No, I’m not doing NaNoWriMo
(That’s National Novel Writing Month for those of you who don’t know…)
But I am indeed wondering if I should devote time each day to write SOMETHING here. For at least a month.
But then I hate to even propose that, because I don’t want to lock myself away into some form of self-contrived bondage. Because when I fail (and I will fail), I will get down on myself for not fulfilling the vow to write here once a day for a month.
So let me say this, then: I promise to be on here more than I have.
And an entry will be coming shortly this evening… I hope.
Newness
So I’ve finally taken a huge and necessary step in my life: I’ve moved out into my own home.
“Home” is a quaint, cheery little studio high in the foothills (so I’m not really in the mountains, per se, but it feels like it compared to where I once was). The place is peaceful, serene, and quiet. Right now I hear birds chirping. And an occasional car. The studio is a downstairs portion of a couple’s home; I have no one next to me, and I seldom hear the owners walking above me.
Tomorrow marks a week of me being here. I’ve learned different idiosyncrasies to the place: the washer/dryer unit isn’t as efficient as the washer and dryer at my parent’s home, the hot water gets VERY HOT in a matter of seconds (can we say OUTCH during the first shower?), the refrigerator makes funky noises in the middle of the night (I think I’ve gotten used to them, however), the small kitchen window doesn’t close very well, so I don’t open it, I need heavier curtains so the light doesn’t peek through in the morning, the street is VERY DARK at night (I now carry a flashlight to and from the car; I tripped over the last few stairs a few nights ago and almost twisted my ankle), the gate is squeaky (but I’m keeping it that way so I can hear people come in and out), my phone reception is pretty wonky… but those are really the only negatives.
The stove works like a charm. The kitchen and bathroom are the perfect sizes. Storage space is abundant. The tile floors are lovely. The place is insulated well and quite warm when it needs to be warm and cool when it needs to be cool. The small refrigerator is perfect for what I need. The room has character in its yellow paint, molding, and other wall designs. The place is very bright during the day, especially when I open up the door. And above all, it is so peaceful. It is so private. I love sitting here at my desk and looking out to a huge mountain range. Trees cover the neighborhood. I love driving home at night, going up and up and up, while cars behind me turn off into other streets, and I keep ascending.
I finally feel like an adult. I’m turning 30 in July, but I finally feel like an adult. I finally feel okay. I still love my parents and sisters, but I love being out on my own. I went back to the house on Thursday to say hi and pick up a few more things (hopefully by the end of this month I’ll have everything I need to be settled here), and I was bracing myself for some sense of awkwardness or strangeness, but there was none. None at all. A bit of nostalgia, but no sense of “What the heck am I doing out of the house?” If anything, it confirmed to me that I did the right thing. And it’s not even that anything bad happened. I guess it was just a knowing deep down that I wasn’t supposed to be living there anymore, and that I had indeed been led by the Holy Spirit.
Once again, I am so glad I waited. Just like with the car. I have this sense of wonder and awe about it all.
I’ve also really enjoyed planning my meals. I didn’t think I would as much as I do. I like taking time to make good food, not just throwing something in the microwave or waiting until Mom made something. Granted, it forces me to really make sure I use my time wisely; I can’t sit on the internet like I used to. I also can’t work myself to death like I used to; I must stop grading papers or reading so that I can go over to the kitchen and start boiling water for pasta, or start cutting up oranges for my salad, or even start filling the sink with hot water and dish soap so I can do dishes. I’m such a beginner at cooking, but I am so excited about learning how to cook good meals! I’m so excited to have a Trader Joe’s close to my home so I can buy products that are healthy and organic. I’m so excited to even be cutting back on what I eat… I’ve felt a lot more energy recently. I’m also excited to be running again; I wanted to go running today, but we’ll see if I have time. Because I need to clean too… I’m so excited to clean! I mopped the floor on Wednesday and loved it! I like cleaning the kitchen! I need to clean the bathroom…
I suppose this will all wear off over time. But I’m kind of hoping it doesn’t. I’m hoping I can always love this sense of newness and adventure. I’m hoping I can always remember how this is just a part of the “checklist” I felt God give me years ago about certain steps I would need to be taking. The first was in regards to a career. Then it was in regards to finding my own place. And I’m in deep prayer about the next step.
a Mentor has died
Dr. Chris McCarthy, the man who basically got me my job at GCC, passed away this weekend.
This is what I said in a campus-wide email about him.
I’m sure I’m not the only one in total shock over this.
I always thought of him as “Professor McCarthy”; I had the extreme honor
of having him as a professor while attending GCC back in spring of 1999.
I was a member of the Scholar’s Program, and I was a part of his English
102 course, not having a clue who he was in relation to the GCC community.
I still vividly remember a few of his lectures. I had never had a
professor up to that point who displayed such a passion for the subject
material, and he passed on that passion to me. His encouragement and
enthusiasm encouraged me to continue writing; he brought validation to a
shy, young student who had no idea whether or not she was good enough to
be majoring in English.
I’m currently teaching in the classroom where I sat as his student. In
fact, I was there this morning… I don’t even know what else to say… I
had been looking forward to the day I could meet him as a colleague rather
than as a student. I just hope he knew the depth of the impact he made in
my life.
I’m so sad right now. I wonder how his wife is doing. I’m glad I was able to get in contact with him again before his passing… but man. I would have really liked to have seen him again. One of the most encouraging professors I ever had. So kind and dedicated to teaching. He read my essays out loud to the class; no other teacher had done that before.
All I can do now is pray.
Let
Let my very coldness call for the glow of your love; let my emptiness and dryness, like a barren and thirsty land, thirst for you, call on you to come into my soul, who refreshes those who are weary. Let my heart ache to you and for you, who stills the aching of the heart. Let my mute longings praise you, crave you, who satisfies the empty soul that waits on you.
(E.B. Pusey)
Pink and Blue Think
I should be grading essays, but this was discussed in class a bit today, and I want to discuss it a bit more.
Pink Think: the stereotypical images of what it means to be “female.”
Blue Think: the stereotypical images of what it means to be “male.”
(Granted, this is rooted in Western/American definitions)
Examples of Pink Think:
-Women are to be demure, quite, petite, and yet almost like children: seen and not heard.
-Women gain attention, affirmation, and acceptance by their outward beauty.
-Single women are not as esteemed as married women (unless they sleep around, of course). Worst case scenario for single women: that they end up being “an old maid.”
-Married women without children are not as esteemed as mothers.
-Women can’t do “male” work (i.e., mechanics/machine repair, police/security, plumbers, carpenters… I think doctors and lawyers have been broken as far as being seen as “male,” but there are definitely still “male-only” occupations)
-Women gossip. If not all the time, most of the time.
-Women operate out of their emotions rather than their logical sensibilities.
-Women are bad drivers.
-Women must know how to cook.
-Women are easily offended.
-Women love shopping.
-Women love “chick flicks”
-Women must do all they can to maintain their outer beauty; therefore, growing old is a curse.
Examples of Blue Think:
-Men are to be brash, loud, go-getters, and authoritative. (Like cave men?)
-Men gain attention by their jobs, their money, their cars, their homes, their girl(s), their children (in some cultures), and their ability to be “the life of the party” in whatever situation they are in.
-Single men are encouraged to be as promiscuous as physically possible. Pornography is normal in the lives of single men. Worst case scenatio for single men: that they become the 40-year-old virgin typified in the Hollywood movie bearing that name.
-Married men must give up the enjoyment of the single life and “settle down”; their excitement diminishes, their sex life dminishes, and they end up chained to the wife and catering to her ever (irrational) need.
-Men can’t do “female” work (i.e., librarians, secretaries, housecleaners… to some extent teachers, because there are more women teachers than men).
-Men can never cry.
-Men love watching sports on television and/or participating in sports. If they don’t like sports, they are automatically labeled as homosexual.
-Men know how to change a tire, fix a car, build something from scratch, use powertools… their favorite stores must involve tools of some kind.
-Men hate shopping. Especially with their wives/girlfriends.
-Men love violent, bloody movies.
-Men don’t need to worry so much about their outward appearance, especially once they’re married; then they can let themselves go. If they’re single, they at least have to have money.
In looking at these two lists, I’d say more has been done to free women than to free men. I wish there was a movement to bash these Blue Think stereotypes. And I hate how Pink Think is still propagated in a lot of ways.
The Purification of Hope
If our hopes are being disappointed just now, it means that they are being purified. These is nothing noble the human mind has ever hoped for or dreamed of that will not be fulfilled. One of the greatest strains in life is the strain of waiting for God.
(Oswald Chambers)
Sesame Street covered Waiting for Godot? And other books?
This is pretty awesome. But did kids actually get it? I read the play in high school…
And then The Old Man and the C. lol…
Then the Taming of the Shoe. LOL… William Shoespeare!
Little House on Prairie!? lol…
Okay, so these aren’t totally funny. But they’re kinda cute. I suppose I’m just amused that Sesame Street covered works of literature…
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vulnurability
I wish I was always comfortable in my own skin. I wish I could always know I’m okay just the way I am. I wish I could always know it’s okay that I don’t look like the women in magazines, on television, and in movies. I wish I could always remain content being single. I wish I could know I could live a satisfied life without being told I love you, I need you, please be my wife.
I suppose that the unsatisfied desires prmpt me to keep looking to Jesus.
So the post I wanted to write
I have thirty minutes before I have to go back to work (oh the glories of working more than one part-part-time jobs…).
My summer class has gone really well so far. The students are a good mix, and they’re good writers overall, so that makes grading their essays much easier. I also only have 24 students, so that limits my work load extensively. Plus, I’m teaching this class for the 4th time (I know, not a huge deal in comparison to long-term teaching stats, but I’m still a newbie at all this, so that’s quite exciting for me).
Found out a tentative 11-year high school reunion (oh the glories of my ridiculous high school class) is between a wedding rehersal for a friend (which I may not even be able to attend) and the actual wedding. It’s a crazy weekend, to be sure. I’m not even sure I want to go to the reunion… I can hear my sisters gasping right about now… I always talked about wanting to go, but that was back when I had just graduated. Now I hardly remember anyone anymore. And don’t reunions become bragging sessions anyway? Or how about DRUNKEN bragging sessions?
Last week I ran into a former student of mine. He was a very good writer; wrote a killer short story about 20 pages long that was upper-division level at least. I didn’t recognize him because he was in dress slacks, a button-down shirt, and a tie. He had also cleaned up his hair (gotten it cut, I mean) and had a goatee. He looked like a sophisticated young businessman.
And it made me wonder, perhaps for the first time: who are these people in my classes? Where have they come from? Where are they headed? What are they going to become? It made me never want to assign premature judgement to someone simply based on appearance or writing ability. I can’t say I’ve been blameless in this area, and I don’t believe anyone can say they’ve been blameless in this area. But to see the transformation before me, in the guise of a former student, really struck a chord in me.
The rest of my thoughts I wanted to write down are lost somewhere in my brain. I do have one thought, however: it is getting so amazingly hard to live with my parents. I’m way too old, or they’re way too old, or something. We have been clashing on virtually everything for a while now. Come September, I’m stepping up my search to look for a place of my own. It’s more than needed; I think my relationship with them will improve once I leave.
