Fun Facts

Here are some random fun facts that I pondered as I drove home from work today.

I love lightening. It is scary at times, and painful/deadly other times, but it is always beautiful. The way it can light up a sky or even just a portion behind a cloud. That's just plain beautiful and lightening makes me happy.

I hate mustaches. I think they're creepy and make men seem more sketchy than they probably are. That being said, there was once a guy (probably around my age) who came into the Apple store with a mustache that I adored. I don't know why, although it was kind of handlebar'ish. Anyway, I saw him in the mall as I was leaving today (creepy that I have started recognizing people solely because I work in a mall) and it was gone. I left the mall slightly depressed over that fact.

I am about to have 11 days to do nothing. I have no work. That is scary and exciting. My goal is to fall in love with running. (and go to the local city pool a lot) If nothing else, I'll just drive my self crazy because I still haven't heard about the stupid teaching job.

I really enjoy classical music in my car lately. I enjoy imagining what would be happening in a jane austen novel at each point in the song. I sometimes imagine myself in said jane austen novel with accompanying classical music.

It stinks when you realize you're a friendgirl. That's what I'm naming it when you know you'll never go from friend to gf. It also stinks when said friendboy says imagine we're dating to illustrate a point. Would it have been creepy if I said, I mean I've done that before, this should be easy. I think it would have been.

I'm exhausted and want to spend a week at the river. I just want a vacation from my completely non-hectic life.

I learned a lot about commitment last year. About being true to my word and persevering through things we don't enjoy. I have learned a lot about patience this year. I have bucked against this one a lot I think. Because I am never okay with waiting. I'm not satisfied knowing that eventually it'll all make sense. That someday, I'll see God's hand in all of this waiting. Despite that, or maybe because of that, he continues to attempt to teach me patience. Patience and trust. I think you can't have patience without trust; so maybe what I'm really learning is to trust. Trust that He really does have a plan, and it really is better. Even if it is slow. and not what I want. and painful to wait for. and painful to receive.

Taylor Mali

I had coffee with a friend today and we were talking about the relationship that parents have with education. I talked about a line from this poem. When I got home, I looked it up to look at the poem in its entirety. It's just a marvelous read (as someone hoping to teach) and therefore, I am sharing it. I'm also including a link to a video of him performing it, as it is slam poetry, which is best when viewed, not read. I don't love this necessarily just because of the teacher part, but he's just amazing to watch and obviously so passionate about teaching. And who doesn't want that?


He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.

"I mean, you're a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"

And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time wiht anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a g@#$@mn difference! What about you?


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxsOVK4syxU

Mountains

It's okay to be confused. She's writing about mountains again!? Crazy, I know. But I got home to Cincinnati late Sunday night, and at campaigners Monday, staring up at me from Kolia's handout, was a quote about mountaintops. With the "ink" still wet on the page of my thoughts about mountains and mountain top experiences, here was Henri Nouwen saying everything my heart was thinking. Therefore, I will share it with you.

Why is it so important that you are with God and God alone on the mountaintop? It's important because it's the place in which you can listen to the voice of the One who calls you beloved. To pray is to listen to the One who calls you "my beloved daughter", "my beloved son", "my beloved child." To pray is to let that voice speak to the center of your being, to your guts and let that voice resound in your whole being.

This made me groan at its truth and laugh at how it plays into my life. I got to the top of the mountain and all I wanted was to take pictures. I love that view, as earlier stated, and want to share it. However, after two quick pictures, my camera turned off. It was out of battery. And unfortunately, as cool as my mountain is, it does not have outlets. I sat there frustrated for a few seconds before hearing a small voice say this isn't for them. This is for you and me and only us. This isn't something I want you to share. It's here just for you. He took away what I was trying to distract myself with; even if it was unintentional.

This quote made me laugh because of the constant struggle I've been having with my darling mother about a tattoo I've been considering. A few years ago I thought about how I would love to have a tattoo under my wedding band. That my husband and I could each have something. I was thinking the verse about I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine. The more I thought about it, and the older I got, the more I didn't want it to be with my husband. That verse wasn't meant to talk about the relationship I would have with a man someday but with the relationship I already have with Christ. That led to me wanting it more and more before there was ever a boy in the picture. And all I want is beloved. I want to be reminded, just like that small voice tries to remind me amidst the noise, that I am the beloved of Christ.

Real Job

I applied today for the job opening at Finneytown. That is really exciting first off because there is an opening, and because I am applying. I got my stuff in a few weeks ago and the job was posted this morning. Better believe I was ready for that sucker and just had to hit apply.

While on the magical job website, I noticed a posting for Indian Hill. For those of you that don't know, Indian Hill is the really nice, expensive part of town. (Lets just say these kids don't want for much monetarily..and that's actually how you spell it) After much debate, a phone call, a text, and a few good friends' advice, I just applied for that job as well. (I can always say no, right?)

It's interesting the more I think about it. Because if Finneytown hires for the job that was vacated, then I have a shot at teaching seventh and eighth grade english. Not my preference, but a job is a job and I'd have my own class. The Indian Hill job is high school and I'm pretty sure either communication, speech, drama or all of the above. (those rich schools and their english electives) I would also have the option, maybe with a large shove behind it, to do the theater productions. And that may be my dream job. Downfall being, it's not Finneytown.

I've invested so much of my stinking heart into that school to just walk away now. Could the call really have been to invest so much in such a short period of time to end up somewhere else? And if not then why taunt me with this perfect job just for the not so ideal one (job wise) be the one that is supposed to be?

Why is it that even when it feels like everything is on the verge of working out, or even just one area is going to start working out, it doesn't. Instead it seems to pour confusion down on my head. Confusion without solution. I'm ready to sleep until the answer comes. Wake me up if you hear any news.

Blue Ridge Mountains

Sitting in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, I can't help but feel small. My favorite hike ends with a rock formation, jutting off of the side of the mountain. (It's what is in the picture) It is a magnificent view that, despite the pictures I take, can never be accurately captured or conveyed.

Life has been frustrating lately. It's as if no matter how much I write, I can't convey my thoughts. The words coming from my mouth aren't coming from my heart. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to get enough oxygen.

And yet, here I sit in the Virginia breeze, with the sun on my face, working on my Chaco tan, and my sigh works. It's finally enough and I have caught my breath. The thoughts come effortlessly and the words flow eloquently across the page.

I could sit here forever. I could sit and stare at the view until my time was up. On this mountain, joy and peace seem attainable. As I lean back on the "rock chair", God is so real. I can't take in the view here and not believe. It would be impossible to look at this and not believe in a Creator who longs to woo our hearts.

It makes the walk down the mountain to the car so debilitating. With each step I feel the burdens pile back on. As much as the walk up was exhausting, because it is exhausting to climb a mountain, my load seemed to get lighter with each step. And the walk down does the opposite, which brings dread when you know you have to leave. Because who wants to walk away from a mountaintop?

Maybe that's why they call spiritual highs mountaintop experiences. Because up here, He's so obvious. Life is so peaceful and following Him makes so much sense. Makes me wonder why I ever chose to move away from these mountains.