...

I'm still here.

That's all ... for now.

I'll be back.

I always am ...

Oh, time how you fly.

Hm. So, it's no secret things have been a little rough. Self-discovery and that whole journey is a pain in the ass. But, that's okay because it's an absolute necessity.

I'm 28 now. Not old, but yet, difficult. Hard to explain.

I've finished 5 years of teaching the madness that is high school. I will even begin my 6th year in a different role - getting back in touch with neglected loves - theatre, plays, musicals, and drama ... well, I've always been in touch with drama!

I am still with Boy. He drives me crazy and annoys the hell out of me at times. I'm sure he finds me beyond difficult in way too many moments. I very wrongly thought this whole relationship stuff would be easy ... But, he loves me ... a lot. And, I love him.

When I allow it (and stop acting stupidly scared and undeserving), it's nearly too good to be true.

For the first time in a long time, I'm not really working this summer. Well, I'm working on me. Getting healthy. Writing. Doing music-related things. Oddly enough, the area that's going quite well is the getting healthy.

Oh, irony. You are so silly.

But, life is alright. Especially because of getaway weekends like this:

What a girl gotta do? Accept some joy.

what's a girl got to do?

I have no idea ...

I have been reading and thinking and writing and reading and thinking and writing. All I know is that I feel like my life is good. Really, really good but I have not fully appreciated it.

And why? Because I'm too caught up in hanging onto something I probably need to be without. I've put a lot of faith and hope into it. Faith and hope I should have been putting into me.

And all this time is going by and here I am sort of sitting on the sidelines. Of my own life.

If you really knew me ...

My students completed a project not long ago as we began a new unit. They had to answer the following question:

If you really knew me, you'd know ...

They couldn't write about the simple things - like, "my favorite color is blue. I like hockey" It had to give insight to them as a person. I thought I'd answer it today.

If you really knew me, you'd know that I try to be optimistic but lately I've been failing miserably. I live way too much on the what if's, to the point that they consume me. The biggest question of all being, "what if I was thinner?"

You'd know that there are moments I think I should just move back to the one place I said I'd never return. "Home." Sometimes, I don't think I deserve to be where I am. I came to chase a dream but somehow, though once strong and unstoppable, I have become one that sits on the sidelines, watching everyone else.

I love, love teaching but I'm pretty sure I need a break for awhile. I don't want to lose what it is that sets me apart from what I fear I'm becoming. I am passionate about what I do - and I want to continue being so - even if I have to step away for bit.

*********************

I planned to write more but it's 1:30am. Time for bed for this girl that you'll know even more about soon ...

The Art of Being Happy

I wish I was 5 years old again, holding on to my dad's pinky finger. We'd go across the big main street a block away and visit the amazing, beautiful, peaceful place we simply called, "The Trees."

It was magical. Weeping willows fell low enough to grab on, hold tight and swing - without a care in the world. Weeping ... willow. At 5, why would I bother pondering the name this lovely tree was given? The tree that still holds some of my favorite childhood memories. She couldn't be sad ... she made me so happy.

It was so easy then. That was before my ears knew that mouths could spur loud and hateful words. It was before I knew what hurt was and what pain felt like. I lived and breathed happy. Little did I know the weeping that was occuring and the weeping that would come.

Happiness came with such ease. And even more so, with such acceptance. I didn't fight happy. It was there. We were one. Little girl ... with blue eyes and only innocent tears, dreams yet to be dreamt, long brown hair left untouched, a creative mind only beginning its journey.

I can't be her anymore. Being happy has become an art form. At least right now. It seems unnatural but surely not unwanted. No, I don't spend my days moping around. Life is okay. But, I've hit another brick wall. No, I didn't hit it. I ran, top speed staring straight into it and decided not to stop. Happy is sitting beside me, holding me tightly and I just want to push it away. Give me the weeping. Not the willow.

I didn't think this would be so difficult, but it is. If I'm really honest with myself, which I'd definitely rather not be, I'd know it's not about any one, it's not about any thing, it's me. 100% me.

Sometimes ...

just sometimes ...


I'm really stupid.


But, I don't regret it.


Except that it hurts. A lot.

Education

What education is for me ...

School was always a safe haven. Other than being in my sister's presence, it was the only place I could go and know that I would be okay. School for me was an escape. It doesn't matter what I was escaping from - maybe it was just into creativity, away from ignorance and into a world of knowledge and endless possibilities. Not everyone feels that way, I know, but I was the kid crossing my fingers and praying unceasingly that school would not be closed on those snowy days. Yeah, that was me. A total freak. But I loved it, everything about it. We were a family not connected by blood but by something that was nearly just as unbreakable - education and all that goes into it.

I'm not too far from that very same little girl ... I still value education. I am a teacher. It is not a job. It is my livelihood.

But, it may be time to take a break before I lose the very passion and faith that I had in teaching and in education as a whole when I was sitting in front of the TV crossing my fingers.

I'm just pretty angry right now because for as much as I'm far from perfect, love gossip and have way less than 100% days, I see someone else in this same building who doesn't seem to give a shit about the students, about the idea of a school family, about being cohesive, about communicating effectively, about much of anything except for image. How can one thrive in such an environment?

Education is not and should not be treated like a business. Because it isn't. It's a service profession. We serve. We aren't to be served. Not our pockets, not our egos ... It's not about us. It's about them. How is that so easily forgotten?

Why I'm not a Godmother ...

I have this friend. I use that term loosely. You see, once upon a time, I considered her a BEST friend - that kind of friend who you would trust with every secret, every promise, every sin ... everything.

You know how life is ... people change. Sometimes you firmly believe that there are bonds so strong that nothing will get in the way. That's what I thought about me and her. I figured our bond was unbreakable. But, apparently, it wasn't.

We've had a roller coaster of a friendship and there are so many things that I could share to explain it but in one of our many ups and downs, we had a conversation where she told me why I wasn't her son's Godmother. See, I was supposed to be. I knew that. But when she told me who would be, I didn't flinch when it wasn't me. It wasn't a surprise because we weren't currently super tight - this happened three years ago with her first child, too.

For whatever reason, during a 5 hour conversation, she told me why I wasn't. Okay. Thanks. Here it is ...

I voted for someone she didn't. Who you vote for, according to her, shapes and tells everything about you. And she was disgusted by my choice. I wasn't the same person anymore, she said. I was different. The way she emphasized that word I knew she thought it was all horrific. Apparently I was less of a Christian now, too. And I have gay friends. God forbid I socialize with such repulsive sinners. And I make poor choices and my morals and values are just different (again, read "bad") than hers. She doesn't want her child to be like me.

She went on. And on. I said nothing. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, though it couldn't have been more than ten minutes. She just stopped. She said, "well, can you say something?"

I cannot tell you how much this hurt. When someone you think loves you unconditionally has the capacity to say such things, it doesn't matter how ludicrous it might seem, it tears you apart.

What gets me most is she failed to focus on things that have changed that are good ... it's been several weeks and we have not spoken. I can't bring myself to do it. No matter what I say, I will be wrong. Because I'm different. Because I've changed. Apparently for the worse.

I know it isn't true. But it just kind of sucks.