March 30, 2018:Anxiety and August

I don’t have a lot to say today. I was thinking hard all day long about what I wanted to write about. What’s funny is that I had this particular blog planned for a long time. It was actually the one I was leading up to. Then I changed my mind as I started to plan them out a little more and decided on a different ending post for tomorrow.

I wanted to talk about buying my first house.

But the honest truth is that I don’t have a heck of a lot to say about it. I still get a lot of questions about how I’m liking it. My usual answer is, “ask me again in a year.”

The problem is that large financial decisions put me into a sort of fight or flight mode, where survival is my primary goal. In the past the largest financial decision I had made were for my cars. And at the time I felt like I was signing my life away. I really don’t like having debt. I don’t like owing people…anything. It makes my nerves raw.

While there are defiantly aspects to owning a house that I’m enjoying there are just as many that put me on edge.

• I love that I get to have pets again! But, I’m going to have to invest in a better fence that he can’t dig under…
• I love that I get to put holes in the wall and not worry about rules to decorating. But I have to keep in mind that I might want to sell it some day…
• I love that I get to have a garden. But I have soul say in yard maintenance….

With every good there seems to be and equal worry. I’m hoping that when August (the one year mark) rolls around, I’ll feel more secure in my choice to buy a home. For now I’ll just have to enjoy the good parts and try not to worry so much.

 

March 29, 2018: Graduates and Girls

As a freshly minted graduate, I was ready for college. I didn’t know if I was actually going to succeed or if I’d fall flat on my butt.  But I knew, not matter what I was ready for the next step. (I actually miss having that sort of certainty.)

There were two primary concerns, on my part, about college. One, did I have the ability to compete, academically. Two, could I live in a dorm room with 50 plus girls. I think I might have been less confident about the latter than the former.

Not only would it be my first experience living outside my home but it would also be my first experience living with all girls.

Kindergarten through senior year I always felt most comfortable around guys. I had a brother. My father has 2 brothers and one sister. My mother has two brothers. I have 8 male cousins and only 3 female (thats on both sides). (All of those numbers I mean by blood… not married in.) So, even most of my extended family is male. At school I always made quicker and deeper friendships with guys.

While I did have girl friends, I had much fewer and our relationships often spent more time on the rocks than on solid ground. So, I was a bit nervous about living amongst a horde of them. I wont lie and say I made the best of friends with everyone. But, I was surprised to find how much fun it was to share my life with a close pack of females.

I’m also surprised that the friendships I developed at college have been so lasting. After my first or second year out of high school I lost touch with most of my high school. I’m eight years out from college and am still very close to my college friends, even those who live 10 hours or more away.

I’m also blessed by my experience. I think it taught me a lot about how to relate with women (which should come naturally, as I am one, but it doesn’t). I really believe that God had a hand in it, because even I didn’t know at that time that I would one day be working in a female dominated profession. I think without that experience I’d find it a lot more difficult to be a team player/co teacher.

March 28, 2018: Planes and Plotting

It’s kind of baffling to me that so many of my students have been on planes or cruise liners. I was actually the first person in my family to fly on a plane, and I didn’t get the chance until I was 22.

The truth is I love to travel. It feeds into my art and historical fascinations. I’ve already mentioned that I don’t have a loving relationship with water. So, unlike the majority if I am going to take a trip somewhere I don’t want to spend it on a beach. No, I’d much rather experience the local culture, eat the cuisine, stop by a few art galleries or historical tours. Thats MY idea of fun.

My family didn’t really do family trips. I did get to take a trip out to Wyoming (for a family reunion), and a trip to some historical battle fields once. Every where that I HAD gone was a road trip.

The summer of my 22 year of life my best friend Chelsea had taken an internship with a church plant in New York, New York. I missed her terribly. Her mother and I plotted together to visit her near the end of her time there.

To say I was excited was an understatement. I had never had a chance to visit a place like New York. It wasn’t so much the city life that I was stoked to experience (I know who I am and that’s a wide open spaces kind of girl). I was thrilled to be visiting one of the most popular cities in the world, experiencing the collective identity of so many cultures crammed into such a small space. A city of so much historical significance where more than a few american icon symbols were exhibited. A city where art of any shape and size wasn’t just enjoyed but embraced. And a city that had countless food options!

Thankfully Ginger (Chelsea’s mom) took the reigns when it came to booking the flight and hotel. Having been ignorant I would have gotten myself into some trouble with out help. I might have been able to book the flight but I would have gotten kidnaped in St. Louis Lambert airport (not to mention Laguardia)! That place, to a newbie, is terrifying!!!

I have to say, it was the airport more than the plane that had my anxiety spiking. I withheld judgement about being in a flying form of transportation. I didn’t THINK it would bother me (as I actually kind of love heights)  but you never know about some things until your knee deep in them! I was right though, actually flying was thrilling. There’s just something about looking DOWN on clouds that will always enchant and bewitch me, no matter how old I get.

We successfully surprised Chelsea. She knew her mom was coming but we kept my tagging along a secret until she walked into the hotel room to pick up Ginger. That moment, the shock and joy of her enthusiasm to see me,  was my favorite out of the three days there.

While I had a blast exploring the city my country roots stayed firm. The second I got back to Missouri I stretched out my arms took in a lung full of (slightly fertilizer scented) air and spun around  on my toes. Having space to breath and stretch had been sourly missed while swimming through the sea of humanity that is NYC.

I’d say I caught the travel bug. The next year I found myself signing up for a class at Southern that’s final assignment was a two week trip to China. I went from a 22 year old who had never flown before to a 23 year old international traveler plane hopping half way around the globe, in a span of 8 months.

I don’t know what my next trip will be, but I can’t wait!!

March 27, 2018: Seasons and Sentiment

I was kind of at a loss for what to write about today. But, something caught the corner of my eye a christmas ornament wreath. As I’ve already confessed I often have multiple projects going on at one time. They are usually spread out all over the place. Sometimes I get side tracked and forget about them.

Which is why I have a christmas wreath in my bedroom in march.  I had grand plans of fixing it to hang up this year… but I got side tracked. So, there it sits… probably until summer, broken and waiting to shine again.

Anyway, this got me to thinking about Christmas. I have to admit (even though some people will think less of me) Christmas is NOT my favorite holiday. I like the festiveness of people around the holiday. But the day itself I could take or leave.

I’ve felt that way for most of my life. I love the time with friends and family but I’m not really a gifts person (I’m more for acts of service or quality time).

Even though all of this is true there is a point, somewhere in your life span, that even the festiveness of Christmas looses its luster. I think it’s the point that we finally tip over into adulthood. Something about the event seems more like an obligation than a celebration. Maybe that’s not true for everybody. Who knows, maybe its just me.

But I remember that my tipping point was junior year in high school. To be totally honest I just wanted to skip it. The holiday had lost its alure for me. Even after I learned the truth about our favorite rosy cheeked saint, I still loved the experience.  Then that winter of 2004 things shifted off their axis and it just wasn’t the same any more.

I know this is kind of a bummer post. But I’ll end with a happy note. A few years later my nice and nephew came into the picture. Seeing their love and wonder sparked some of my childhood sentiment, but in a new and different way.

… and just a hint. My favorite holiday I’ll be able to blog about soon! 😉

March 26, 2018: Sleep and Seven A.M.

I have a confession.

I’ve waited to long to write todays post. In all honesty I got wrapped up in getting back into the school grove that I sort of wasted time.

As I sit on my bed listening to the rain and glaring at a screen that is incongruously bright against the black of my room there is only one thing on my mind, sleep. And, I’ve decided it is sleep that I am going to write about. (As it’s the only thing I can concentrate on at the moment.)

As a child I detested sleeping. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was convinced that all the best things happened when I was asleep. That grown ups were sending me off to bed so that I would purposely miss out on them.

Once I was sent to bed and about 30 minutes later got out, walked across the house and downstairs to the basement. Perched on the bottom step looking out at my parents having a game night with their friends I demanded a glass of water. My mother promptly told me to go back to be. See the rule when I was growing up was that you could ask to go to the bathroom or to get a glass of water before you were in bed. But, once you were there you were expected to stay unless it was an emergency (which was pretty much death, sickness, or burglary).

I’m not sure what I snapped back at my mom but I know it was rude, and I knew the minute it left my mouth I was going to get in big trouble. The other thing you should know about my family is that my dad is a pretty even keel guy most of the time but he has certain triggers. Growing up the number one trigger I pulled was disrespecting my mom. I was very mouthy, particularly to her. Next thing I know dad is out of the chair and haling me up the stairs. Let’s just leave it at my parents are not anti corporeal punishment and were thorough enough in it that this was only once of twice that I remember it happening.

Needless to say, I avoided sleeping even to my own detriment. Sunday’s were family nap days. My mom and dad would pass out as soon as we got home from church. Even my brother, seven and a half years my senior, would take a snooze. I would be zombie tired,  but I’d fight with ever last ounce of my will power to stay awake. I was truly convinced that I’d have a sleeping by the tree on christmas eve moment, and I’d catch some one awake doing something awesome.

Fast forward to my freshman year in college. The college schedule is weird. It took me a lot to get used to. At OCC one of your requirements is to attend chapel. Even though it’s not at an absurdly early hour it always hit at my sleepiest moments (I think it was actually the 7 AM class that made me so tired during chapel). I had been in school for about two weeks. And finally one day after coming back from Chapel, I broke down and gave in. I didn’t have another class for two or three hours.

I laid down on my bed and PASSED OUT COLD. It was the most AMAZING thing I had ever experienced in my whole life. I after waking to the alarm I set (one that I actually didn’t want to kill when I heard it) I texted my parents, “Sleep…I get it now!” The responded with something like, “Welcome to the wonders of college.”

And that was the first time I loved napping.

March 25, 2018: Phones and Parents

“Texting wasn’t always easy. In my day you had to work for it. You had to want it. You need an S? You better click that 7 button FOUR times!”

-Meme Author Unknown 

My first phone.

I think one of my favorite things to tell my students is that cell phones weren’t REALLY a thing when I was a kid. It’s true, they did exist but really they were more like a cordless house phone. (That was a difficult concept to convey to the kids…I had to show them a picture.) Life without immediate access to a phone is kind of unfathomable to kids these days.

Cell phones were just becoming popular. Quite a few kids in my class were starting to get them. I stuck to the classics the first time around and tried to convince my parents that  needed one because everyone else had one. As I’m sure you’re not surprised, it didn’t work.

I had just recently started driving and had gotten lost when I went to visit a friend in a town, about an hour away (in Eminence, MO). The town is hidden among the tangled branches of the Mark Twain National Forest. There are no strait roads into town and most of them are precariously narrow and curve around the steep edges of cliff and hill faces. When I got home much later than I should have I had a bright idea.

I eventually convinced my folks it was a good idea so they could always get ahold of me, especially important as a new driver. I got my first phone when I was 16. It was one of those super popular Nokia brick models. My parents actually got those cool flip phones.When I asked why they didn’t get the same for me, my mother responded she thought I’d like the Nokia better because it had games on it.

It was a great phone that lasted me at least a couple of months. I accidentally drowned it in grape juice. I know that doesn’t sound like an accidental situation (it took a lot of convincing to prove that was an accident to my mom). My second cellphone came in that same year. It was still a Nokia but this time it was a flip phone with a camera (a fairly new concept) with an SD card insert to store photos on!

Even when I find myself staring at my phone for the zillionth minute. In fact that’s when I hate it the most. I wish we lived in a world where it wasn’t a necessary.It’s funny. To think back on it, I wanted that phone SOOO bad. Now that I’ve had one for the last *cough* years I’d do go back and convince everyone I knew that it was a bad idea. I really hate my phone.

 

March 24, 2018: Memories and Movies

I love movies. I may or may not be a movie-aholic. It may have been my love of movies that eventually cemented my love of reading (the comparison factor).

I really had thought I had seen an average number of movies.  Turns out that for pre-streaming days I had actually seen many more than the norm. This realization kicked in when I went into a video rental (aww, remember those, that dates me) with my friend Chelsea in college. She kept pointing to movie after movie asking if I thought it would be good. I had already seen all but one she had pointed to in the entire store.

I’m also a movie re-watcher. I didn’t realize that some people didn’t enjoy this until I lived with my friend Bethany for a few years. She actually is kind of annoyed by this habit of mine. I don’t think she would be if it wasn’t that I can re-watch movies right after I’ve seen them (granted…only if I liked the movie). She preferred if I rewatched it there was a significant amount of time between each viewing.

I also really love going to the theater. Some of my best memories are going to the theater to see movies. There is just something about the big screen, overly loud speakers, and cheap (actually expensive food). I’ve also been lucky enough that both of the primary areas I’ve lived (Houston and the Joplin area) had out door movie theaters. I LOVE out door theaters because they combine so many of my favorite things; movies, outdoors, spring/summer nights, cozy blankets, theater food.

I love movies that are deep and make me reevaluate life.(Butterfly Effect had me thinking for months as a High schooler.) I love movies that are like stepping into an entirely different world, one that can only really be understood through film. I like movies that are a waste of time but you get away from the stress of your own life and laugh for an hour or so.

I was thinking of all of this on Wednesday. I went out with friends to the theater in Pittsburg, KS. We saw a Wrinkle in Time. This is one of my favorite junior novels of all time. I sort of read it by chance in a Children Literature class. We had to read 100 books and a certain percentage had to be award winners. I randomly picked a book out of the library (not an award winner) and it kept referencing A Wrinkle in Time. I didn’t understand the comments, looked into the book, found out it was an award winner, read it, fell in LOVE.

As I sat through the previews (which sadly did NOT excite me) I tried to think back to my first experience in a movie theater.  My mother may correct me later but the first one I can remember was Pocahontas. I remember being REALLY into learning about my native american heritage at the time (I think we were doing presentations in school). The movie came out around the same time and my mom told me a quick version of the story it was based on. I really really wanted to see it.

I must have been talking about it a lot because my Aunt decided to take me as a birthday present. But not before my mother had already taken me. I remember I didn’t want to hurt my aunts feelings, and I really wanted to see it again, so I didn’t tell her I had already seen it.

I fell for a lot of things in that experience. Disney movies for instance, my parents started buying me at least one a year for either my birthday or Christmas (I still own most of the VHS’s…if they still work). Celebrations at the movies, most of my birthday’s I request to go to the movies. The movie theater, it may be the most ridiculously expensive hobby but it makes me happy.

March 23, 2018: Hair and Highlights

“You have to have fun with hair. It’s a great accessory.”

-Serge Normant 

I read something online today about a woman who couldn’t remember what her original hair color was. I have to admit I’m guilty of this.

The truth is that hair maintenance is one of my indulgences… on the girl side of things.  I’m not a huge fan of manicures or pedicures. I do a lot of labor with my hands and ruin my nails frequently, and I have a hard time with people touching my feet. And makeup, I wear it, but it’s never been something I’ve really enjoyed.

My hair though… for some reason taking an hour out of my day and have my hair washed, cut and combed is one of the most relaxing things after a few long weeks.

The first time I colored my hair I was a sophomore in high school. I picked this really pretty auburn Loral box color. I had done highlights in the salon (with that horrible pull through cap thing) for a while before that. It was never a very dramatic shift, just a shade or two different.

The dye from the box might have said auburn, but it was black. Black as midnight with no moon. My mother got a fair portion on my forehead which of corse died my skin. It was an . . . interesting look for me. Thankfully, after a few days it toned down considerably.

I continued to experiment with box dyes for the next several years. It was fun. Something new and different, not too out there.  I liked the somewhat dramatic results.

After I started a salaried job I started including it in my hair appointment ritual, no more box dyes. It’s still one of the most relaxing things. I sit there in my chair, have a little chat, enjoy someone “playing” with my hair, read while the dye sets, then they was my hair and style it. Having a professional attend to the coloring is much better than box dye!

Over the years I’ve started to have a little more fun with the colors. I now take summers to play around with some wild colors; fire red, blue, green. My favorite so far has been purple.

Up next?

…Mauve.

Gotta’ love the 21’s century.

 

March 22, 2018: Psychology and Personality

The first time I understood myself.

Psychology is what some people call a pseudoscience. This means that they believe its practice to mimic science but not actually be scientific. As a great lover, learner and practitioner of psychology I will say this. It’s a bit like the ocean. The human mind, much like the ocean, is abundant in information of which we are only cracking the surface of.

Perhaps one of my favorite aspects of psychology is the discussion of personality. I’m a little odd and LOVE taking new and different personality tests. Each one is set up and functions a little differently. Each one has different results and is testing for different things.

The FIRST time I took a personality test was in a Psychology class at OCC, with Peter Buckland. It was the Myers Briggs, probably the most well known and popular. My results were INTP. If you’ve never taken it before let me explain the basics. Myers Briggs tests four areas; introversion and extroversion, sensing and intuition, thinking and feeling, judging and perceiving.

There are those that think, based on your results you are one thing and not the other. So for instance, as an INTP, I am an intuitive introvert who has the ability to perceive through my thinking. Therefore I am not an extrovert who possess the skills of sensing, feeling and judging.

Really, this isn’t the case. I can be or possess those qualities but they are not dominate. It’s not a one or the other kind of thing, people don’t work that way.

I remember that when I got the results back one of the descriptions talked about INTP’s often struggle with empathy. A light bulb sort of went off, that was something that was true of me. It wasn’t that I didn’t posses the ability to empathize, it was just a struggle to find empathy in a situation that my logic took over.

As I kept reading I saw more and more things that seemed to hit the nail on the head. I saw myself through another pair eyes, one that not only saw but interpreted. Now, not everything was right on the money. Why? Because I’m an individual. I am the only me out there. And without knowing me personally there is no way to get it all right.

I think that moment was the one in which I found a true interest in Psychology. I liked that there was something out there that could not only help me to understand myself but understand the people around me. As I took more classes in it I actually found my empathy growing, I started seeing things in new ways with a wider perspective.

I eventually decided to continue following the path of psychology and pursued a masters in it.  I still find it as fascinating now as I at that very first psychology test.

March 21, 2018: Respite and Refuge

“Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” 
― Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island

“Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life.” 
― Pablo Picasso

Some of you (who ever is reading this) may have noticed that I like art. Okay, I love art. I always remember loving art, well before I could even scratch the surface of it.

• I love how art can be personal to the artist and subjective to the viewer.
• I love that art exists in an ever expanding list of ways.
• I love that art isn’t just about technical skill (something not all of us have) but emotion (something all of of have).
• I love that art inspires.
• I love that what is beautiful and moving to one person may not be to everyone.
• I love that art can hypnotize me into loosing track of time.

I could keep going but I think I’d better stop for now.

I had said in a prior days post that Art classes were the only good grade my report card was ever guaranteed. I had always done well in art. I think part of this comes from my mom. Before I went into school my mother ran a daycare. She always allotted time in the day for “crafts.”

My mother has one of the most ingenuitive minds I’ve ever met. Not only is she artistic but she has the unique capability to look at one thing and see it in numerous forms. (Half the things I see on Pinterest my mother has been doing for years.) So, perhaps it’s fair to say that I come by it naturally.

A few years ago, just after I finished college (the first time around) I was stressing out. Something about that first year, you love it but you feel like a dog in a flood struggling to keep their head above water. As a way of decompressing, I dug my supplies out of storage and started painting again.

I’m not the worlds best painter. I still struggle with the rigidity of the way I think things “ought to” be done. But it’s relaxing nonetheless.  Some things I know right away aren’t right for me. For instance sewing. As the daughter and granddaughter of a seamstress, I do it but really only out of necessity. Knitting and crocheting I’ve been taught (more than once). While I’m amazed by what people can do it doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest. Traditional mosaics…I’m a really terrible tile and glass cutter.

On the other hand there are some things that fit right in. Digital art has so many potential products. Photography, I wanted to learn how to develop film in high school but my camera got stolen. Even performance art, primarily acting and speaking. I imagine I would love singing if we had had more classes for it in school. Creative writing, I’d always been a story teller.

In high school it was a resting spot. As my sixth and seventh hour classes it gave me a chance to unwind from the day. In my junior and senior year I was in self directed study (art 2 and 3). Mr. Heckman would be waiting at his desk. When I’d walk in he’d pull out a HUGE sam-club size jar of peanut butter and hand me a disposable spoon. I think he knew I usually skipped lunch or ate at the vending machines. We’d sit there and eat several large spoonfuls then I’d go off and get lost for an hour and create.

The thing is, I’m never content with just one (or five) outlet for creativity. So, I started to expand my horizons. Now I do a little furniture restoration, up-cycling, and I’m going to try my hand at gardening and flowers this year.

The joy in expressing and creating holds strong to this day. But, it all goes back to that first drawing that the itch struck. It was in third grade. We were doing a unit on the ocean in our main classroom. Our art teacher set up lots of two demential and three demential displays of ocean wild life. We got to pick one and draw it. I picked the puffer fish. For some reason I was enthralled by them. I remember at one point she told me it might help me to squint while looking at it. I don’t know why, but the advice helped. Sometimes when I’m hung up on details…I still find myself doing it.

Art has always been a safe haven for me. A place that I was free to express my ideas without the struggle of writing, reading, or calculating it. It’s been a place where I can find a way to make abstract ideas tangible. It’s a place where I can find respite from a weary world.