't like ugly."
I've got no control over this person's actions. Sure, in my human profession I can exercise some power, but ultimately, it is in God's hands. I remembered this and relaxed. He's got it under control and I just need to focus on pleasing Him.
This experience today is special to me, in part because I've struggled on my walk as of late. My faith and convictions have been challenged over the past few weeks. But when God ever so subtly reminds me that He hears my prayers, that He is ever-present and willing to stand by me and strengthen me, worship swells in my soul. Isn't it amazing, humbling, wonderful, to know that no matter how far we stray, no matter how much we may change, God remains the same. Even when we are far, He is near. He is my rock.
A terrible line of storms, stretching from Corpus Christi, Texas, into Kansas pushed its way east last night. Ordinarily, storms do not bother me. But, this one had the media in a tizzy and had produced at least on life-ending tornado by the time I went to bed. It didn't reach my neck of the Piney Woods until after midnight, but when it did, it was loud, fast, and fierce enough to send me running away from windows. The lights flickered, debris hit the roof, and a terrifying whistling filled the air. I paused, waiting for the house to begin shaking, anticipating my roof being ripped off above me.
As humans we fear. We have since it was introduced with sin in the Garden of Eden. I prayed before I went to bed last night, I prayed for protection from that very storm. How quickly I forgot, how easily I neglected my faith. I remembered it soon enough, though. When the initial scare was over, I relaxed and spoke the name of Jesus and was able to fall back to sleep, and when my alarm went off this morning, I instinctively said "thank you."
How lucky we are that God doesn't forget us. I forget that He has promised to provide for and protect me, but He's never once let me down.
When the challenges of my day start accumulating, and they always do, it is so simple to not only get frustrated, but to also show that frustration, thus potentially ruining an opportunity to witness. One such incident happened just this morning. I've had an issue with one person in particular for some time now and my buttons were pushed today. And for some reason, no doubt the prayer-answering God I serve, I remembered that they don't do it unto me, they do it unto Him. And, in the words of my Aunt Wilma, "God don't like ugly."
I've got no control over this person's actions. Sure, in my human profession I can exercise some power, but ultimately, it is in God's hands. I remembered this and relaxed. He's got it under control and I just need to focus on pleasing Him.
This experience today is special to me, in part because I've struggled on my walk as of late. My faith and convictions have been challenged over the past few weeks. But when God ever so subtly reminds me that He hears my prayers, that He is ever-present and willing to stand by me and strengthen me, worship swells in my soul. Isn't it amazing, humbling, wonderful, to know that no matter how far we stray, no matter how much we may change, God remains the same. Even when we are far, He is near. He is my rock.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Fear
Okay, I have given myself a deadline of Thursday for submitting a query of the book to an agent. I am terrified. . .of rejection.
I sent a query to an agent last Spring, before the book was really even off the ground, and it was of course turned down, and I completley understand why. For one reason, the particular agent was one of the biggest names in the industry (it's a miracle he even accepts unsolicited queries). Another is, he was a secular agent and I now know this book belongs in the Christian market, as do I as its author. Then there's the fact that it just wasn't a good query. I didn't know where the story was going yet. I rushed things.
I remember the sentence "I'm going to pass" staring at me from my e-mail. It was a really terrible feeling and I really don't want to feel it for a second time. I worry I'm rushing the submission again, maybe I should keep working on it. However, if I don't give myself some sort of deadline, I won't ever do it. And, how will I ever know if the book is ready unless I put it out there? Still, the thought of it not being good enough for this agent scares me, and I'm not scared of much. Yes, there are other agents, but I really like this one. I have one chance. If the first sentence of my book doesn't wow her, she will stop reading and send me THAT sentence.
Several people have read the first two chapters, which is what I have to submit along with my pitch. They've all liked it and said it made them want to read the rest of the book. But, they're not the agent. Their paycheck and reputation is not at stake. I can't read it anymore because I'm no longer objective. I know I have to preserve my own voice and style, but I find myself comparing my first pages to Patricia Cornwell books to see if I cover the same elements up front. That's not healthy because there is already a Patricia Cornwell. I want the world to read Rachel Dawn Allen.
I sent a query to an agent last Spring, before the book was really even off the ground, and it was of course turned down, and I completley understand why. For one reason, the particular agent was one of the biggest names in the industry (it's a miracle he even accepts unsolicited queries). Another is, he was a secular agent and I now know this book belongs in the Christian market, as do I as its author. Then there's the fact that it just wasn't a good query. I didn't know where the story was going yet. I rushed things.
I remember the sentence "I'm going to pass" staring at me from my e-mail. It was a really terrible feeling and I really don't want to feel it for a second time. I worry I'm rushing the submission again, maybe I should keep working on it. However, if I don't give myself some sort of deadline, I won't ever do it. And, how will I ever know if the book is ready unless I put it out there? Still, the thought of it not being good enough for this agent scares me, and I'm not scared of much. Yes, there are other agents, but I really like this one. I have one chance. If the first sentence of my book doesn't wow her, she will stop reading and send me THAT sentence.
Several people have read the first two chapters, which is what I have to submit along with my pitch. They've all liked it and said it made them want to read the rest of the book. But, they're not the agent. Their paycheck and reputation is not at stake. I can't read it anymore because I'm no longer objective. I know I have to preserve my own voice and style, but I find myself comparing my first pages to Patricia Cornwell books to see if I cover the same elements up front. That's not healthy because there is already a Patricia Cornwell. I want the world to read Rachel Dawn Allen.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Monday, Monday
Holy cow! This day has already been insane. I miss the crisp, clearly defined seasons of the Northwest. Let me explain...I started my day on the assumption that this afternoon would be a sunny (dry) 69 degrees, and therefore straightened my hair. Then, what do I hear, the pitter patter of rain on the roof top. I put my hair in a clip - doesn't look good. I put my hair in a ponytail - also does not look good, and (here's where the Type A kicks in) slightly unprofessional, I think. Hair goes back down.
Meanwhile, I have an article due next week that I desperately needed to send out for fact checking this morning. So in between hairstyles, I was trying to upload the article and hunt down e-mail addresses for an architect, pastor and contractor.
On to the wardrobe malfunctions!! EVERY ITEM OF CLOTHING I PUT ON HAD SOMETHING WRONG WITH IT. It is now more than ten minutes past my standard departure time. I am never late. (Another Type A characteristic.)
In the car, driving to work. Get behind the slowest person ON the planet. Get to work 15v minutes late - after receiving at least one text message that a staff member was out sick, making this the 134th day in a row that we've had absenteeism in either our school or daycare (that's another post). (Yes, I like to use parentheses.)
Nevertheless, I am keeping a smile on my face because I never know who might be watching to see how I react. I love my life, challenges and all. I love the people I work with, even when they get sick. I am truly honored to fill the role that I do, so much that I cant' quite come up with the words to describe it. I'll work on that and tell you later.
Meanwhile, I have an article due next week that I desperately needed to send out for fact checking this morning. So in between hairstyles, I was trying to upload the article and hunt down e-mail addresses for an architect, pastor and contractor.
On to the wardrobe malfunctions!! EVERY ITEM OF CLOTHING I PUT ON HAD SOMETHING WRONG WITH IT. It is now more than ten minutes past my standard departure time. I am never late. (Another Type A characteristic.)
In the car, driving to work. Get behind the slowest person ON the planet. Get to work 15v minutes late - after receiving at least one text message that a staff member was out sick, making this the 134th day in a row that we've had absenteeism in either our school or daycare (that's another post). (Yes, I like to use parentheses.)
Nevertheless, I am keeping a smile on my face because I never know who might be watching to see how I react. I love my life, challenges and all. I love the people I work with, even when they get sick. I am truly honored to fill the role that I do, so much that I cant' quite come up with the words to describe it. I'll work on that and tell you later.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Hello again
The title of this post is also the title of a Shelley Long movie. If you haven't seen it, Netflix it immediately. Long chokes on a Chinese chicken ball and comes back to life, only to find a cheating husband. It's quite good, with just the sort of Seinfeld-like randomness I enjoy.
On to the matter at hand. It's been about 18 months since I last posted to this blog, and it's time I get started again. I have a completed novel saved on the very computer I write from today. This novel is the primary reason I haven't posted for a year and a half. I am planning to query agents about the book this week. It's been "finished" since before Christmas, but I have procrastinated because I fear rejection. I have been editing and editing, knowing perfection is what it will take to get it published, but I fear I will start picking it to death. So, to the hands of an agent it shall go and hopefully this person will fall in love with it and decide to represent me. However, all I've heard lately is how the publishing industry is tightening its belt and only accepting truly extraordinary work, therefore literary agents are becoming much more scrutinizing concerning the work they will take on. True to form, I am worried.
On to the matter at hand. It's been about 18 months since I last posted to this blog, and it's time I get started again. I have a completed novel saved on the very computer I write from today. This novel is the primary reason I haven't posted for a year and a half. I am planning to query agents about the book this week. It's been "finished" since before Christmas, but I have procrastinated because I fear rejection. I have been editing and editing, knowing perfection is what it will take to get it published, but I fear I will start picking it to death. So, to the hands of an agent it shall go and hopefully this person will fall in love with it and decide to represent me. However, all I've heard lately is how the publishing industry is tightening its belt and only accepting truly extraordinary work, therefore literary agents are becoming much more scrutinizing concerning the work they will take on. True to form, I am worried.
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