Oh wow, I haven't posted in almost two weeks. Well, that's not true, I actually posted something on Tuesday, but took it off two minutes later. I'll revise it and re-post it at a later date - time-sensitive material of a sort.
All I can say is the past two weeks have been INSANE. If you think running a school and dealing with teenagers, Kindergartners, staff, and an occasional daycare issue is challenging - you're right. Now throw on top of it a budding writing career and you've got the recipe for a nervous breakdown. But, I didn't have one, not even close, there have been a few OMG moments, but for the most part, things haven't been bad, just challenging. I like a challenge. I'd rather be running around like a headless chicken and busy with the work of the Lord than sitting around, idle and bored, with time to get into trouble. It is a pleasure to use the mind God blessed me with!
Some things clicked for me this week. I find myself earnestly desiring to wade through the muck and mire people allow to build up around them. I desire to do this because maybe I can teach them something, maybe I can make a difference. There are people in my life that I do not enjoy dealing with, but finally this week, an answer to prayer no doubt, I've just decided that my preferences really don't matter. I've just got to keep a smile on my face and put up with them and show love, kindness, patience, and all those other good things - not because I have to, but because I want to. I want to see a change happen in that person. I want that person to be successful. I want that person's future to be different. I want them to grow up and pay it forward.
What do I get out of this? God will show me His glory, His abilities, His power. He can do anything, heal anyone, deliver anyone, and if you've never experienced God's glory, never had those chills race up your back when His presence sweeps into a room, you're missing out.
There are many things in this life that I enjoy, that make me laugh, that I get excited over, but none of them compare to the feeling I get when I know God just took care of business. When He does something to remind us all down here that He is the B.O.S.S. He healed my grandmother of "terminal" ovarian cancer 18 years ago; He healed my aunt of breast cancer two years ago; He has provided for me in every way for two years following a substantial pay cut because I've followed His leading on my life; when my vehicle spun out of control and there was nothing for me to do but cry out "Jesus", He heard me, and my car came to a safe stop; He kept a dear friend and now family member safe during two tours of duty in Iraq; When I'm out of answers and options, He listens, He watches over me and gives me the measure of peace I need to rest, and the next morning, it's always better. These are just a few examples that came to mind just now, but He does it every day, I pray every day, so ultimately, only He knows what He's kept me from, only He knows what He's done for me and my loved ones, and only He knows what my continued faith will make possible for the future.
I can do nothing without Him, but I can do anything with Him.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Welcome to my (now) political blog
As a child, I lived in constant fear of going to jail. This was no doubt the result of an adult in my life bending the truth somewhat to insure the Barbie or Bubble-Yum lust in my eyes did not manifest itself in the form of elementary shoplifting. Then, I saw Aladdin, and my fear of jail was shadowed by the fear of losing one of my hands. I learned early not to steal.
Early in the week, almost certainly out of anger with the teenage specimen's whose education I am responsible for, I jotted down some random thoughts that I intended to turn into a blog later in the day. The blog never came to fruition. It's probably a good thing, because this blog would have been a tie-dyed mixture of anger and loosely, wildly connected causes and effects. One sentence I wrote blames a certain Vietnam-era celebrity and her bra-burning for my students' inability to meet a deadline. Oh yes, I did find a way to connect the two in my mind, but if I ever want to be considered a serious, and sane, writer, it's best I save that one for the winter of my writing career when it is acceptable to be crazy and spout off unfounded theories. Oh, why don’t I just live a little? If Michael Moore can get away with it . . .
I believe we are witnessing the degeneration of our society's work ethic. I believe it will be extinct in another generation, or at least endangered. Initiative? Personal responsibility? Hard work? These, not spotted owls, deserve Hollywood's charity balls, and prime real estate on the front pages of America’s newspapers. Fostering these traits in our young people, instilling them in the ones that will lead our nation (what's left of it) should be ousting the left’s insatiable thirst for social programs. However, this is one more area the government has no business sticking its bureaucratic-booger infested nose into. It's a job that should be done by the parents, and somewhere along the way there's been a breakdown . . . one exponentially multiplied by the government’s empowering of citizens to be lazy and desecrate the vision and values of our founding fathers. Our Christian founding fathers, no less.
I am not an expert on child development and I do not have any experience in sociology other than a freshman course, which oddly, probably qualifies me to make this assumption more so than if I had a Ph.D. behind my name (depending on the university). Minimally, three generations of Americans have been raised largely without physical discipline and with both parents working, if they even had two. They’ve been allowed to talk back, allowed to be lazy, and have been handed a weekly allowance and keys to a vehicle after doing very little to deserve either. In our public schools, they have been pushed along, nursed with dumbed-down, propaganda-infested material. When they misbehave or fail to meet standards, often the teacher’s hands are tied. Research shows that children’s intelligence actually decreases the longer they stay in our public schools.
I present to you the group that elected our president! They want fetuses aborted and serial rapists and murderers spared from the needle. They want illegal immigrants to have education and health care while hard-working American men and women avoid preventive exams and take out loans to pay for their children’s college tuition, thanks to inflated taxes. Come to America! It’s the land of opportunity! Unless, you are in fact, an American.
The upcoming workforce (I use that term loosely) and voting class has been taught that it's okay to do wrong, that they're not hurting anything or anybody, that it's some other person's fault and never their own. Thousands and hundreds of thousands, even millions, of people have been taught to be irresponsible by ma and pa government, elected officials even. While drunk, I drove a car off a bridge and left my passenger to drown, but I'm me, so it doesn't count. Who am I? (I’ll let you do the research on this one yourself – it’ll be good for you.)
As I said earlier, I learned stealing was wrong at an early age. . .until, an adult in my life (not one of my parents) witnessed me breaking an item in a store and hurriedly ushered me away from the evidence and out to the car. (Breaking something and not paying for it is still stealing – don’t want anybody to get confused.) That moment stands out in my memory. I was scared, I was sure I was going to jail. I didn't. That one example of escape did not enable me to become a hardened criminal with lose morals. Fortunately, I was raised in a Christian home where there were consequences for my actions and where right and wrong were taught as black and white. One event was unable to undo actual parent involvement and good upbringing. What about all the people that didn’t have that? Thanks to policy being signed as I write this, they will look to the government for everything, including moral example. Consequences? What are those?
So, with the moral, ahem, deficiencies present today, how are those that have had no teaching going to lead, and lead us well? How do they know the policy being put in place is wrong, wrong, wrong, and destructive, destructive, destructive? They’ve never had to sacrifice to keep this country free, never crawled under their desks for bomb drills, they have never had to really fear what the soldiers of another nation could do to them (obviously our armed forces are excluded from this remark). Neither have I, but I do have a moral backbone, and I do read (despite going to public schools), enough to know that the reason I’ve never had to endure those things and fear those things is because we’ve always had a somewhat competent leader at the helm. I’ll even throw Bill Clinton into that pool, but let’s face it – George W. Bush is what kept us safe after 9/11. In fact, he kept us so safe, the great majority of our nation has forgotten we need to fund national defense.
These truths are evident in many, if not all, of the challenges facing our nation right now. And, the worst part is, the people drinking the government's Kool-Aid are being set up for a catastrophic let down. This won't last. Irresponsibility NEVER leads to prosperity. Unless of course, you're on Welfare.
On an online community I sometimes visit, I read a person's comments about Europeans and how their lives are so blissful. How the greed so prevalent in America isn't present there and there is no rat race. I quote: "The people there live on and with so little."
That's because they don't have a CHOICE!! Their wealth is redistributed to the masses!!
Some day soon, that person may have the chance to live just like the people he envies on The Continent. There’s a chance it might not happen in our lifetime, but I think the footers are in place and the slab is about to be poured. Maybe, if there was time to undo decades of poor child-rearing and ethical decay, my generation or the one after me could do something about the walls being raised.
Early in the week, almost certainly out of anger with the teenage specimen's whose education I am responsible for, I jotted down some random thoughts that I intended to turn into a blog later in the day. The blog never came to fruition. It's probably a good thing, because this blog would have been a tie-dyed mixture of anger and loosely, wildly connected causes and effects. One sentence I wrote blames a certain Vietnam-era celebrity and her bra-burning for my students' inability to meet a deadline. Oh yes, I did find a way to connect the two in my mind, but if I ever want to be considered a serious, and sane, writer, it's best I save that one for the winter of my writing career when it is acceptable to be crazy and spout off unfounded theories. Oh, why don’t I just live a little? If Michael Moore can get away with it . . .
I believe we are witnessing the degeneration of our society's work ethic. I believe it will be extinct in another generation, or at least endangered. Initiative? Personal responsibility? Hard work? These, not spotted owls, deserve Hollywood's charity balls, and prime real estate on the front pages of America’s newspapers. Fostering these traits in our young people, instilling them in the ones that will lead our nation (what's left of it) should be ousting the left’s insatiable thirst for social programs. However, this is one more area the government has no business sticking its bureaucratic-booger infested nose into. It's a job that should be done by the parents, and somewhere along the way there's been a breakdown . . . one exponentially multiplied by the government’s empowering of citizens to be lazy and desecrate the vision and values of our founding fathers. Our Christian founding fathers, no less.
I am not an expert on child development and I do not have any experience in sociology other than a freshman course, which oddly, probably qualifies me to make this assumption more so than if I had a Ph.D. behind my name (depending on the university). Minimally, three generations of Americans have been raised largely without physical discipline and with both parents working, if they even had two. They’ve been allowed to talk back, allowed to be lazy, and have been handed a weekly allowance and keys to a vehicle after doing very little to deserve either. In our public schools, they have been pushed along, nursed with dumbed-down, propaganda-infested material. When they misbehave or fail to meet standards, often the teacher’s hands are tied. Research shows that children’s intelligence actually decreases the longer they stay in our public schools.
I present to you the group that elected our president! They want fetuses aborted and serial rapists and murderers spared from the needle. They want illegal immigrants to have education and health care while hard-working American men and women avoid preventive exams and take out loans to pay for their children’s college tuition, thanks to inflated taxes. Come to America! It’s the land of opportunity! Unless, you are in fact, an American.
The upcoming workforce (I use that term loosely) and voting class has been taught that it's okay to do wrong, that they're not hurting anything or anybody, that it's some other person's fault and never their own. Thousands and hundreds of thousands, even millions, of people have been taught to be irresponsible by ma and pa government, elected officials even. While drunk, I drove a car off a bridge and left my passenger to drown, but I'm me, so it doesn't count. Who am I? (I’ll let you do the research on this one yourself – it’ll be good for you.)
As I said earlier, I learned stealing was wrong at an early age. . .until, an adult in my life (not one of my parents) witnessed me breaking an item in a store and hurriedly ushered me away from the evidence and out to the car. (Breaking something and not paying for it is still stealing – don’t want anybody to get confused.) That moment stands out in my memory. I was scared, I was sure I was going to jail. I didn't. That one example of escape did not enable me to become a hardened criminal with lose morals. Fortunately, I was raised in a Christian home where there were consequences for my actions and where right and wrong were taught as black and white. One event was unable to undo actual parent involvement and good upbringing. What about all the people that didn’t have that? Thanks to policy being signed as I write this, they will look to the government for everything, including moral example. Consequences? What are those?
So, with the moral, ahem, deficiencies present today, how are those that have had no teaching going to lead, and lead us well? How do they know the policy being put in place is wrong, wrong, wrong, and destructive, destructive, destructive? They’ve never had to sacrifice to keep this country free, never crawled under their desks for bomb drills, they have never had to really fear what the soldiers of another nation could do to them (obviously our armed forces are excluded from this remark). Neither have I, but I do have a moral backbone, and I do read (despite going to public schools), enough to know that the reason I’ve never had to endure those things and fear those things is because we’ve always had a somewhat competent leader at the helm. I’ll even throw Bill Clinton into that pool, but let’s face it – George W. Bush is what kept us safe after 9/11. In fact, he kept us so safe, the great majority of our nation has forgotten we need to fund national defense.
These truths are evident in many, if not all, of the challenges facing our nation right now. And, the worst part is, the people drinking the government's Kool-Aid are being set up for a catastrophic let down. This won't last. Irresponsibility NEVER leads to prosperity. Unless of course, you're on Welfare.
On an online community I sometimes visit, I read a person's comments about Europeans and how their lives are so blissful. How the greed so prevalent in America isn't present there and there is no rat race. I quote: "The people there live on and with so little."
That's because they don't have a CHOICE!! Their wealth is redistributed to the masses!!
Some day soon, that person may have the chance to live just like the people he envies on The Continent. There’s a chance it might not happen in our lifetime, but I think the footers are in place and the slab is about to be poured. Maybe, if there was time to undo decades of poor child-rearing and ethical decay, my generation or the one after me could do something about the walls being raised.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
A country-fied city mouse
We forget the negative when we've been away from a place, a person, a situation. Time heals and absence makes the heart grow fonder. I've lived in rural East Texas for almost six years, and most days I find reasons to dislike it and pine away for the big city, any city. It's amazing to me that one region can be so completely devoid of culture, food, and size 2 garments. I am constantly frustrated and preoccupied with what my locale doesn't offer that I often forget to sit back and think about what I love, and why, ultimately, I really am happy. If I wasn't, I would have found a way to leave by now.
I recently finished a Nicholas Sparks book about a man who leaves his fast-paced Manhattan life for love, moving to a no-name North Carolina town. A loft apartment overlooking the city is traded for a rented room full of taxidermy. The apex of all things literary and culinary, walks in Central Park, the excitement and tension of New York streets, is exchanged for a local diner and a sad local paper. As I read the first chapters, even before the character's desolation was revealed, I felt it. I live there. In the end, the character comes to love his new home. He is even given the chance to return to Manhattan and passes it up, choosing the slow and simple saunter of southern life.
Driving home tonight, passing wooded areas and pastures made lush and green by days and days of East Texas rain, I had a flashback to my teen years, when I started driving. I grew up in Boise, Idaho, a fairly good-sized city. Not a New York, not a Chicago, not a Houston or Dallas, but big enough. Beautiful. Varied opportunities for experiencing culture, museums, street markets, shopping, entertainment, food, food, food, and recreation everywhere - skiing, river sports, hiking, biking. . .a wonderful, wonderful town. And I remembered on my peaceful drive home tonight, the traffic. As a young driver, the back-ups on well-traveled roads infuriated me. Granted I was young, extremely immature, and had no semblance of a walk with God. All the same, I didn't like the traffic.
Toward the end of my 19-year stay in the Northwest, I became disgusted with the mentality of the people, who grew more and more. . .I won't go into detail, but my political views are no longer the norm in that part of the country. In fact, looking back, it appears that God was dropping hints, setting it all up, making it miraculously easy for me to leave my childhood home, my friends of a decade or more, my golden college experience. Everything I sometimes long for now, was mine, and I had grown sick of it. It no longer mattered, I wanted John Deere Green, cowboy hats, belts with big buckles and names on the back, magnolia trees, chicken fried steak, okra, banana pudding, and Blue Bell on the front porch. I wanted to drive from my house to the post office and back and know what 80 percent of my family and friends were doing and where they were at. I wanted to find love and raise children within 15 miles of the final resting places of my great-great grandparents.
Humans are fickle. We are forever dreaming of the green, green grass that's in our line of sight, but out of our reach. Then, it seems when we finally have a moist, muddy handful of it, we want to throw it down and wipe our hands.
I often wonder what I would miss about East Texas if I were suddenly transplanted into a metropolitan area. There's no way to know for sure, however, I am confident the layered sounds of crickets, frogs, and distant birds all painted onto a background of tranquil silence would be missed when I attempted to sleep among busy city streets. In the spring, the wafting fragrance of wisteria, in the summer, the first aromas of barbecue, when those were replaced with the smells of culinary choice on a busy downtown street mixed with exhaust, I would miss my lakeside home. And, at the end of a day spent in a building built tall as a monument to mind-numbing, soul-sucking commerce, I am confident I would long for the days that my only charge was to please God, to find a way to plant one more seed, and then wait for HIM to give the increase.
I recently finished a Nicholas Sparks book about a man who leaves his fast-paced Manhattan life for love, moving to a no-name North Carolina town. A loft apartment overlooking the city is traded for a rented room full of taxidermy. The apex of all things literary and culinary, walks in Central Park, the excitement and tension of New York streets, is exchanged for a local diner and a sad local paper. As I read the first chapters, even before the character's desolation was revealed, I felt it. I live there. In the end, the character comes to love his new home. He is even given the chance to return to Manhattan and passes it up, choosing the slow and simple saunter of southern life.
Driving home tonight, passing wooded areas and pastures made lush and green by days and days of East Texas rain, I had a flashback to my teen years, when I started driving. I grew up in Boise, Idaho, a fairly good-sized city. Not a New York, not a Chicago, not a Houston or Dallas, but big enough. Beautiful. Varied opportunities for experiencing culture, museums, street markets, shopping, entertainment, food, food, food, and recreation everywhere - skiing, river sports, hiking, biking. . .a wonderful, wonderful town. And I remembered on my peaceful drive home tonight, the traffic. As a young driver, the back-ups on well-traveled roads infuriated me. Granted I was young, extremely immature, and had no semblance of a walk with God. All the same, I didn't like the traffic.
Toward the end of my 19-year stay in the Northwest, I became disgusted with the mentality of the people, who grew more and more. . .I won't go into detail, but my political views are no longer the norm in that part of the country. In fact, looking back, it appears that God was dropping hints, setting it all up, making it miraculously easy for me to leave my childhood home, my friends of a decade or more, my golden college experience. Everything I sometimes long for now, was mine, and I had grown sick of it. It no longer mattered, I wanted John Deere Green, cowboy hats, belts with big buckles and names on the back, magnolia trees, chicken fried steak, okra, banana pudding, and Blue Bell on the front porch. I wanted to drive from my house to the post office and back and know what 80 percent of my family and friends were doing and where they were at. I wanted to find love and raise children within 15 miles of the final resting places of my great-great grandparents.
Humans are fickle. We are forever dreaming of the green, green grass that's in our line of sight, but out of our reach. Then, it seems when we finally have a moist, muddy handful of it, we want to throw it down and wipe our hands.
I often wonder what I would miss about East Texas if I were suddenly transplanted into a metropolitan area. There's no way to know for sure, however, I am confident the layered sounds of crickets, frogs, and distant birds all painted onto a background of tranquil silence would be missed when I attempted to sleep among busy city streets. In the spring, the wafting fragrance of wisteria, in the summer, the first aromas of barbecue, when those were replaced with the smells of culinary choice on a busy downtown street mixed with exhaust, I would miss my lakeside home. And, at the end of a day spent in a building built tall as a monument to mind-numbing, soul-sucking commerce, I am confident I would long for the days that my only charge was to please God, to find a way to plant one more seed, and then wait for HIM to give the increase.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
On leadership
This blog is not political, although I am a very political person. However, I recently witnessed a prominent politician (who shall remain nameless) display a ridiculously defensive attitude. And, it made me worry, more than I usually do, about the people in charge of our nation and by default, my future.
I've learned (read: try to remember) to compare the situations of others to my own before passing any kind of judgment, not that I should be passing judgment at all, but I am human, nonetheless. Being in a position of authority, at any level, opens a person up to ridicule and makes them the target of the finger of blame. That's just the way it is, leadership is a mixed blessing. I learn this more and more every day in my own life. The one in charge is most often seen as the bad guy, the fun hater, and when those they oversee spin out of control, it is most often the leader that actually slides off the cliff. Unfortunately, these incoming opinions are often transferred and become a part of the leader's opinion of themselves. I can see how that could make a person defensive, but I also know from personal experience that a defensive attitude usually comes from a lack of confidence in either the decisions one has made or one's ability to perform the job.
Needless to say, when I saw this trait in this politician, it made me fearful because it illustrated that this person is not confident in their decisions, is not pleased with the job their currently doing, and does not trust in their own ability to do a better job in the future. Disturbing.
Still, comparing their situation to my own, I tried to think of what I would do. It's taken much time for me to learn to do this, and I sometimes still forget, but in most cases I step back, evaluate, and then ask for help. The latter is a huge shot to the ego for some, it used to be for me. Why do we feel there is shame in asking for and getting help when the hand we're dealt gets to be too much?
Strangely enough, leaders who have asked for help have gone down in history as heroes. For instance, Winston Churchill asked for the help of the U.S. in WWII (although it took much coaxing before FDR agreed), the result was victory over an evil man and the salvation of millions. I give you Winston Churchill - household name.
Eventually, even the wisest leaders screw up. In fact, it's safe to assume that leaders do not approach wisdom until they've fallen down in the mud a few times. When mistakes are made, the best we can do is learn from them. It doesn't make the sickening swell you feel in your stomach go away any sooner, and it is often hard to fight the urge to punch people in the face when they tell you to "learn from it", however, it is the best advice, and the only way to turn a negative into a positive.
Don't trust someone who is afraid to be wrong, or hasn't made any mistakes. Because we've all made mistakes. It's impossible not to and people who claim they've made none - have. They just refuse to take responsibility for them.
I've learned (read: try to remember) to compare the situations of others to my own before passing any kind of judgment, not that I should be passing judgment at all, but I am human, nonetheless. Being in a position of authority, at any level, opens a person up to ridicule and makes them the target of the finger of blame. That's just the way it is, leadership is a mixed blessing. I learn this more and more every day in my own life. The one in charge is most often seen as the bad guy, the fun hater, and when those they oversee spin out of control, it is most often the leader that actually slides off the cliff. Unfortunately, these incoming opinions are often transferred and become a part of the leader's opinion of themselves. I can see how that could make a person defensive, but I also know from personal experience that a defensive attitude usually comes from a lack of confidence in either the decisions one has made or one's ability to perform the job.
Needless to say, when I saw this trait in this politician, it made me fearful because it illustrated that this person is not confident in their decisions, is not pleased with the job their currently doing, and does not trust in their own ability to do a better job in the future. Disturbing.
Still, comparing their situation to my own, I tried to think of what I would do. It's taken much time for me to learn to do this, and I sometimes still forget, but in most cases I step back, evaluate, and then ask for help. The latter is a huge shot to the ego for some, it used to be for me. Why do we feel there is shame in asking for and getting help when the hand we're dealt gets to be too much?
Strangely enough, leaders who have asked for help have gone down in history as heroes. For instance, Winston Churchill asked for the help of the U.S. in WWII (although it took much coaxing before FDR agreed), the result was victory over an evil man and the salvation of millions. I give you Winston Churchill - household name.
Eventually, even the wisest leaders screw up. In fact, it's safe to assume that leaders do not approach wisdom until they've fallen down in the mud a few times. When mistakes are made, the best we can do is learn from them. It doesn't make the sickening swell you feel in your stomach go away any sooner, and it is often hard to fight the urge to punch people in the face when they tell you to "learn from it", however, it is the best advice, and the only way to turn a negative into a positive.
Don't trust someone who is afraid to be wrong, or hasn't made any mistakes. Because we've all made mistakes. It's impossible not to and people who claim they've made none - have. They just refuse to take responsibility for them.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Mail Issues
I miss getting mail. Real, hold it in your hands mail, and e-mail. . .legitimate e-mail. Now, in the gloomy shadow of a cancelled trip, I need the pick-me-ups of everyday life even more than usual. When you have something really huge and exciting to look forward to, and then it’s not there anymore, (even when it’s by your own action. . .or inaction, nonetheless) your normal life loses some of its luster. That’s why I need my mail. Mail holds such possibility.
I have a Blackberry synced with my personal e-mail and every time it buzzes, my heart leaps a little. What kind of news is it? I can’t tell you with any certainty what I’m hoping it might be, I just want it to be something. Okay, yes I can, I want it to be an agent writing to tell me she’ll represent my book, or better yet, that she’s already got a publisher waiting for someone with just my tone and she’s faxing over a 10-book contract with a $50,000 advance.
Oddly enough, it’s usually some hacked to death attempt at English telling me I’m the sole benefactress of an Ethiopian ivory fortune. I am well rehearsed in the deletion process. Spam mail is such a let down. The people responsible for spam mail should get bonuses for the fits of temporary depression they bring on. Not only are they phishing for identities and breaking down secure servers, they’re also playing on the emotions of poor freelance writers hoping for book deals. I can only assume they’re conspiring with pharmaceutical companies and other entities involved in the creation and distribution of drugs like Xanax, Wellbutrin, and Paxil. I think Little Debbie, and maybe Blue Bell, are also involved as my personal consumption of their products has increased three-fold since Sunday evening last.
On the USPS front, I’m only getting bills, small white envelopes symbolic of balls and chains. Reminders of responsibility and mistakes. This is one area that I am expecting something of value, I am a writer that gets paid, so every now and then my lust for mail is positively reinforced in the form of monetary gain. I could use some of that monetary gain about now.
To twist the knife ever so slightly, I did get a Membership Reward postcard from American Express today inviting me to redeem points for a fabulous stay in. . .where else. . .Paris!!!
For the record, as I seem bitter, I stand by the decision I made not to travel last week. It was not the right time, I know the difference between lack of peace and fear, and what I felt was an absence of peace. However, I am very disappointed that it didn’t work out, that I wasn’t able to do it, and for that matter, that I hitched my wagon to such a far away (literally) star. I really, REALLY needed a vacation, a disconnect, which I could have accomplished much closer to home. Or perhaps, that would have been scratched, too. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. I try not to question it too much, it’s best to just trust and wait for the perfect opportunity.
While I'm waiting, maybe I'll do some internet shopping where I can get some really exciting mail. New shoes, handbag, a red patent leather belt (basic item, yes, yet impossible to find). However, this will no doubt lead to the continued delivery of the aforementioned bills. Vicious cycle.
I have a Blackberry synced with my personal e-mail and every time it buzzes, my heart leaps a little. What kind of news is it? I can’t tell you with any certainty what I’m hoping it might be, I just want it to be something. Okay, yes I can, I want it to be an agent writing to tell me she’ll represent my book, or better yet, that she’s already got a publisher waiting for someone with just my tone and she’s faxing over a 10-book contract with a $50,000 advance.
Oddly enough, it’s usually some hacked to death attempt at English telling me I’m the sole benefactress of an Ethiopian ivory fortune. I am well rehearsed in the deletion process. Spam mail is such a let down. The people responsible for spam mail should get bonuses for the fits of temporary depression they bring on. Not only are they phishing for identities and breaking down secure servers, they’re also playing on the emotions of poor freelance writers hoping for book deals. I can only assume they’re conspiring with pharmaceutical companies and other entities involved in the creation and distribution of drugs like Xanax, Wellbutrin, and Paxil. I think Little Debbie, and maybe Blue Bell, are also involved as my personal consumption of their products has increased three-fold since Sunday evening last.
On the USPS front, I’m only getting bills, small white envelopes symbolic of balls and chains. Reminders of responsibility and mistakes. This is one area that I am expecting something of value, I am a writer that gets paid, so every now and then my lust for mail is positively reinforced in the form of monetary gain. I could use some of that monetary gain about now.
To twist the knife ever so slightly, I did get a Membership Reward postcard from American Express today inviting me to redeem points for a fabulous stay in. . .where else. . .Paris!!!
For the record, as I seem bitter, I stand by the decision I made not to travel last week. It was not the right time, I know the difference between lack of peace and fear, and what I felt was an absence of peace. However, I am very disappointed that it didn’t work out, that I wasn’t able to do it, and for that matter, that I hitched my wagon to such a far away (literally) star. I really, REALLY needed a vacation, a disconnect, which I could have accomplished much closer to home. Or perhaps, that would have been scratched, too. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. I try not to question it too much, it’s best to just trust and wait for the perfect opportunity.
While I'm waiting, maybe I'll do some internet shopping where I can get some really exciting mail. New shoes, handbag, a red patent leather belt (basic item, yes, yet impossible to find). However, this will no doubt lead to the continued delivery of the aforementioned bills. Vicious cycle.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I'm back...from the airport
If you’ve read my blog at all the past few weeks, you know that I booked a trip to Paris, France, for Spring Break. If you read this blog Friday, you know that I was supposed to have left on said trip yesterday. And, if you’re reading this blog now, you know that I am in fact in the United States, and you are probably wondering why. So am I.
That’s not entirely true. I know why. I couldn’t get on the plane. For a long time, I have been living under the idea that I am a worldly, independent type, destined to see and explore every crevice of the earth. Turns out, that’s not who I am at all.
Nearly every source of my earthly joy is in a 30-square-mile radius and I am a very content person, a trip overseas was not going to add anything. Well, it might have and I know there wouldn’t have been anything wrong with me going, in theory. But, I couldn’t do it. I made it all the way to the airport and was within 90 minutes of taking off and I could NOT do it. Many people reading this probably think I’m a complete fool for not going, especially if you know me and have heard me rant and rave about wanting to travel and about this trip in particular. However, none of you were inside my head at the critical moment. None of you felt the lack of peace. None of you have to look at the credit card statement.
This is a lesson learned, that’s how I view it. God can use any means He chooses to teach us, to mold us. And, He may very well have used this to teach me, to show me, exactly what my life is supposed to be, what it is supposed to be about.
If I were in Paris right now, I would be one of several places. I could be touring Notre Dame, I could be on a bus familiarizing myself with the city, I could be exploring the Quartier Latin, or I could be crumpled on the bed in my hotel room in tears wishing I could go home. Although it seems preposterous, I could still be wandering through Charles de Gaulle looking for my baggage and/or shuttle driver, or there’s a small chance I could be stranded in Amsterdam. The crumpled on the bed is probably very likely. I am a strong person, but the people God has blessed me with are what make me strong. I am not brave, not on my own. If I have someone else to lead, guide or protect, I’m there, I’m on it, the responsibility drives me. Conversely, when it’s just me, I fall apart. I am a social being. Sure, I enjoy the occasional afternoon or evening of solitude, but for the most part I like having people with me, I like having someone to share with. When I am away from home, even on short trips, I always want the people I care about most with me. Especially my sister. A few months ago in Houston I walked through the Galleria wishing she was with me. That’s probably why I bought her the overpriced dinosaur t-shirt from Urban Outfitters.
My aunt told me last night: “You can do anything you put your mind to.” That’s true, but everything I’ve accomplished in my short life has been possible because of the support and love that’s always been present. Not one of my family members or friends told me not to go on the trip, but once I decided against it, nearly every one of them told me they were relieved. They hadn’t been comfortable with me going by myself, but they weren’t going to stop me because they knew it was something I had desired to do for such a long time.
I lost my peace and excitement over the trip more than a week ago. I woke in the night in a sweat and pulled out the travel documents ready to cancel. I didn’t, but I never felt much but anxiety from that point on. I prayed and prayed and prayed some more, only to get short periods of peace. Those brief instances were always quickly dashed away. What does that mean? I have no idea, and I probably never will. It was probably pre-trip jitters that even seasoned international travelers experience. Mine took many forms. Ultimately, the hurdle in the forefront yesterday was the flight. I woke this morning and turned on the news to discover that there were no plane crashes. I would have arrived safely. Everything other than that will probably forever remain a mystery.
Lessons learned:
**Nothing in haste – I thought booking this impulsively, as opposed to having seven months to wait like last time (oh yes, I cancelled a trip a few months ago, check the archives) would be good for me.
**Know my limits – solo travel is not something I can do, not that great a distance.
**Pay attention to past experiences – New York and Houston, when the former ended and the latter commenced, I knew I didn’t really like being away from home. I’m an east Texas girl. I’ve thought for a long time that I’m not, but I am. It’s a simple life, not that glamorous, not that exciting, but that’s the hand I’ve been dealt and I am grateful for everyone and everything that I have.
**Praise Him in tribulation – thank you God for a family and friends that are supportive of my decisions and of me, no matter how foolish. Thank you for forgiveness, provision, and a plan.
That’s not entirely true. I know why. I couldn’t get on the plane. For a long time, I have been living under the idea that I am a worldly, independent type, destined to see and explore every crevice of the earth. Turns out, that’s not who I am at all.
Nearly every source of my earthly joy is in a 30-square-mile radius and I am a very content person, a trip overseas was not going to add anything. Well, it might have and I know there wouldn’t have been anything wrong with me going, in theory. But, I couldn’t do it. I made it all the way to the airport and was within 90 minutes of taking off and I could NOT do it. Many people reading this probably think I’m a complete fool for not going, especially if you know me and have heard me rant and rave about wanting to travel and about this trip in particular. However, none of you were inside my head at the critical moment. None of you felt the lack of peace. None of you have to look at the credit card statement.
This is a lesson learned, that’s how I view it. God can use any means He chooses to teach us, to mold us. And, He may very well have used this to teach me, to show me, exactly what my life is supposed to be, what it is supposed to be about.
If I were in Paris right now, I would be one of several places. I could be touring Notre Dame, I could be on a bus familiarizing myself with the city, I could be exploring the Quartier Latin, or I could be crumpled on the bed in my hotel room in tears wishing I could go home. Although it seems preposterous, I could still be wandering through Charles de Gaulle looking for my baggage and/or shuttle driver, or there’s a small chance I could be stranded in Amsterdam. The crumpled on the bed is probably very likely. I am a strong person, but the people God has blessed me with are what make me strong. I am not brave, not on my own. If I have someone else to lead, guide or protect, I’m there, I’m on it, the responsibility drives me. Conversely, when it’s just me, I fall apart. I am a social being. Sure, I enjoy the occasional afternoon or evening of solitude, but for the most part I like having people with me, I like having someone to share with. When I am away from home, even on short trips, I always want the people I care about most with me. Especially my sister. A few months ago in Houston I walked through the Galleria wishing she was with me. That’s probably why I bought her the overpriced dinosaur t-shirt from Urban Outfitters.
My aunt told me last night: “You can do anything you put your mind to.” That’s true, but everything I’ve accomplished in my short life has been possible because of the support and love that’s always been present. Not one of my family members or friends told me not to go on the trip, but once I decided against it, nearly every one of them told me they were relieved. They hadn’t been comfortable with me going by myself, but they weren’t going to stop me because they knew it was something I had desired to do for such a long time.
I lost my peace and excitement over the trip more than a week ago. I woke in the night in a sweat and pulled out the travel documents ready to cancel. I didn’t, but I never felt much but anxiety from that point on. I prayed and prayed and prayed some more, only to get short periods of peace. Those brief instances were always quickly dashed away. What does that mean? I have no idea, and I probably never will. It was probably pre-trip jitters that even seasoned international travelers experience. Mine took many forms. Ultimately, the hurdle in the forefront yesterday was the flight. I woke this morning and turned on the news to discover that there were no plane crashes. I would have arrived safely. Everything other than that will probably forever remain a mystery.
Lessons learned:
**Nothing in haste – I thought booking this impulsively, as opposed to having seven months to wait like last time (oh yes, I cancelled a trip a few months ago, check the archives) would be good for me.
**Know my limits – solo travel is not something I can do, not that great a distance.
**Pay attention to past experiences – New York and Houston, when the former ended and the latter commenced, I knew I didn’t really like being away from home. I’m an east Texas girl. I’ve thought for a long time that I’m not, but I am. It’s a simple life, not that glamorous, not that exciting, but that’s the hand I’ve been dealt and I am grateful for everyone and everything that I have.
**Praise Him in tribulation – thank you God for a family and friends that are supportive of my decisions and of me, no matter how foolish. Thank you for forgiveness, provision, and a plan.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Random Tid Bits
It's Spring Break. My students left about 45 minutes ago, and I am leaving on Sunday for Paris. I think this calls for a laid-back sort of blog, not that all of my blogs are profound tomes of wisdom, but this one is going to be really relaxed. I'm just going to mention two very random things that have happened to me and a person close to me as of late.
1. My cousin, who lives in California with her Marine husband, recently had 12 pairs of underwear jacked from a laundromat. Who steals underwear? Yuck. (I mean this as a general comment, my cousin practices very good personal hygiene...awkward.) I'm a germophobe, so I have a bias, but I think most people should have some sort of mechanism in their brains that tells them it's not okay to, number one steal, but also wear a stranger's undergarments. I get the heebee-jeebees when I see slips at a Good Will. It ain’t right. The heartbreaking part is, her underwear was Victoria's Secret, and at a minimum cost of $8 a pair, that's at least $100 worth of panties gone in the night. Horrible, and...random.
2. Last night my sweet tooth got to aching and there was nothing in the house. We do that on purpose. However, I did find some chocolate chips, toffee bits, and chopped pecans. I mixed them together in a bowl and ate the concoction with a spoon. Don't judge me!! Now, that in itself is random, but, there's more. After this act of desperation, I of course needed to brush my teeth because one without dental insurance does not go to sleep with toffee stuck to one's teeth. I brushed well and set my toothbrush back in the thing that holds my toothbrush (I don't know what else to call it). It bounced out, slid off the counter (as almost everything in my bathroom has done at least 46 times - the room has an altered gravitational pull or something) and landed. . .on the toilet brush. Yuck, again. This is the reason I was in Wal-Mart at 7:40 this morning, on Friday the 13th no less, buying a toothbrush and nothing else. That’s random, too.
This blog will in all likelihood remain silent next week. But, I will have Paris experiences to share when I return.
1. My cousin, who lives in California with her Marine husband, recently had 12 pairs of underwear jacked from a laundromat. Who steals underwear? Yuck. (I mean this as a general comment, my cousin practices very good personal hygiene...awkward.) I'm a germophobe, so I have a bias, but I think most people should have some sort of mechanism in their brains that tells them it's not okay to, number one steal, but also wear a stranger's undergarments. I get the heebee-jeebees when I see slips at a Good Will. It ain’t right. The heartbreaking part is, her underwear was Victoria's Secret, and at a minimum cost of $8 a pair, that's at least $100 worth of panties gone in the night. Horrible, and...random.
2. Last night my sweet tooth got to aching and there was nothing in the house. We do that on purpose. However, I did find some chocolate chips, toffee bits, and chopped pecans. I mixed them together in a bowl and ate the concoction with a spoon. Don't judge me!! Now, that in itself is random, but, there's more. After this act of desperation, I of course needed to brush my teeth because one without dental insurance does not go to sleep with toffee stuck to one's teeth. I brushed well and set my toothbrush back in the thing that holds my toothbrush (I don't know what else to call it). It bounced out, slid off the counter (as almost everything in my bathroom has done at least 46 times - the room has an altered gravitational pull or something) and landed. . .on the toilet brush. Yuck, again. This is the reason I was in Wal-Mart at 7:40 this morning, on Friday the 13th no less, buying a toothbrush and nothing else. That’s random, too.
This blog will in all likelihood remain silent next week. But, I will have Paris experiences to share when I return.
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