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?