Choices

This most recent season in my life has been rough. Very rough.

I've processed through almost all of it with the people in my life who love me and care about me. I'm sure more of it will come from time to time, but for now I'm all processed-out.

I would love to share this season of my life with you, but it's been so rough that I don't think it would be a good idea.

In a nutshell:

1. I let myself fall away from God.
2. I made unwise choices.
3. My heart became tied to those choices.
4. The inevitable fallout happened, and my heart got smashed.
5. I had to admit my failure and accept the consequences.
6. I'm now taking my mangled and tender heart before Jesus, asking Him for forgiveness, and promising to love and obey Him yet again.
7. He will love me, forever and ever, Amen, and he can heal that hurt inside me, though it may take a very long time. The consequences of my choices will not be easy.

I am ok. I am healthy, and I have friends and family who love me dearly.

The rest will come with time.

Life is joyously hard

I spent time talking to a friend of mine today, and she helped me come to a sort-of revelation about myself.

I was filling her in on my life, the various ups and downs (and of course, there are always downs), yet everything I said to her ended with an exclamation mark. The tough parts of my life were always tempered with the good. And the good far outweighed the bad.

She was quiet for a second, and then she asked me, "Is life ever hard for you?"

I had to think about it for a minute, and I've been thinking about it all evening as well.

I mean, sure I have struggles just like any other person. I have weekly stresses like we all do:

-Sunday evenings stink because I'm lonely and school is the next day
-It's harder and harder to not let my personal life affect my attitude at work
-I have reports to turn into my boss and get regular evaluations

I also have larger life stresses like other people:

-I'm working on becoming financially responsible and finding it hard
-I want to excel professionally and impress my boss and coworkers
-I've opened my heart to people which makes it easier to get hurt
-I'm trying to find harmony between my spiritual, professional, and personal lives

And while some of these larger life stresses have recently weighed heavy on my heart, I'm currently laying here on my living room floor and typing this blog post with a song in my heart and simply giddy with love and positivity.

Many people reading this post have experienced difficulties in life that I can't even imagine. Sometimes God deals people crap hands in life because that person has the strength to deal with it. That person will come out of the pressure and the fire a beautiful diamond, as long as he/she doesn't back down from the trouble and pain.

I've got to say that I've yet to be tested to my utmost limit of endurance. Perhaps the thing that helps me is that I look for God in every single detail of my life. When a struggle arrives I immediately ask what He is doing in it. I never have any idea at the time, but it helps to ask at least. And when a struggle leaves I ask what He did in that struggle.

And I always find what He did. What He wanted to teach me. And I vow to accept that teaching and learn from it.

And in my very short span of life on this earth, I've learned that absolutely everything in my life has been for gain and benefit.

I have cried tears of despair so thick while driving that I simply had to pray I'd make it home. I've been betrayed by people I love, and I've lost friends I considered my best. I've been emotionally abused for years on end and have thought myself worthless more times than I can imagine.

And yet at this very moment, when I look back on those times, I almost cherish them.

They were incredibly hard for me. Yet this joyous woman I am at 9:50 on a Monday night would not be here without them.

I suppose my "secret" might be the fact that I never try to forget hardship. I let it come and go, and then I dig deep to find what can be learned from it. Then I hold that lesson hard in my heart. Then the hardship becomes gain in my life.

And, by the way, that lesson for me is that God is always, always faithful and He will never give me more than I can bear.

Which, laying here as joyous as I am, is both a sobering and an exciting thought.

Sobering because I know He has much harder things in store for me.
And exciting because they will show me just how strong I can be.

I am alive. Very alive.

Ok, so I've been sufficiently chastised for not posting for, um, almost four months.

Wow, ok, so maybe I deserved the finger-shakings sent my way. Yikes. The things you all have missed when it comes to my life! Because I know you hang on my every word....

Either way, I'm back and let's get started.

Summer


Summer was amazing. It was wonderful. I wasn't bored. I ended up going to the pool the very next day after writing my post about being bored and lonely, and I finally got to see people. It was so refreshing that I went back the next day. And the next. And the next. And almost every day after that. I became a regular pool bunny!

Which, by the way, is a weird phrase. Am I using that correctly? Pool bunny? Eh, who knows.

I ended up losing about 15 pounds. Without trying. Ah, are any two words more magical when it comes to weight loss? I got more tan than I've ever been in my life. I was active and moving around like crazy. It was such a great time for me.

Friends


Oh my goodness, I finally made those friends! People to hang out with every single day of the summer.

I was never alone. I developed a special little group, and we all loved each other.

And many of them were those seniors that I had graduated in May. We became legitimate friends. And I got friends of my own age too!

Honestly, I had no idea how lonely I'd been during the last school year until finally being with people every single day. Something in my heart was filled again.

------------

There are lots of fun stories from the summer, but instead of immortalizing them here, I think I will let them stay in my mind. It was special and unique in many ways, and I took a break from blogging for a reason. I'm leaving everything else from this summer in the summer.

This blog was often very open and very personal last year. Not only when it came to work and school, but also when it came to my heart and my thoughts. However, this year my heart and my deep, personal thoughts will appear less on this blog. Whether that saddens you or relieves you, that's the way I'm going to do it this year. I finally have enough people I actually talk to, so this place will receive less of that.

One day soon, I hope to open up here again, but I'm closing up for a little while.

Otherwise, get ready for more fun things when it comes to school and life in a small town!

I'm back!

Cat bathing

Thus far my summer has been the most interesting and eventful of my life.

Last summer I spend a lot of time internalizing. A lot of time thinking. A lot of time spilling all the stuff here.

This summer I'm finding myself doing a lot less of that.

I'm living my life in externals this summer.

I'm getting out of my head. I'm spending time with friends. I'm forging new relationships with people. I'm exploring new things [I totally shot a gun for the first time and it was awesome].

One thing I did do the other day?

Gave my cat a bath.

Holy yikes that was a lovely experience.

The sounds that came out of that animal. It was like she was dying. She sounded like a human child in the revving up stage of a tantrum. Does that make sense?

Either way, it made me nervous about what others might think was going on inside my house. Luckily the windows have been closed for the week since I finally caved and turned on the AC.

-----

Well, this post wasn't too eventful or exciting, so we'll wait for the next ones to come out. Upcoming topics include:

1. Gossip. Why do people do it and what does it gain them? Especially when they don't know the truth.
2. The Pool. Why I am suddenly so attracted to it and why I spend a lot of time there.

I'm not dead . . . see?

Ok, I've been sufficiently chastised about my lack of posting.

So it's happening now.

School is over. The last time I posted school felt like it was far from over. I thought that I was stressed in earlier parts of the year, but I had no idea what was in store for me until I hit May. Wow. That was like being run over by a Mack truck. Every single day. Because I wasn't just stressed by my job or the time of the year, I was also stressed emotionally.

A good friend of mine warned me about graduating seniors. The stress they put on those teachers who truly love them and the hole they can rip in your heart.

That sounds dramatic, huh? Let me explain.

We'll establish some points first.
1. I truly loved my seniors. That was easy enough.
2. They were already special to me because they were my first seniors.
3. We were all looking forward to being friends.

So then their last day happens. We had our awards day, and it was wonderful. We all laughed knowing laughs when I described The Manipulator, shed some tears when I revealed The Arm, and gasped in amazement when we saw the portraits of The Emotional Arguer and The Possessor. It was a fun hour. It was a fun last day for them as well. I had visits and company in all of my subsequent hours. I tried to soak it in.

Then I accompanied the seniors on their senior skip day. It was a great day. Go Karts, rock climbing, Olive Garden, ice skating, the mall, seeing a movie. One of them couldn't make it on the trip however. My first pangs of sadness began.

That weekend my friend, Ann, and I tagged cars with my fellow teacher, Mr. G. Senior cars. And it was such a fun night. Especially because my "sons" showed up and played a great prank on me. Sidenote: that is why I love teaching in a small town. I could never interact with my students in that way if I was in a larger town or school. We ran around, tagged the cars, and had an awesome time.

Then came graduation day. I visited receptions all afternoon. They were good. Not painful at all. Then came graduation. I did my part. I sang. It went well. Then graduation started. They walked across the stage and got their pieces of paper and turned their tassels. Yes, I cried. They were done. I was done officially teaching them and having an established place in their lives.

That evening I went to another reception. I had a good time. I'll admit, I felt a little out of place at times. I imagine it'll take me a few more years to be able to just sit with people from around town and feel like I'm part of the conversation. Sometimes I still feel like an outsider. And there were other circumstances at hand. Anyway, there was a jumbo Jenga game. Saturday Night Live to watch (a favorite of mine, of course). And an Xbox trivia game which I dominated.

Then came the last official week of school. That first day back was torture. I'll admit it. I had an awful day. The rest of the week got better. School ended. Most of my seniors came back to visit with me, which cheered me immensely. The last day of school was celebrated by myself and some fellow employees. That was my first time of relaxation since . . . well, the school year began. Then I went to state track and state baseball.

And now I'm sitting here on my front porch and it's the second night of my official summer.

And I feel lonely.
And I feel bored.
And I feel unproductive.

Even though this is only my second day alone.
Even though I have lots of things on my summer To Do list.
Even though I've already worked through a few of them.

I used to do so well when it came to getting people in my life. I had finally become comfortable with calling up people and getting things together. I truly believe that loneliness is a choice. There are lots of people that I love that I know love me back and would really enjoy spending time together. The fact that I sit at home alone is entirely up to me because hey! I have a phone. I can call them. And they would most likely come over.

The hard part is that the people here that I love and want to spend time with were my students less than two weeks ago. Calling them and inviting them to actually hang out with me and do things still feels taboo. Talking to them is no problem. But setting up hang out times? I'm nervous and insecure all over again. What if they don't want to hang out with me? What if it's too weird? What if I'm boring and uncool and blah blah blah.

Lame, huh?

This is why insecurity is so annoying to the people who have to hear about it from others.

Because it's so STUPID.

For all I know they're feeling the same things I am, only on the other side of the coin. I bet they're thinking, "Why would Miss Martin (whoops, I meant to call her MB!) want to hang out with me? I'm probably not old enough for her to want to hang out. I bet she'd think hanging out with me was boring or stupid."

Ugh.

Come on new friends! Let's be boring together!

Back to school

Ok, so you're going to think I'm crazy.

But then again, you think that about me relatively often if you are a regular follower of this blog. I'm ok with that.

Anyway, here it is:

I miss school.

Not the teaching part. And don't worry, just because my students are currently whining about going through Shakespeare and suffering from major cases of extremely contagious Senioritis does not mean that I hate teaching. Fact: I still love teaching.

No, what I miss is actually being a student.

No, no, no, OK, seriously, hear me out.

Come on, stay with me (See? I told you you'd think I was crazy!) just let me explain.

Tonight at youth group an amazing man came and taught us how to look at the book of Revelation through the filter of the book of Daniel. He went about a million miles per hour, was crazy enthusiastic, and brought handouts and a PowerPoint to go with it.

I was in love.

Seriously. I loved being a student. And tonight I was sitting there on the edge of the pew, pencil poised to catch every tidbit I could while I flipped furiously through my Bible trying to keep up with him.

Now, granted, in high school it was a little hit and miss. Trust me, I did not sit in math or history like that. In math I was too busy trying to make my notes look fun and interesting, and in history I was too busy either doodling in my notebook or wondering what my teacher had had for breakfast because pieces of it were still stuck in his beard and on his collar (true story).

And, if I'm honest, I didn't quite sit like that in English all the time. Except when we did a few novels that I really loved. Or poetry. I was always attentive for that.

But man, oh man. College was a different story. With the major exceptions of anything math-related, Psychology, or Linguistics, I was totally different.

Writing About Film was a revelation. I thought I understood films and how to read them. That class totally opened my eyes. I devoured every film clip we watched in class and then went home, rented the films on Netflix, and went over it again. I watched films over and over again, looking at the use of framing, cuts, color, pacing, angles, music, and symbols. This class gave me a greater love for Altman and more disdain for Scorsese and his overdone symbolism. We get it, he's a Christ-figure, does he really have to die in the crucifix position in slow motion?

Introduction to Logic was such an incredible class that I voluntarily took the Advanced Logic class. I convinced other friends to take it. I learned how to use people's words like math equations. It made me a better arguer, helped me understand syntax and how essential it is to meaning, and grounded me in reality. Not the depressing kind of realism. Just, well, real realism.

Anthropology was fascinating. Even though my father says that it's not a real science I still found it engrossing. Why do people operate the way they do? Why do we congregate? How do other cultures work? What makes them separate from us and what makes us similar? I found that I loved the differences and the nuances in each culture. And I also found that those differences make other cultures (And culture-groups within America) more precious. I love cultural differences and I'm not afraid to admit it.

And all my English classes. It's safe to assume that I love books. It's also safe to assume that I love analyzing literature; therefore, my English classes in college were great. Mostly. There were two with whats-her-name who shall never be mentioned again (she gave me a C once), but otherwise, they were great!

Ah, I miss it.

Oh, but not my education classes.

Sorry to all of you who are future educators, but wow. Those classes. If anything ever felt like a bigger waste of money . . . man. I learned more in my semester of Student Teaching than I did in the previous three full of classes about Diversity, Methods, and Management.

But hey. You gotta do what you gotta do.

And without them, I wouldn't be here.

So, it's all good.

What a fun day!

I had one of the best days at school EVER today.

That's right.

And now it pains me to admit it, but it's because my students blocked my doorway for a canned food drive, which meant that I didn't have class today. Instead, I hung out in the gym all day long and played.

Awesome.

Oh, except for my seniors. We'd had a party planned already, so we just had our party. Threw some apples at a brick wall. You know. Normal stuff.

Also, I found this and it is all kinds of awesome.

Not because I am a hater of my own sex. Not at all. I think I, as a woman, am mysterious, beautiful, and pretty stinkin' cool.

I mostly found this awesome because I love logic. Like, REAL logic where you turn words and phrases in to mathematical equations. And this particular piece of logic is just brilliant.

So true, so true

Nothing much tonight. Just this thought.

T.S. Eliot is better than Broadway

Another new post? My goodness, what is going on?

I chatted with some students for two whole hours after school today. It was wonderful. I love spending time with my students and just getting to know them as people.

Also, tonight was the awards banquet. Next year I'll be up there giving the awards and the little speech for the all-school play, and I realized something:

I'm going to be in way over my head when it comes to putting on a play next year!

I mean, I'm very excited for it, don't get me wrong. I love theatre, and I love acting. I have a lot of experience on all stages of the theatre process, but I still have never actually directed a play on my own. But even that won't be the hardest part. I have to coordinate schedules, work with the activities director, make sure that I have a venue that works, equipment that works......yikes! I'm a more big ideas person and a thinker. I'm not so much a doer. Little nitpicking things like that are tough for me. So I'm already praying that the play will go over well.

Also, I'm about to go through T.S. Eliot with my seniors (yay!) and that led me to revisit my love the of musical Cats. Well, I should say, my former love. It was my literal obsession when I was about five. Not kidding. Here's how it went down:

My sister and I would invite our friends Sheena and Whitney over to play. We'd put on my parents' record (yes, record, as in vinyl) of the musical and then we'd race up the stairs that led down to the living room. Then it was time to make our grand entrances.

You had to creep down the stairs, gingerly, one foot at a time, and make sure you were extra graceful. You were pretending to be a cat, after all. Then you had to move around the living room in a pre-choreographed dance while mouthing all the words. No real singing allowed.

We always fought over who got to be what cat. As in, we would all crowd around the open record cover, looking at the dingy photographs from the original production, and fight over who got to be which cat. I always wanted to be the one with the sleek bodysuit and the Siamese coloring. My sister and the other girls would fight over who got to be the pure white fluffy cat. She was the prettiest.

I secretly wanted to be her too, but I figured that it wasn't worth fighting over. And hey, the Siamese was very pretty in her own way.

Looking back, our little shows were basically just four girls under six years old crawling around on the floor while a record played in the background, meowing, arguing over being imaginary actresses, and forcing our poor parents to sit through yet another show--same as the last seven.

Ah, simpler times.

Lists of things

I'm trying to think of what to write. 

It's hard to come back to blogging when it's been such a long time since my last post. 

I should really do better with all of that. 

I think it's so hard because I have a lot of things that I could catch all of you up on.

But perhaps I should just regulate this particular post to the things currently going on. 

How about I tell you what is around me?

1. My phone, dark and silent. Kind of lonely.

2. My new school laptop, playing Band of Horses....lovely.

3. My English 10 textbook, open to Julius Caesar, untouched and being avoided. 

4. A pile of grading, including tests and papers. Also being avoided.

5. My "To Do" list. It currently has two of ten things crossed off.

6. An empty graham cracker package....my current fixation.

7. My nail box. I am typing this with newly brilliant red nails.

8. My Scrubs season 5 DVDs. Currently on pause while I listen to some good music. 

How about I continue with listing things and I'll give you a list of the last few days?

1. I enjoyed my drive back to Ashland immensely. I left with lots of time to spare and just sort of meandered. I haven't had too many opportunities to do that. It was good thinking time.

2. I've been in the mood to buy new clothes lately. So I did. My spring and summer wardrobes are filling themselves out nicely. And my wallet is considerably slimmer. And for awhile I kept wondering why every girl I ever see in athletic shorts wears those Nike shorts. Now I know. And own two pairs. 

3. One of my dear friends cut my hair, and it was lovely to catch up with her. She cuts a fine head of hair. And I'll be back as soon as school is out for something a little less tame. I almost put feathers in my hair, but I figured that was just a tad too trendy and unprofessional. Darn having to be professional. When summer is here look out, dangit! 

Oh, and do you know about this feather trend? No? This is what I'm talking about, in case you missed it:

4. I saw four baseball games four days in a row. It was a good time. Even though I had to watch my Shockers lose the last one. Although I am slightly disheartened that the dancing and nicknames have lagged since I left for Ashland it is somewhat gratifying to know that it was my enthusiasm that spurred those things on. In my short time back I nicknamed/renamed four players, created a new dance, and resurrected a few old ones. 

5. I've been looking at my standards and the things I desire lately. I've got a lot of conflicts going on in my heart. Questions I've been asking myself: Do I desire temporary happiness or fuller, yet harder, happiness? Are my expectations too high? Am I truly looking at the things in my life through the lens of reality? Would I truly be willing to drag my heart through the dirt for little or no gain? And do these questions even apply to my life right now? 

6. I usually wear jeans in the summer. I create shorts by cutting up pants. I bought my first pair of real shorts this weekend. This is a large step forward. I am determined to put my legs out there. Not like a hussy, mind you, but like a normal person. They're not bad legs. They're pretty average. Ok, they're a little short, but I'm a little short, so I think it evens out to normal-looking legs if you don't compare them to anyone else's.

7. My relationship with Jesus has stagnated. Which sucks. Cause He's sort of amazing. And he died for me. And then totally conquered death and rose again. Dang. But if you're wondering why it might have stagnated, check out list item number 5. It all ties together. 

8. Sometimes I tell people things that they don't need to know. Sometimes I tell them in places where these things don't need to be talked about. Sometimes I tell too many people too many things. If I told everyone that I owned a white car, well, that's a silly thing to tell them, but at least my car actually is white. If I instead told everyone that I was thinking about taking a trip to Europe over the summer (which I'm not), well, then by the time summer rolled around everyone would be waiting for a postcard from Prague. The point is, I tell too many people about too many up-in-the-air things which then makes me look foolish if they don't pan out. 

9. Some things on my mind can't be talked about in a public forum. And I'm sorry, but they also can't be talked about with the large majority of people in my life. But I am so incredibly thankful for a few close friends who do not judge, who support me, who push me toward truth and good choices, and who are trying to understand what's going on in my head. And without them I'd be in a bad place. 

10. It rained today. It made me happy. 

Ouch!

The next few days are tough. I said goodbye to The Monolith a year ago today. Part of me feels rather stupid for knowing that and caring. The other part of me is fully aware that I am STILL healing. You'd think after a year I'd be healed. But, well, anyone who's had to heal from lost love....you understand.

But I'm not here to drag you down. Or at least I'm not trying to do that.

I've been rather snippy or frustrated with my students lately. Some in particular. I believe this is the reason. Not the whole reason, mind you, but part of the reason.

The other part is that I'm ready for summer to be here. I'm ready to relax! And frankly, when my students act stupid in class a lot of me is just really ready to laugh with them. But I still have to teach and maintain order. So then not only am I frustrated that students are goofing off during class time, I'm also doubly frustrated that I still have to be, you know, a TEACHER and put them back on task.

Cause if I still have to do my job then, by golly, they better do theirs. Cause it's just not fair!

Ok, all whining aside, I'm working on not being so frustrated.

And hey! I actually have something fun for you all to end this rather varied blog post.

So I am not one who can stand or sit still. I am a fidgeter. I talk VERY expressively with my hands, swing my feet, sway back and forth, etc. And usually to the amusement of all around.

Ok, so then yesterday I'm in the computer lab with my seniors, who are working diligently on their research papers, and I'm leaning against the counter. As usual, I'm swaying back and forth against the counter.

Suddenly, I feel a rather sharp pain in my right butt cheek.

That's right, you heard me. Butt cheek.

I freeze, and I KNOW my eyes got really wide all of a sudden. Someone asks, "Miss Martin, what's wrong?" I simply smile and say, "Oh, nothing!" while trying to maintain a normal smile.

Luckily the bell is going to ring in one minute, so I just wait for the one male in the room to leave and promptly thrust my hand down the back of my pants.

Sorry for the graphics, but hey, if something stabbed into your butt cheek YOU try walking all the way to bathroom to do that.

Needless to say I found the culprit. A nice splinter, about 3/4inch long. It was ALL THE WAY inside my pants. AND lodged in my flesh.

Ouch.

There are so many jokes I could make at this point, but seeing as all of them are highly inappropriate, I'll hold off.

Let's just say that I'm sure you could imagine a few....

Dresses and techno

It's been awhile, I know.

Things were tough that week. Not just that day. That week.

I cried. A lot. I haven't cried much since coming to Ashland. And that week the floodgates opened up. And it was legitimate, sure. No one likes being told they are hated. And me? Well, we know I take all things to heart, and I love everyone. And being hated by someone simply boggles my mind, I suppose.

Thankfully people reached out. And I felt loved. And comforted. And I'm grateful for all the people who soothed me, tried to make me laugh through the tears, and gave me some perspective.

Lots has gone on. I don't have space to get into it all. Many things are still the same. Loving my kids. Loving living here. Loving my surrogate family. Looking forward to summer. Still being a girl.

And speaking of being a girl, I went shopping for a Prom dress yesterday.

Let me remind you, my dear readers: I hate shopping. I'm too picky. And even worse, I hate shopping with people. So imagine my comfort while shopping for something specific (i.e. Prom dress) with people (i.e. my girlfriends) for an unspecified amount of time.

Don't get me wrong. I love my girls. And I loved seeing them. But I felt like I was dragging them along and taking up their afternoon while trying on awful dress after awful dress. Granted, the dresses were pretty and the girls were having fun (especially when I flashed them and hey, they asked for it!), but I still felt slightly uncomfortable.

BUT! This story has a happy ending! Prom dress has been procured! And wow. It's a beauty. It's a beautiful color, flowing and simple, yet very nicely shaped. I feel awesome in this dress.

It was, however much too long in the straps. And you know what? Today I actually acted even
more like a woman and shortened the straps myself. That's right, folks. Yours truly ripped seams, pushed down the straps, and sewed the dress back up. And it was successful!

Have I lost your attention my dear male readers? I know all this dress talk must be endlessly boring for you.

Hmm. How about this?

I saw HANNA as well.

Holy. Crap. What a movie.

It's beautiful and vicious. That's the best way to describe it. The fight scenes are Bourne-ish. The world is stylized and lush, even in stark places like the snowy forest. And the violence is unapologetic and incredibly in-your-face. These aren't characters who hesitate when it's time to pull the trigger. No. It gets done.

And the soundtrack? Oh my word. The Chemical Brothers. Not kidding, I was sitting practically
on my knees in the theatre chair because I was so excited by this music.

A sucker for kick-A fight scenes paired with hard, industrial techno and throbbing bass? Yeah, ok, you caught me. Guilty.

Here, take a listen to this one. Made the movie for me.

Don't like it? Well, no one's perfect. But I'll like you just a little bit less.

Today was...

Awful.

The end.

Silliness and a serious case of the tingles

Hello my faithful followers.

I'm trying to be a faithful blogger for you. Sometimes it's hard. I mean, I'm sure we're very similar. This means that many of the thoughts floating around my head are nothing new. Just same old thoughts. Floatin' around. Gettin' kinda annoying. This sort of makes it hard to write things for you. And unless something hilarious happens to me I doubt any of you would be interested in the goings on of my life.

Although (and I blush to confess it) I did manage to burn a cake tonight. I know. To cinders. Ugh. Maybe I can cook, but bake? Not exactly. Dang. But it's ok anyway. It was a pineapple cake, and don't ask me why I had one. I don't know. Cause I sure wasn't going to like it anyway. Now I love pineapples, but as a cake? Meh.

See? That was my one anecdote from the day. Pineapples and burnt cakes. Aren't you glad I shared? Don't you feel enlightened? Entertained? No? See? Told you.

Oh, or how about this? I tried on my old dresses from high school today. Yep, they still fit. And I look better in them now.

Yeah.....that was definitely interesting.

Last night a friend and I chatted about my high school days. We went through my old yearbooks, reading comments, laughing at the things people wrote, "aww"ing at the sweet or touching things from friends, and counting up the number of guys I had crushes on each year. Sophomore year was the worst: 12. And that's only the boys who signed my yearbook...

Oh my readers. You have no idea how ridiculously boy crazy I used to be. I'm calmer now, thankfully.

But it made me think about high school. And how much I lived for theatre and choir. Lived for them, people. They were my passions. I know now that theatre was a passion because I loved the people. I loved being in front of an audience and keeping them entertained. And I loved music because, well, it is the foundation of my soul.

Dang, that's deep.

My love of theatre has transferred in interesting ways.

I love entertaining people. Keeping them laughing. Cracking jokes. Making the offhanded comment that puts people in stitches. As any of my friends can tell you, I bank a lot of my personality on the fact that I'm short, cute, and silly. I lessened early on that I cannot tell a joke or make a whip smart remark very well (although the "your face" formula has yet to let me down), so instead I channeled my ability to entertain into being the one that people laughed AT.

Luckily, God made me naturally clumsy, quirky, and fun-sized--all a rather brilliant combination for being laughed at.

My love of theatre also transferred into being a teacher. Thanks to years of performing I can easily tell when I'm losing an audience, and I'm always thinking in terms of keeping my audience's attention. And if I'm losing it then I just act dumb for a second, people laugh, and we get right back on track.

Ah, manipulation. So good.

In all honesty, it's the people who are closest to me, who I trust most, and who know the real me who get to see my seriousness. The quiet me. If I haven't made a joke in thirty minutes and we're just hanging out, don't worry. Nothing is wrong. You're actually just seeing regular ol' MB. The one without the silly games or the shows of clumsiness or quirky gestures. Although, real MB makes gestures too. Dangit.

And music. We all know music is my soul. And in high school that was choir.

I was asked what my favorite song was. And i wanted to choose something hip. Something edgy. But really, all I can think of is a choir piece.

Nerd alert!

This piece is written for men. It's Franz Beibel's arrangement of "Ave Maria" and I've never in my life heard anything more beautiful produced by the human voice. When I listen to this piece, I lay on the floor. I soak in the exquisite harmonies and the so-beautiful-they're-painful dissonances. Chills creep over me and my heart speeds up. When the "Amen"s begin at the end of the piece I feel like my heart could burst out of my chest, slowly at first, but then building in a crescendo of sound that topples me over the edge.

Phew. Almost makes me blush to read that. But that's this piece for me. It's an almost tangible experience. Take a listen. Please.

Enjoy.

And you're welcome for the tingles.

Give 'em a swift kick in the Alberts

Dear boys, this is a warning. This post gets all sorts of girly. Get out while you still can.

And, no, I'm not talking clothes and makeup and jewelry....none of which I like very much anyway. Ok, I lied. I sometimes love makeup, but not in the summer.

And no, I'm not talking mushy feelings crap either. Although there was plenty of that going on in my head today and some will get mentioned here.

No, I'm talking about genuine, biological, girly. You ready?

Yeah.

Hormones suck.

I learned early on that I am led ALL sorts of crazy by my stupid hormones. I used to just let them wash over me without really knowing what was going on or how to get control of them. Suddenly, around the third week of the month (I am as reliable as Big Ben, people) my emotions would start swinging more and more rapidly among depths of despair, dying for a boyfriend (or dying to be with the current one), expansively joyful, and incredibly pissed off.

Dude, I totally get it when you men utterly don't understand us. The feeling is mutual, my friends.

I'd like to say that I got it after a few years, but sadly, it took me about seven years to realize what was going on and over ten years to start correcting it successfully.

Yes. Over ten. No. I'm not old. I was simply an early bloomer. Very early. Let's just say I could technically be the mother of some of my students. Yikes and yikes.

Anywho, I started to get it under control.

But sometimes, my brain and body chemistry has a will of its own. Some months I can just feel it. This one is going to be a doozy. Too much is built up, too much is happening right at the perfect (or worst, if you're a pessimist) time, too many stupid feelings are flying around.

And, by the way, I kind of dislike feelings. They're sneaky. They can't be trusted. Cause dang, mine are here and gone in, like, two seconds. Not joking, I've had crushes on people where I honestly (and this is embarrassing, ok?) thought that we were fated to be together for life. And uh, I barely knew the guys. And yes, I said guys. Plural. That's why it's embarrassing. If you're meant to be with one person for life and it's fate, then thinking that I'm fated to be with one guy after another is a serious flaw in my ability to pair logic with STUPID feelings.

This is also why I am the LAST person to realize when someone has feelings for me. Since I don't trust feelings I ignore the signs from others....I mean, why trust those either, right? Seriously. If I don't hear the exact words I won't believe it. Yeah. Nice, I know.

Anyway AGAIN, sorry for the long digressions.

This month? This week. Ayi mama, it promised to be a doozy.

And I should probably never say those words again. They sort of don't work for me.

And today? Oh today. It showed just how much of a perfect storm my hormones and life situations can create. I'm hopeful most students didn't catch on. I know some did, unfortunately. I like to think of those who did as having Martin radar. They watch me closely and pick up on the littlest things about me. And you know exactly who you are.

But man. Great mood this morning. Then SUPER pissed. Then annoyed. Then sad. Then lonely. Then that sort-of angry lonely where it's like life is taunting you just to be a B. Then I felt like crying. Yep. For the first time ever I felt like crying at school today. Because of things at school. Twice. Yikes.

I my hormones had balls I would kick them. Sorry. Violence. Never pretty.

Santa Fe: Part Two

Ok, my rabid readers. I'm home from Santa Fe now and incredibly happy to be so. It was beautiful. It was fun. It was wonderful to get some quality time with the rents (especially since I never get to see them). But in all honesty, I missed Ashland.

I know my parents (Dad especially) think I'm crazy for how much I love my little town. They love the city (Dad especially). I love it too. But I found what my heart loves more. And that's this town with these people that I've met. Honestly, I've made some true heart friends out here, I've grown into myself (finally), and I've found a job that I look forward to each day with joy. I know that at least makes them very happy even if it does mean that they're losing their sophisticated city girl to small town Kansas. Cause I'm totally happy about that.

Ok, let's recap that last half of Santa Fe, shall we? How about another top ten things. Sounds good to me.

1. I am totally backwards with long drives. Bright sun and heat make me want to do nothing but sleep. And sleep I did on the long drive to and from Taos. Which was a fun trip but the main reason we went--which was to see the pueblo--was unavailable. Disappointing. BUT....

2. I again looked at shiny and pretty things. Jewelry always calls my name. And I have to look at it and say, "Silly jewelry, why do you call my name? You know I'll never ever wear you." Which is totally true. I actually really dislike the look of things hanging around my neck. If I were a guy, I'd totally think that a sweep of bare neck was much sexier than one with shiny things obscuring it. But maybe that's just me.

3. Ok, can I start this by saying that I'm a toucher? I can't help it. I see something that interests me and, like a five-year-old, I have to reach out and touch it. So, naturally, I see a metal sculpture of a salamander I find interesting. Not because I particularly like salamanders, but simply because I wanted to feel the metal. I place it back on the shelf, it nudges the little ceramic sculpture behind it, and in slow motion I watch a little green tree frog topple onto the floor and break. Excellent. My mom thinks I should keep it. I think it's only a reminder that sometimes I'm more immature than my fourteen-year-old students. But perhaps that's a good thing......

4. I introduced my mom to the world of toe shoes (whose official brand name is Vibram). She got herself a pair and, since the sales lady was kind enough to give us 10% off, I took the opportunity to get myself a new pair: all black with only a strap across the foot. Love. Them. Oh, and the sales lady asked if I was a toe girl. Um, yes, hello? I walked on my tiptoes EVERYWHERE when I was little. I used my toes instead of hands to pick things up. I would give thumbs ups with my toes. And......

5. I still walk on my toes. And Vibrams make me want to do it a lot. So what do I do on a stop on the way in to Taos? I walk around the courtyard (seemingly alone) on my tip toes. What do I learn later? My father was spying on me with his video camera, capturing every second. And let's just say I look ridiculous. Not to mention all I can stare at is my butt, which he got a lovely close-up of to catch my feet and legs. Ugh.

6. That place, however, was lovely. The Santuario de Chimayo. Thousands of Catholics journey from Alburqueque to this place once a year because it is said that the dirt has healing properties. I have to say, the place itself seems to have healing properties. I felt refreshed there. Calm. Content. Even with unanswered questions in my life. It was a good stop.

7. Drinks at the home of my dad's friend Bob and his husband Hector. SUCH a lovely home (and very tasty margaritas). I enjoyed their company immensely, and ate a LOT of guacamole (one of my favorite things). Also, their backyard overlooks the place where True Grit was shot. That's right, my fears. I got to see the place where True Grit was filmed. I know that at least a few of you will appreciate that. Please feel free to be jealous.

8. I dressed up every time we went to dinner. My parents did not. I don't know why they didn't. That's one area where the city in me will never leave, I guess. Dinner out is FUN. And if you're going to go out then why not GO OUT, you know? Dress up! Darken that eyeliner! Put on the heels! Honestly, part of it is that I never get to REALLY dress up. I mean, my students see me looking nice, but not dressed to go OUT. So you bet I will take any chance I can get to smolder out there. Even if it is just my parents!

9. I read two whole books on the drives. Holy cow. That's a lot for me right now. My reading in the last few months has consisted of what my students read. Next year will be better since I won't have to spend SO much time reading and rereading what I'm going to teach them. And the best part about my reading? It's all self-contained on my E-reader which means that I can carry around hundreds of books all on one slim little device. Perfect!

10. Santa Fe is all artists and good food. And I think we over-indulged on both. I missed my music. And I know I'll greet my briefly fuller frame with annoyance for a bit. Luckily, the weather is nicer, so all I have to do is slip on my new Vibrams, put my sweet bike pants, and hop on the Trek for a few miles. Or a few hours. Whatever works.

Only two more days of freedom before it's back to the grindstone.

And then one month to Prom.

And two months to graduation.

And then one more week until school is out.

I mean, look. I love my job.

But I'm ready for summer and all that comes with it.

Santa Fe: Part One

Ok, first, let's start with a few pre-Santa Fe things.

My parents are awesome.
I really needed this break.
I am a kick-A cook.

Over this last month the electronic things in my home died. Don't ask me why. My laptop croaked. The DVD player in my old TV suddenly decided to stop working. I could no longer watch DVDs in my own home. Not kidding, in order to watch The Social Network I had to curl up on the couch in the library at school. At 10:00 at night. It was kind of cool, but also annoying.

I'm going to say it all happened because I am an unusually electric person and the devices could simply no longer handle the charge from being around me. Yep. Stop laughing. Jerks.

Well, my parents arrive this weekend. And they have something with them. That something would be an LCD HDTV for me and a Blu-Ray player. Holy crap. No words. Except that they are awesome. And generous. And I am spoiled. And I will need tom work very hard to show how grateful to them I am.

And before they arrive I ask what they would like for dinner. My mom says, "Well, a roast would be mice."

A roast? Um, I've never made a roast before. BUT, one of my major life goals is to make a large array of food that is so good that people dream about it, crave it, and beg for it. And a roast? Well, that's like, a STAPLE. Like meatloaf. Like chicken and noodles. Like pumpkin pie or chocolate chip cookies.

So I bought the supplies, thought about how to put it together, and went for it.

Um, it was amazing, if I say so myself. Wow. I was almost sad that my parents helped me eat it. And it was a chuck roast too. Not the best cut. And it was still juicy and tender enough. I feel like I'm well on my way with the cooking.

Ok. So the break begins. Much needed. Have you read the last few posts? Yeah, they've been a little heavy. And for those of you who enjoy this blog because I write about the funny things in my life, well, I don't blame you if you've been a little tired of that thus far.

I'm tired of it too! Heavy thoughts are always in my head, but they're usually equally matched by the lighter things. I feel like those have been missing lately.

Well, here's a few:

1. Driving into Santa Fe is awesome. Mountains!

2. I got my own motel room. Score! This will come in very handy when I want to watch something on TV and I don't have to share the remote with my father, who, God love him, never watches what I want. And I can walk around wearing whatever I want. Or whatever I don't want. You know.

3. I really like hot tubs. In private courtyards. With a fireplace and a couch. Under the stars. Big enough to swim in. Awesome. Awesome. Oh, and I finally got to break in my new swimsuit.

4. Despite the fact that I'm not Catholic, I adore cathedrals. And I got to see an amazing one. And every now and then I need a reminder of how much Jesus suffered on the cross, and, frankly, no one does the blood and gore and pain of Christ like Catholics. The statue of Him on the cross in the chapel actually had REAL hair. That creeped me out a bit.

5. I got to see a lot of art. A lot. I didn't realize I'd missed it until I was wandering through the Georgia O'Keefe museum. And here's the thing. O'Keefe's works have been interpreted as expressions of her sexuality, and it turns out that's wrong! She hated that. And I didn't know that until this week. And the sad thing is, even knowing that, all I can see when I look at her abstract flower paintings? Lady parts. Sorry.

6. I had half a rack of lamb for dinner last night. And I was having trouble deciding between a few entrees. And then I realized I could make an awesome joke if I ordered the lamb. And I'm not ashamed to say that I got the half rack so I could send a picture with this tweet: "Mary had a little lamb...." HECK yeah.

7. I love wine. And my family loves wine as well. And sometimes we love it a lot. Not too much, but, well, a lot. Let's just say we had fun last night. And my mother is adorable when she has a few glasses. We're blaming the high altitude......

8. I was admiring some pretty jewelry yesterday. And my face was right next to the glass of the window. And I wanted a closer look. And.....you guessed it. SLAMMED my forehead into the glass. With a resounding gong. Yeah. I was totally that person who forgets a window is there and then knocks herself out trying to get a closer look. My father found it highly enjoyable. I told him he was a terrible person. As I was wiping the tears from my eyes from laughing so hard.

9. I have enjoyed Santa Fe so far. The city isn't for me. But an hour outside of the city? Oh my gosh. Wow. I had to scrape my forehead off of the car window. And the red rocks made me homesick.

10. I've been wearing my hipster glasses everywhere. Partly because I think they're fun. Partly to feel different. And partly because it kind of makes me laugh. Either way, I look like a huge nerd. And I like that right now. I'll go back to looking professional and put together when school starts again, but if I had my choice right now, it'd be shorts, V-necked T-shirts, air-dried hair, sandals, and hipster glasses on a regular basis.

Ok, maybe not hipster glasses all the time. Maybe just sometimes.

The beauty amid the pain

This last weekend I went to watch our basketball team play in the Sub-State tournament. It was an exciting game. I never thought I would enjoy basketball as much as I did, but I found out that I like it quite a bit. I think a lot of it had to do with watching our team. Sometimes those boys can be little snots in the classroom (but don't worry, I still love 'em), but on the court, they are great together. They love each other. They give to each other. They are family. 

We lost the game. It was heartbreaking. We all cried. I wanted to hug each one of them. I was so proud of them all. 

And have you ever noticed that sometimes there's something exquisitely, terribly beautiful about pain captured on film? I'm not taking credit for these pictures. They were taken by someone else. I merely photo-shopped them a bit. But man, these pictures really capture those moments after the final buzzer. And they are painful. And they are beautiful. 

And you are welcome to take them and use them as you please if you like the way they've been photo-shopped.

My 'yes' is on the table.

I said I would post, didn't I? Not sure what you're about to get, but let's figure it out together, hmm?

It's been an interesting month, folks. My poor little heart has had her ups and downs, and honestly, she's not used to this many downs. It's kind of a downer. Which.....makes sense.

But let's boil it down to one thing that I've been learning lately:

God's got it.

Oh, so simple, yet oh, so true.

Sometimes I feel like my head and heart have become a jumble of questions. The why?'s and the what if?'s and the huh?'s and the what-the-heck-are-you-doing?'s seem to be accumulating into one big pile that threatens to topple at any second.

Most of it has to do with my heart. Singleness. Timelines. Ugh. Things that I can't seem to stop wondering about and pondering and which I imagine would bore more of you to tears. Seriously? The girl is writing another post about her stinkin' heart? Can I stab my eyes out? Where'd I put that letter opener....


Ok, perhaps you're not that tired of hearing about my heart, but boy am I tired of thinking about it. And wondering about it. And chatting about it with friends. Honestly, my poor girls are the most incredible people in the world. All they ever hear is me yammering on about the struggles of my heart.

What does she struggle with? I wish I could tell you, gentle readers. I wish I could spill exact situations, intimate details, names and places, my secret thoughts and the terrible yearnings that keep me up at night. But alas (or thankfully), even I--the most confessional of people--know when to keep a lid on some things. I have learned to spill those things to perhaps three lucky/unlucky ladies. The rest of you get the somewhat diluted details. But you know what? It's not the details that are important. What's important is what I can write about.

What can I write about?

I can write about how good God is. How He's always got me in the right place. How He can take what looks like a hopeless situation and breathe life into it in a way I never knew before. How He can make hard conversations flow smoothly (even if they're still hard). How He can show me answers when I didn't think any were possible. How He can bolster my patience when I really want certain answers but they're not coming.

-

We had a forensics meet in Pratt this last weekend. After the meet we were all headed up to St. John to watch our basketball guys play in the Sub-State tournament. Well, we had about an hour to kill after grabbing a late lunch. What do we do?

The park, of course!

What does MB do?

Act like a 5 year-old, of course! Again.

Merry-go-rounds, swings, monkey bars, cherry drops, climbing trees, skipping stones, awkward nature hikes, enjoying running water, collecting shells.....little kid heaven.

Only thing is, as I'm sitting on the edge of the water watching my delightful students messing around on the other bank, one of my girls says to me, "Miss Martin, you are so cute! How are you not married yet?!"

Oh my darling girl. How often I have wondered this question to myself.

And finally, the next day a few pieces fell into place.

You know how I came to be in Ashland? Well, let me be the first to say that it was not my original choice, nor was I thrilled about the option when it was first presented to me. Hard to believe that now, but it's the truth. I came to the interview and was immediately freaked out. This place did not seem right. Too small. Too remote. Too.....much.

So I pull in every interview in Wichita I can. I call around. I peddle myself around like the cheapest hooker on South Broadway (yeah, not the greatest simile, but hey, if we're talking about Wichita . . .). I have impeccable references. A perfect GPA. I am charming, articulate, enthusiastic, hip yet professional, and very clear that I want to be in Wichita.

And....nothing. Nothing!

My friends are stunned. My cooperating teacher is flabbergasted. How is this possible? She's a perfect fit! How could no one call her back?!


I have no choice. I accept in Ashland. I cry after I make that call.

I pack up.

I move.

I settle.

I wander for the summer.

School begins. I meet my colleagues. I get comfortable in my room. Then I meet my students.

Oh. Oh. I get it now, God. You are so right. This is totally where I belong. This is totally what I'm supposed to be doing. I love this place. I love my part in it. I love these people. I really love these kids.

I hated what He did in my life, but I obeyed. Albeit, I did it kicking and screaming, but I said yes when He said DO THIS.

--

So. All that to say that I don't have answers or explanations for a lot of things right now. But I've said yes to Him in all of these situations. Granted, some of the situations took awhile. And if you think I came to Ashland with some kicking and screaming, let's just say that some of the recent kicking and screaming I've been doing could easily give that a run for its money.

--

Singleness is hard. It's good for a time, but does anyone really love singleness? Some may, but like the large majority of people I wasn't built for it. But God's asked me for singleness for some undisclosed length of time. I'm hoping it's not, you know, like ten years, but hey. It could be.

I've been hating it, but I realized after Pratt that it's just like Him sending me to Ashland.

God asked me to go into singleness. Just like I didn't want to leave Wichita, I didn't want to leave The Monolith. I really didn't want to leave The Monolith. It was safe there. It was familiar. Sure, it wasn't ideal or really encouraging my walk with God, but at least it wasn't hurting it. But No, God said. I'm sending you into singleness.

So I said yes.

And right now I feel like I'm in that sort of aimless stage where I've said my yes and I'm here but I'm not sure why yet. It hasn't been boring. My heart has reawakened and she's shown herself to be much more feisty, fickle, joyous, and pulled in strange directions than I ever thought she would be. And honestly, it feels good to be free for now, despite deeper desires. I can have fun. I can flirt again. I can make my own plans on my own timeline.

And I guess that's what I need right now. Because if I was ready for my man, God would bring him to me.

Guess I'm still settling into who I need to be for him. Guess he's still settling into who he needs to be for me. And I'm trusting that God will show us each other when we're ready for it.

'Cause I've already said yes to whatever God's got planned for me.

Hello my long, lost friends!

Oh my word my darlings. I cannot believe I have been away from you for so long.

I love you all.

I miss blogging.

My lappy is dead.

Stupid lappy.

I promise, promise, promise you that I will blog again soon.

Honestly.

At least I updated the look of the site. That's a nice change right?

Yeah, ok, I know. You want words. You want to know what's going on inside this brain of mine.

You know what? I'd love to know that too.

Hopefully I'll figure that out soon and I can let you all know here!

Hearts are not Hot Wheels

My friend led me to this song, and I am so grateful to her for it.

One, it's beautiful.

Two, it's a reminder that I have to be careful with my heart. She really wants to be captured, but sometimes she wants it so badly that she could let a man capture it who would use it up and then release it.

You know (and ladies, please feel free to chime in with an amen), I don't put my heart out to be caught and released. My heart is not part of the wildlife tagging program. I don't want a man to tag me, put me back out there, keep me on his radar, and pick me back up every three months for a check-up.

No girl does.

Pardon my phrasing, but if a lady is out there to hit it and quit it, ain't no way a man is seeing even a sliver of her heart. Hell no.

Right girls?

If my heart is out there to be caught, it better be for keeps. I'm not saying marriage. That's a lot. But she wants to be caught, kept, and learned until she's been tamed (and bravo to the man who does that-it'll take someone strong). Or until it's clear that's not who's meant to keep her.

Pardon me while I continue for a bit longer--we had an early release day, so I have extra time on my hands.

I know how good it feels to win someone's heart for the sake of winning it and NOT for the sake of keeping it. I felt wanted. I felt desired. I felt strong and powerful. And I'm not proud to admit it, but I used him.

It wasn't until years later that I realized just how wrong of me that was. That it's one thing to test the waters to see if he's a good fit. But it's another thing to know he's not one I truly want yet still flirt, cajole, whisper, and kiss (yes kiss).

I used him to pass my time.

He got hurt. Really hurt.

I'd like to say that I was able to apologize to him when I realized how badly I'd treated his heart. But, you see, I couldn't because we weren't friends anymore. He intentionally disappeared from me so I wouldn't hurt him anymore.

I still can't find him.

Why do I tell you all this, gentle readers? Well, boys and girls, it's partly because that's what I do here and partly because I hope this resonates with you in some way. We've all had our hearts touched by others and touched hearts ourselves. Some of our hearts have been mishandled. And some of us have handled the hearts of others poorly. Maybe, like me, you didn't know. I didn't think I was hurting his heart. We were having fun! He was smiling, happy, enjoying it!

I should have seen it. I wish I had.

He was too open with me. Too honest with me. Too available at all hours, too willing to drop his plans for mine, and too willing to share the deepest thoughts in his head. That wasn't just "for fun" folks. That's a boy who wanted me to keep his heart safe.

And I didn't.

He wanted me to treat it like a brand new dream car: maintained, polished, understood, and driven at maximum speed.

Instead I treated it like a Hot Wheel: fun, cute, and easy to toss aside while I played with my others.

My heart is not a Hot Wheel to be played with. Sure, she's fun, but she's fun because she's a sweet ride with all the bells and whistles. She's got some miles on her, but she's got a lot more to go.

--

In honor of that, this song (remember me mentioning a song at the beginning of the post? No? Well, it was a long time ago) perfectly illustrates what I'm talking about.

For those of you who like to play with Hot Wheels, please, please, please think about what you're doing. And for those of you who have been used, please, please, please know that your heart is precious and lovely and deserves to be loved. You're not disposable. You're lovely.

15 weeks until summer . . .

I said I was going to post this weekend. I promised. And the weekend is rapidly coming to a close. So it's post or consider myself a liar.

I'm not a liar.

Mostly because it's wrong but also because I'm bad at it. Ok, mostly because I'm bad at it. Thanks, God, for making me bad at it because I clearly lack the moral standards to do right for the sake of doing right.

The thing about saying I was going to post, however, is this:

I have no idea what to write.

My emotions have been all over the place this week.

I have gone from thinking the world of the young men and women about to enter real life to despair at the fact that they ALL have so much more growing up to do. Seriously. I was really spiraling on Thursday night, and that's rare for me. I actually had to go out and distract myself from the increasingly depressing thoughts swimming in my head.

I've giggled like an eight year old talking about her first crush with a girlfriend. The struggles of my heart lifted for a bit, and I had a chance to just enjoy chatting about boys with my friend. To have fun with the fact that I actually have crushes for the first time in a LONG time.

I have tried to help a friend going through a rough time, and run the gamut of emotions with that situation. Sympathy, pity, sorrow, frustration, exasperation, annoyance, concern. I want to help him, and I want to be there for him, but it's situations like this that show me how mean and cynical I can be sometimes. Seriously, without Jesus I would be quite mean to others.

My head and heart have been busy this week.

I've realized something.

Ok, one of my Spiritual gifts is discernment. I can see who people are at their core, what they need to grow in, and who they could potentially be.

This should be helpful in teaching because I can pinpoint things in students, help them grow, and know how to encourage them. However, sometimes my nature prompts me to overlook their faults. I just skip straight to the potential I see in them.

Naturally, they respond well to that, wouldn't you? If you were an 18 year old who's made his share of mistakes in life and no one ever lets you forget them, wouldn't you be grateful for someone new who doesn't know those things or judge you by them and sees only potential for greatness in you? Of course you would!

And, seriously, my students could be such incredible men and women.

But then a failing or a fault or a past mistake I never knew about becomes clear to me. I find myself saddened or disappointed (which is what was going on this Thursday), and I begin to lose faith in that student.

And that's awful, frankly. That mistake has always been there, but I just didn't know about it. That student is the same student she was five minutes ago BEFORE I knew about this stumbling point in her life. Why should I suddenly doubt her potential or ability?

I shouldn't, duh.

I should instead admire the changes she HAS made. I should push him to make more. I should challenge him to ask himself what he really wants to be in life. I should always expect the absolute best out of her.

...

In other news, it felt so, so, so good to just run around and chill with a friend last night. Someone in my age range. Someone I can relate to and want to talk to. I really needed that.

And I gave a lot of hugs this weekend. It felt good, honestly.

And I really like backs. Big, strong backs.

Oh, and apple butter on toast is divine.

Oh, and I used to only be attracted to brown eyes. I am now attracted to blue eyes as well.

Oh, and an extremely funny and cute movie is one called Barry Munday. It's about a man who loses his balls in an accident and then discovers he's going to have a child. So great.

...

All right, I think that covers everything I promised.

Hold your rootin' tootin' horses!

Dear rabid readers:

I will post this weekend.

In the meantime, y'all just need to chill out!

And I think a little part of my soul just died because I said y'all.

Not to offend or anything . . . but you know. Sometimes that's what I do here.

Or maybe all of the congestion in my head had impaired my ability to be sweet and kind.

Who knows?

Either way, the next post will likely involve tales from a wheezing 20-something, my switch to blue eyes, the goodness of apple butter, and a man with no balls.

Yes, you heard me.

Now I've definitely offended.

Mission: accomplished.

Until then my darlings, my Creepers, and passers-by.

I'm going to get sleeves...

Ready for something else? Hopefully.

I've always been fascinated by tattoos. Do I have any? No. Do I want any? Perhaps.

All I know is that I find many of them beautiful and interesting. Like these at Dare Devil Tattoo in New York City.

Check them out. Love them. It's like someone painted these on with a beautiful brush. Like artwork permanently affixed to your skin.

I just might go for something like that.

Apparently I have about five months to decide....

In other news, I went to the doctor yesterday and now I'm on about three different kinds of medication. Feelin' kind of weird...

But the great, great thing is that the doctor proved I'm down about 20 pounds from when I first came down here. Would you believe it? It's amazing to me too.

Keep 'em coming!

A quick post...

In case you all weren't aware, I've been pretty sick. Nasty and gross. Ick.

Today marks my third absence from school because of it.

I hate medicine. I am not a fan of going to the doctor. Clinics make me feel strange, and it always smells way too clean in them.

But I am going and braving my fear. For my kids. So they don't pine away for me.

And so I don't, you know, die?

Ah, sometimes my jokes are just for me. But if you've watched a certain Taylor Mali video then you got the joke. And probably hated the irony of my statement.

In other words, hopefully I will be on medication this afternoon and out of the land of the walking dead....

.....and zombies. Awesome.

This, THIS, is why I love poetry . . .

You know, I tell students all the time that poetry is not merely about the visual. It has to be heard. I has to be performed.

And when it's done well, dear Lord. It changes mind, hearts, and souls. It emboldens, it soothes, it swoons, it enrages.

This woman is amazing. This poem is amazing.

Please be aware, she does drop one F-bomb. If you would like to see it without that word, please watch this version here.

Otherwise, I think every single woman in the world should watch this once a day.

I want to be Spirit stronger . . .

Oh my rabid readers, I've missed you. This is a long one, you ready?

Today we had a five day school week. Wait, you may say. Don't all schools always have a five day week? Silly reader, please try to keep up with my life. Remember? My school is on a four day week. Yes, I've reminded you yet again that you need to be jealous of my life.

Back to the point. Why was it a five day week? Well, because it was homecoming this week. Themed spirit days, the excuse to be silly and dumb, a home game to look forward to, and a visit from a very dear friend of mine? What a great week, right?

Yeah, well, don't get ahead of yourselves my dears. Let me recount the last five days for you.

It begins well enough. Monday and Tuesday, pretty good days. Normal. Uneventful. I dress loudly for Clash Day on Monday. I look awesome for Rock Star Day on Tuesday [just check out that pic!]. I listen to rap with my sophomores for half an hour [for our poetry unit] on Tuesday. And shortly after teaching him how to Dougie [you heard me--want to learn?], I have this conversation with Tubby:

Me: G, why aren't you dressed up for Spirit Week?
G:  I'm not a Spirit Weeker, Miss Martin.
Me:  You're not a Spirit Weeker?
G:  No. I'm a Spirit Stronger.

Ah, loved it. I was a little more tired than normal that night, but I figured it was fine.

No. It wasn't.

I woke up the next morning feeling bad. Not terrible, just bad. Bad enough for a sick day, though. Felt a little better during the day . . . but then it was like someone dropped a ton of bricks on my head. Or a gorilla. Or the Chrysler Building. Then a cough. Then aches. Then a 101.5 fever. Took a second sick day--very unusual for me. I left my bed to do three things that day, and this is how long they took:

1. Relieve myself [sorry, am I embarrassing you?]:
5 minutes

2. Shower [because let's face it, the only thing worse than being sick is feeling disgusting and sick]:
20 minutes

3. Drink some chicken broth and eat some rice [regretted both immediately]:
20 minutes

There you go. Other than that, I was in my overly large, soft, and heated bed all day long. By the end of that second day I hated everything about that bed. Especially the fact that I needed the heated blanket cranked up: I'd shiver violently without it, but ugh, I would sweat like crazy with it [no, thank you 101.5 degree fever!]. Gross.

You hanging in there with me, readers? Sorry, sickness isn't pretty.

Thank the Lord I wake up yesterday morning cool and clammy. Good clammy. Like, fever broke clammy. Not only am I grateful that I can make it to school, I'm doubly excited because that means my dear friend, Kristy, can still come see me.

The day was an interesting mix. Though my fever was gone, I still felt pretty awful. But then again, I was back at school cracking jokes with Tubby. I had to miss my seniors, but I had a great day with my other kids [plus, I actually got good time in with a lot of my seniors yesterday anyway]. I had no lesson plans ready due to the sickness, but just hanging out in 7th hour was a pretty great time. I had an amazing meal prepped for Kristy and I, but I felt too ill to really enjoy it. My voice was slowly leaving me, but I got asked to announce the Homecoming candidates--and even got to announce the winners.

The day's verdict: The fun parts of the day were much more fun than the bad parts of the day were bad.


Make sense? No? Great.

Kristy then taught me how to play a game after the basketball games [which our guys won, and our girls almost did--most exciting girls game yet!]. I was the winner. Or I could have been the loser. It depends on how you look at the game. Either way, we had fun!

After that, and some hemming and hawing, we decided to check out the dance. It wasn't much, to say the least. Sparsely attended. That's not to say I didn't have fun, however. Those of you who know my are very aware that loud dance music suddenly whisks away all pain, fear, and inhibition in me. Well, ok, not all inhibition.

Let's just say I'm looking forward to Prom, which is when I've decided I can dance.

My pal D and I are going to tear it up. 


A rather random ending, I know, but I feel this post has gone on long enough, and I need to get some stuff done today. Also, I need to hack up with gravel that is currently sitting in my lungs.

YES.

When life gives you mountains . . .

So my last ones were funny.

This one is heartbreaking. Beautiful. It is truth.

Sometimes life gives you more than lemons. Life gives you boulders. Mountains. You can't make lemonade out of mountains, silly. So what do you do? The weight of sadness, loneliness, longing, guilt, desperation, or heartbreak sits on your back and you can't even lift your head.

That's where Jesus comes in. Remember singing this song in Sunday school as a little kid? Well, even when you're chained by the things above it's still truth.

And sometimes all you can do is repeat it to yourself over and over and pray with all your might that it will finally sink in and take hold of your heart. Because sometimes you just don't believe it.

And that's life. You're not a bad person. You're not failing God. You're not failing others. Just because it's truth doesn't make it easy. The fact that it's truth makes it hard. Especially when you're under the weight.

But even when you can't feel it, knowing there's real truth out there can help you put your hands against the ground, and hopefully soon you'll be able to finally push yourself up and stand in that truth.



A caveat for you all: I'm not currently in the depths of despair, but I know people who either are or are close. This is for them.

Something fun to kick off the weekend

Nothing special today. Just a bit of awesomeness.

Enjoy. Laugh. Rinse. Repeat!


I am going to learn this. Not kidding.



Love this!

"Because when I leave I'm not making any concrete plans to return back to my point of origin."

It's rap, not crap . . .

Ok. Here it is. I'm putting myself out there. Ready?

I love rap.

Phew! There, I said it. I feel better!

You may laugh or shake your head, but those who first meet me would never assume that I love rap. That I could listen to Eminem for hours because the intensity of his voice is incredible. That I get goosebumps when I hear a sick hook on a Chris Brown song [And yes, I said sick hook. Deal with it.]. That I listen to Missy at least once a day.

Things I love about rap:
1. Beats, beats, and beats. Oh, and also beats.
2. The human voice. Rap is music, people, seriously. These artists are amazing with their flow. Eminem's intensity. Luda's deep timbre [Ha, look at me use a word like timbre when talking about rap!]. Missy's screech.
3. The rhymes. I'm a poetry junkie. Music that is sung is beautiful. I love it. I love singing it. But rap allows freedom, flow, and the use of words and rhyme in a way that a melody doesn't.

What's hard about liking rap?
1. The content.

I'm a lady who loves Jesus. And, you know, I can enjoy the way Luda's voice sounds and the beats he has produced all I want, but that's not going to take all the sex out of his lyrics.

I'm not preaching, ok? I'm just talking about myself. And I know that for me, listening to "Work It" by Missy Elliot makes me want to dance, but it also makes me want a lot of things I can't have yet. And I've lived in the world. I've been places that have not honored Christ. I can't listen to this music and claim ignorance of what she's talking about. I know exactly what she's getting at all too well.

Ok, so take all that. And put it with this:

I once heard a radio commentator say that the Christian version of things should just put a "C" in front of them, so you can know it's Christian.

This would mean that Christian rap would be called Crap.

And at the time? I totally agreed with him. I thought, Christians can't make good rap? They're not hip enough. They don't understand culture. Their beats and hooks will always be behind.

Fast forward to now. There are artists who get it. They know what rap is. They don't shy away from it. They just make their content honor God. Love it.

If you like rap, take a listen to these. If you like Christ, take a listen to these. Expand your horizon. You might enjoy it.




Have you heard Lecrae before? He is a solid, solid man.




And you know, sometimes a Christian group doesn't have to have Jesus's name in every song. They can have fun too! My friend just got married, and this song was played at her reception. So fun! Oh, and they're called Grits not Gritz.




Another Lecrae. So true. I can play the background. Although [watch out, snide MB coming out here] for reals, what is up with C-Lite's outfit? The hat? Really?

-

And one last one for fun. I want a convertible so I can be ridin' with my top down, listenin' to this Jesus Muzik.







So. What do you think?

Snow day!!

Two posts in less than 24 hours? What is this nonsense?

Well, dear readers, this is me with extra time on my hands in the afternoon because of a snow day! And you know what? Today was actually a pretty fun day at school. I got to sleep in and go late. I got to start my day off with a pretty great [albeit cranky--at first] group of kids, and i only had to teach three hours before it was time to go home.

I've been thinking about what I'll do when my first batch of seniors graduates. Not going to lie, I think it'll be pretty hard. It's very natural that I would find them such a special class, for they're my first seniors. Unique circumstances [read: a terrible year and little love lost between them and their teacher last year] have also made them much more prone to create relationship with me. Granted, they can be sneaky, but I can also be demanding. Overall, however, I'm going to have trouble.

I had an excellent conversation with a friend over the weekend. He's dealt with those same feelings before and gave me some great warnings and encouragements. The most surprising warning?

Don't detach.

Apparently after Spring Break I'll find myself wanting to detach from my seniors. To spare myself the emotional pain that will come when they have to leave. I never thought I might do that, but now that I think about it, I could see it happening.

Why?

I'm well aware of the fact that some of my seniors would love to call me their friend. And, if I'm honest, I'd love to call myself their friend as well. But we don't do that. And when they graduate, and it's no longer against Miss M's rules [which some of them find dumb], I'm sure we'll call each other friends--might be weird at first, but it'll work.

And then they're going to leave me.

Oh my word, how pathetic does that sound? But it's totally true. We'll call each other friends, but how much would we really be friends? That's not to say that I'd keep myself above them or refuse to talk or hang out. And that's not to say that some of them won't want to hang out with me. It's just different when you go off to school. Friends at home are still friends, but friends made in college and very different from friends made in high school. Trust me, I would know. I'm sure many of you know exactly what I'm talking about as well.

Therefore, I can now see why I would be tempted to disengage. It's emotionally difficult when they graduate, yes, but it's ten times worse when these young people I have grown to love leave. I'm so excited for them. They will grow, and they will actually change into the men and women they've dreamed of being. Mostly. Hopefully. But my darn selfish heart wants to keep them, too.

I want to keep the laughter in class. I want to keep the discussions--both deep and stupid. I want to keep the arguments and shouting. I want to keep the feeling of a captive audience with their eyes widening when I tell them something particularly juicy. I want to keep the embarrassments and the discomforts.

I know next year will be great. I know the next class will be special to me, too. But I'm a first year. And to me, the only ones I know are the ones I have now. And I love them dearly.

Here's a little taste of why I love them so much:

We wrote epigrams in class today. Short, sweet musings on life. Some of them were funny, some of them were deep [and some both], and some were . . . special. Either way, here's just a tiny peek into why I love these young adults and love my job.

A's Epigram [I like this one because it's such a heart check for those of us who use our faith to judge others.]
To be judged is never pleasing,
It always ends in others teasing,
Yet we always find the faults of people,
Simply because they're not under the steeple.

C's Epigram [I enjoy the contrast between the lameness of Mankind and the spirit of Mankind.]
The body of man is often lame,
The lame man's walk is that of shame,
But Man's spirit, one can never take,
His soul, one cannot break.

K's Epigram [So much truth in this one. And the last line rocks. I want to steal it!]
Master of reason clothed in ignorance,
Climbing his way down by one's own preference.
Wishing for that which is painfully good,
Refusing the things he knows that he should.
He struggles to control, a useless hunt,
But God's got his back, his side, his front.

R's Epigram [This one is very true, and it's also very fun. I like that.]
People are like the wind, some like a breeze,
Some people are a hurricane, some a small sneeze,
Some are consistent, and strong they blow,
Others are fickle, they ebb and flow.

B's Epigram [This one is just cheeky, and I couldn't resist posting it.]
If you want to stay fit,
You cannot just sit.
So muster up some grit
And grab your balls and a mitt. [Yep]


-

That's pretty clear, right? Love them.

My collage...

We made collages that show who we are in Creative Writing. This is mine.

Clockwise from the top:

Apples:
This, this is what I wait for.
Song of Solomon 2: 3-7
"³ Like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my beloved among the young men. I delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste. ⁴ Let him lead me to the banquet hall, and let his banner over me be love. ⁵ Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples, for I am faint with love. ⁶ His left arm is under my head, and his right arm embraces me. ⁷ Daughters of Jerusalem, I charge you by the gazelles and by the does of the field: Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires."

Whew, I need to catch my breath a little after that!

Green Mountains:
I am still young and green, but I've been built into by now. I've been sculpted a bit, in ways both beautiful and scarring. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I know it's part of who I am now.

A Clear "i":
I live my life transparently both here and with the people in my life. Remember that post that got people all up in arms? Yeah. No matter what, though, I'll always love and value blinding, painful, and absolute honesty. Coy is cute, vague is alluring, but honesty sticks. For reals.

Pomegranate:
An ancient Christian symbol of the fullness of Christ's suffering and resurrection. The transparency of the i comes from this, 'cause, uh, otherwise I wouldn't do it.

Blue Silk:
I am precious and intricately woven. A lot of things in my life [both people and situations] have done quite a number on my heart to make me constantly doubt that. From an offhanded comment made when I was 12 to years of prolonged appearance-anxiety fueled by a man [and that's not to say it was his fault. I really believe that the combination of my insecurities with his particular expectations were doomed from the outset] I felt uncomfortable in my skin for 25 years. It's still a work in progress, but now I always see more good than bad, and some days, if I'm really honest, there are times I look in the mirror and think Man, God. Good job. Is that vain? It probably is. Crap.

Slats and Lines:
Winter is my time. This was a painting I found in a magazine that represented the season of winter. Interestingly, I find fall to be my favorite season, but I was born in the winter. I grow the most in the winter. And I always emerge from the winter softer, newer, and ready for wiser. And I'm hoping that trend continues.

Blue Butterfly:
Not only do I emerge from the literal winter as a new woman, I've also emerged from a figurative winter recently. Now, this winter I've come from was not barren, dead, or cold--that's not the kind of winter I'm talking about. I'm talking about a time of challenge, of growth, of . . . oh my word, could I sound any more pretentious and metaphorical? You get the picture right, gentle reader? Of course you do! You're smart! You don't need to sit here and listen to me wax on poetic!

Paints:
The meaning of this is twofold:
1. I like color.
2. I like to put things in ROYGBIV order. Everywhere. All the time. If you look for it, you'll notice it.

Keri Strug:
What a moment of sacrifice and determination. I watched this live. It was amazing, and I've never forgotten it. She knew what needed to be done, and it wasn't about her. It wasn't for her own glory. It was for the glory of others. This is what I want my legacy to look like. And this is hard for me, the girl whose parents once bought her a T-shirt that said It's All About Me just for the heck of it. Yeah. I was that girl. I'm trying not to know her anymore.

Music:
Any moment a note a passing through my lips is a moment of incandescent joy. Anytime my fingers rest on the keys of a real piano [not a keyboard, mind you. Those aren't keys, psh] I feel a thrill of possibility, and my throat tingles in anticipation. I live to sing.

"Maturity is relative."
That pretty much explains itself, right?