Monday, November 26, 2007
No matter what...life will go on....
I can hear Celine Dion singing now, "My heart will go on...."
Only I change the words to "My LIFE will go on...."
Right now all I can see is my horrible homework life--mounds of homework sit in front of me--this is my Everest. I have a ten page paper due on Thursday, a ten page paper due next Tuesday, an article and three page paper due tomorrow, a presentation tomorrow and a presentation on Thursday, not to mention the projects and finals to study for. Yes, homework is my life for the next three weeks.
Right now it seems like life won't ever be free of mounds of homework, and consequently, mounds of stress too.
But every now and then I take a deep breath and realize..."my Life will go on"...that is my mantra, and I will sing it loudly everytime I feel the cold hands of dread squeezing the life out of this little body of mine.
Only I change the words to "My LIFE will go on...."
Right now all I can see is my horrible homework life--mounds of homework sit in front of me--this is my Everest. I have a ten page paper due on Thursday, a ten page paper due next Tuesday, an article and three page paper due tomorrow, a presentation tomorrow and a presentation on Thursday, not to mention the projects and finals to study for. Yes, homework is my life for the next three weeks.
Right now it seems like life won't ever be free of mounds of homework, and consequently, mounds of stress too.
But every now and then I take a deep breath and realize..."my Life will go on"...that is my mantra, and I will sing it loudly everytime I feel the cold hands of dread squeezing the life out of this little body of mine.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
No matter what...Christmas magic begins at home.
Christmas time, like my birthday, is a favorite time of mine. My house is beautiful at Christmas time. My mom and dad have been married for twenty five years and have acquired through those twenty-five years a lot of Christmas decorations. We have wreaths and trees, snowmen and santas, nativity and stockings galore. My house is like Santa's workshop.
My mom and dad put up the tree today and it looks beautiful shining from just inside the big entryway window. The garland wrapped around the stairs is one of my favorites, it just seems so dressy.
Red and white candy cane lights are attached to the roof and windows outside and a nativity set shines from behind the porch.
Upon entering the house it smells of hot cinnamon apple cider and home cooked food. A big rug with Santa on it hangs from the top of the stairs and homemade crafts and pictures grace the tables, windows and walls of the house everywhere.
My mom even has Christmas soap and handtowels. We change the pictures throughout the house to Christmas paintings my grandmother made or tapestries my aunt sewed together decades ago. My mom sets up candy dishes around the house that hold candy canes and m&ms.
Huge wreaths hang over each of the four big open windows in the family room and the stockings are hung on the mantel just below the snowman statues.
Snowballs (the cookies) sit in Christmas tins on the counter and chocolate chip and sugar cookies bake in the oven.
The house holds magic in that wintry season and I can't wait to return home and find that magic in a few weeks...oh it seems like so long from now.
My mom and dad put up the tree today and it looks beautiful shining from just inside the big entryway window. The garland wrapped around the stairs is one of my favorites, it just seems so dressy.
Red and white candy cane lights are attached to the roof and windows outside and a nativity set shines from behind the porch.
Upon entering the house it smells of hot cinnamon apple cider and home cooked food. A big rug with Santa on it hangs from the top of the stairs and homemade crafts and pictures grace the tables, windows and walls of the house everywhere.
My mom even has Christmas soap and handtowels. We change the pictures throughout the house to Christmas paintings my grandmother made or tapestries my aunt sewed together decades ago. My mom sets up candy dishes around the house that hold candy canes and m&ms.
Huge wreaths hang over each of the four big open windows in the family room and the stockings are hung on the mantel just below the snowman statues.
Snowballs (the cookies) sit in Christmas tins on the counter and chocolate chip and sugar cookies bake in the oven.
The house holds magic in that wintry season and I can't wait to return home and find that magic in a few weeks...oh it seems like so long from now.
No matter what...she deserves the job.
Recently my mother applied for a job at APU--to work in the graduate program. My mom is a psychologist, and a woman who got straight "A"s throughout her bachelors, masters, and doctorate programs. Not only that, but she then went on to apply to and be accepted at the leading, best paying, competitive internship and fellowship at Patton State Hospital. She now has her own practice where she treats patients part time here in town while she continues to work at Patton. Her experience and expertise would be of the utmost value to APU.
However, when she applied my mother was told, "You know, you're perfect for the job, but you just might be too white."
TOO WHITE?!
I never knew there was such a thing as too white? What does that even mean? I'll tell you what it means--it means that APU has finally reached the point where they are so focused on being diverse that they fail to hire the men and women who are applying with above and beyond the criteria for application. APU is turning away people that are more than qualified to fill the job--men and women that would bring new and wonderful experience and education to students because they simply don't fit the look.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is called reverse discrimination and I can not believe that a school with the moral and academic standards such as APU has would commit such a foul feaxpau.
Students and teachers should rise up and make a stand for their education and school. Discrimination will not ever be permissible or understandable.
However, when she applied my mother was told, "You know, you're perfect for the job, but you just might be too white."
TOO WHITE?!
I never knew there was such a thing as too white? What does that even mean? I'll tell you what it means--it means that APU has finally reached the point where they are so focused on being diverse that they fail to hire the men and women who are applying with above and beyond the criteria for application. APU is turning away people that are more than qualified to fill the job--men and women that would bring new and wonderful experience and education to students because they simply don't fit the look.
That, ladies and gentlemen, is called reverse discrimination and I can not believe that a school with the moral and academic standards such as APU has would commit such a foul feaxpau.
Students and teachers should rise up and make a stand for their education and school. Discrimination will not ever be permissible or understandable.
No matter what...I will always have something better to do.
So...prior to Thanksgiving, I had nothing due. No midterms, no tests, no huge projects, really I had very little homework at all.
But for some reason teachers think, "Thanksgiving is coming up, and our students don't have a life outside of APU (or even outside of my class for that matter) so what will they possibly do with themselves. I should give them homework over the break, and not just some small tasks, but papers and projects and presentations that they can work on all of their break."
Ummmm, Hello! We do have lives outside of APU, outside of our major and outside of the library. We have family, friends and homes that we will be going to over the break. We will have visiting to do, rest to catch up on, food to cook, movies to see and an exciting holiday planned.
I am so frustrated with people assuming that you have nothing better to do than the tasks and work they plan for you to do, but I guess this is life............................BUT that doesn't mean I have to like it!
But for some reason teachers think, "Thanksgiving is coming up, and our students don't have a life outside of APU (or even outside of my class for that matter) so what will they possibly do with themselves. I should give them homework over the break, and not just some small tasks, but papers and projects and presentations that they can work on all of their break."
Ummmm, Hello! We do have lives outside of APU, outside of our major and outside of the library. We have family, friends and homes that we will be going to over the break. We will have visiting to do, rest to catch up on, food to cook, movies to see and an exciting holiday planned.
I am so frustrated with people assuming that you have nothing better to do than the tasks and work they plan for you to do, but I guess this is life............................BUT that doesn't mean I have to like it!
No matter what...I will always be the BIG sister!
This is my baby sister Cayla Rae (on the left). I have one sister. Cay is eight years younger than me, but to most people I look only a few years older at most. Part of the reason for that is she is now taller than me by a whole inch. That's right folks--eight years younger, and, at thirteen, she is already an inch ahead of me...and she's growing longer by the moment. That is all well and fine, but to add insult to injury she is soon to pass me in bra size as well...it is all just very sad to me. We went out yesterday for some Black Friday shopping and it occurred to me that to the casual stranger passing us, we probably both look the same age. My only consolation is that I can still kick her butt--although I am afraid that with her size even that will soon be a distant memory. The other day I was walking behind her for some reason, probably because she has longer legs than me now, and she looked behind at me and called, "Come on little sister." Well that's when I put my foot down, and, after tickeling her, I made darn clear that I will always be her big sister and she will always be my little sister no matter how BIG she gets.
No matter what...I am thankful for the carbs!
Ahhh...Thanksgiving, that blessed holiday where family's get together to give thanks for their loved ones, health, jobs, homes, food, dogs.... The list goes on and on.
We all know how it goes.
We sit down to a beautiful meal of turkey, mashed potatos, yams, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, and maybe some type of green vegetable that holds some nutritional value. We give thanks to God for the bounty and then proceed to be gluttons as we stuff our faces with serving after serving. We walk away from the table with that "just kill me now" feeling, but still fear a heartattack in the coming hours.
Why do we do this?
Is it in the name of feasting and celebration? Or is there something deeper behind our "day of carbs."
Maybe Thanksgiving has become a day of rest for Americans.
As Christians we understand that we are supposed to rest each Sunday--rest from work and a long with that the everyday demands of life. American life is not built for rest though. In a nation where efficiency and the bottom line are number one, rest is almost a foreign word. But it is one that is remembered by all each year on Thanksgiving.
Yes, we work and work and work to make the food, but around family and friends baking and roasting don't seem hard labor. It is at and after the feast, however, that the real resting begins.
Where, but in America, are women (and men alike) so put upon to make themselves thin and beautiful--to the point of self destruction. So many Americans are on diets year-round jumping from "The Zone" or "Weight Watchers" to "Jenny Craig" or "The South Beach Diet" every few months.
On Thanksgiving this is all gone.
Who shows up to Thanksgiving on a diet? No one! And anyone who does bring their Jenny Craig meal or the organic salad to a carb infested table is severely mocked by all in attendance.
This is the American way of saying we need a break from pleasing others-it is time to please ourselves and have a day of pure selfish gluttony. For most it is not a lifestyle, but one day a year where we all get to say, "To hell with it, give me another helping of mashed potatoes and stuffing; Bring on the carbs!"
We all know how it goes.
We sit down to a beautiful meal of turkey, mashed potatos, yams, stuffing, cranberry sauce, gravy, and maybe some type of green vegetable that holds some nutritional value. We give thanks to God for the bounty and then proceed to be gluttons as we stuff our faces with serving after serving. We walk away from the table with that "just kill me now" feeling, but still fear a heartattack in the coming hours.
Why do we do this?
Is it in the name of feasting and celebration? Or is there something deeper behind our "day of carbs."
Maybe Thanksgiving has become a day of rest for Americans.
As Christians we understand that we are supposed to rest each Sunday--rest from work and a long with that the everyday demands of life. American life is not built for rest though. In a nation where efficiency and the bottom line are number one, rest is almost a foreign word. But it is one that is remembered by all each year on Thanksgiving.
Yes, we work and work and work to make the food, but around family and friends baking and roasting don't seem hard labor. It is at and after the feast, however, that the real resting begins.
Where, but in America, are women (and men alike) so put upon to make themselves thin and beautiful--to the point of self destruction. So many Americans are on diets year-round jumping from "The Zone" or "Weight Watchers" to "Jenny Craig" or "The South Beach Diet" every few months.
On Thanksgiving this is all gone.
Who shows up to Thanksgiving on a diet? No one! And anyone who does bring their Jenny Craig meal or the organic salad to a carb infested table is severely mocked by all in attendance.
This is the American way of saying we need a break from pleasing others-it is time to please ourselves and have a day of pure selfish gluttony. For most it is not a lifestyle, but one day a year where we all get to say, "To hell with it, give me another helping of mashed potatoes and stuffing; Bring on the carbs!"
Saturday, November 3, 2007
no matter what...music and lyrics make my world go round
I love music...considering my last post some of you may have already gathered that.
Music somehow speaks to me. It makes sense when no one else does. There is always a song that fits for any situation, any feeling, or any thought. In addition, song lyrics make me think about my life and the lives of those around me, they make me reevaluate what is important to me, and I find that I often need a reminding.
Here is a song that did that for me this weekend:
"Who Am I" by Watermark
VERSE 1
Over time you've healed so much of me
And I am living proof
That although my darkest hour had come
Your light could still shine throuh
And although it's just enough to cast a shadow on the wall
Well, I am grateful that you shined your light on me at all
CHORUS
Who am I
That you would love me so gently
Who am I
That you would recognize my name
Oh, Lord who am I
That you would speak to me so softly
Conversations with a love most high
Who am I
VERSE 2
Well amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a retch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see
And the more I sing that sweet old song
The more I understand
That I do not comprehend this love that's flowing from your hand.
CHORUS
Grace, grace, God's grace
Grace that can pardon and cleanse within
Grace, grace, God's grace
Grace that is greater than all my sins
Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
Amazing love
Now flowing down
With hands and feet that were nailed to a tree
His grace flows down and covers me
Amazing grace (echo)
How sweet the sound (echo)
Amazing love
Now flowing down
With hands and feet that were nailed to a tree
Your grace flows down and covers me
Songs also remind me of very specific memories. Such songs include: "More Than You'll Ever Know" by Watermark--when I became best friends with my best friend, Avril Lavigne's first album--beach days the summer after my freshman year of high school, "Collide" by Howie Day--the song my boyfriend believes was playing when he said, "I love you" to me for the first time, "You and Me" by Lifehouse--the song I believe was playing when he said, "I love you" to me for the first time, "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle--sitting on the couch when I was maybe ten with my daddy listening to this new song on the radio--my daddy cried and made me promise we'd dance to this song one day at my wedding, Celine Dion's first two CD's--in the car with my mom on the way to her school when she was getting her masters--yeah we rocked out together many a time, and Amy Grant's "Heart in Motion" CD--listening and rocking out with my cousin and mom in the car many a time.
When these songs come on the radio it's like I am reliving those moments all over again. I love that a simple song with simple lyrics can trigger such powerful emotions and memories for me.
What songs mean something to you?
Music somehow speaks to me. It makes sense when no one else does. There is always a song that fits for any situation, any feeling, or any thought. In addition, song lyrics make me think about my life and the lives of those around me, they make me reevaluate what is important to me, and I find that I often need a reminding.
Here is a song that did that for me this weekend:
"Who Am I" by Watermark
VERSE 1
Over time you've healed so much of me
And I am living proof
That although my darkest hour had come
Your light could still shine throuh
And although it's just enough to cast a shadow on the wall
Well, I am grateful that you shined your light on me at all
CHORUS
Who am I
That you would love me so gently
Who am I
That you would recognize my name
Oh, Lord who am I
That you would speak to me so softly
Conversations with a love most high
Who am I
VERSE 2
Well amazing grace how sweet the sound
That saved a retch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see
And the more I sing that sweet old song
The more I understand
That I do not comprehend this love that's flowing from your hand.
CHORUS
Grace, grace, God's grace
Grace that can pardon and cleanse within
Grace, grace, God's grace
Grace that is greater than all my sins
Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
Amazing love
Now flowing down
With hands and feet that were nailed to a tree
His grace flows down and covers me
Amazing grace (echo)
How sweet the sound (echo)
Amazing love
Now flowing down
With hands and feet that were nailed to a tree
Your grace flows down and covers me
Songs also remind me of very specific memories. Such songs include: "More Than You'll Ever Know" by Watermark--when I became best friends with my best friend, Avril Lavigne's first album--beach days the summer after my freshman year of high school, "Collide" by Howie Day--the song my boyfriend believes was playing when he said, "I love you" to me for the first time, "You and Me" by Lifehouse--the song I believe was playing when he said, "I love you" to me for the first time, "Butterfly Kisses" by Bob Carlisle--sitting on the couch when I was maybe ten with my daddy listening to this new song on the radio--my daddy cried and made me promise we'd dance to this song one day at my wedding, Celine Dion's first two CD's--in the car with my mom on the way to her school when she was getting her masters--yeah we rocked out together many a time, and Amy Grant's "Heart in Motion" CD--listening and rocking out with my cousin and mom in the car many a time.
When these songs come on the radio it's like I am reliving those moments all over again. I love that a simple song with simple lyrics can trigger such powerful emotions and memories for me.
What songs mean something to you?
No matter what...this will always be a fantasy...
I embarrass easily.
I turn red even when called upon in class, even when I know the answer and/or have something very insightful to say, even when the teacher isn't a gorgeous man, even when I know everyone in the classroom (but, especially when I don't). I embarrass easily...but I have these fantasies...yes, let's call them fantasies because to say they are dreams makes one read into these "fantasies" as being life-long goals of mine--like, oh say when I dream of being a renown writer, or of a white picket house with a wrap-around porch, big walk-in closets, and a writing room with an old fashioned writing desk all the pens in the world and a beautiful view from the window.
No, these aren't dreams because unlike the dreams I stated above, I don't expect my fantasies to come true.
Here are my fantasies--and I've had them ever since I can remember:
I am wearing a gorgeous dress with killer heels that somehow are only "killer" in their making me look gorgeous and don't ever kill my feet, I'm in the middle of a big stage in the dark. The full band behind me begins to play and I shout out to thousands of adoring fans including friends and family, "How y'all doing tonight?" The fans are screaming and I begin to sing. My voice is a mix of Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, and Celine Dion. I am incredible, and although I know that my pitch is good and my notes are right on, I am completely unaware of how perfect the sound really is. I get a rush like none other just singing my heart out, bonding with the people there that night--it is a bond of melody yes, but also of lyrics and heart and rhythm.
These are the fantasies I have had since I was a little girl.
I usually have them when singing in my car--windows down and music turned way up. Or in my room when I'm all by myself and I've had a crappy day, or-- when I have a moment--in the garage, yes, the garage--it has the perfect acoustics and my voice is automatically volumized as it bounces off the walls and cupboards within that open space.
These are my fantasies--well, it really is only one,it just varies each time I have it.
What are your fantasies?
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