Category: Fiction or Not

Confession #3: The Bachelor

Things I learned while watching The Bachelor:

  • Be open.
  • Sometimes love really is like skydiving, repelling down a building, etc; you really do have to leap off of some internal ledge.
  • Speaking what’s on your mind makes a world of difference; if you see something good, say something good.

Things I learned while watching The Bachelorette:

  • Your gut can be wrong.
  • You have to hear the words, not just speak them.
  • A good guy knows how to take a deep breath, look you in the eye, and say something real.  Then, a keeper will act on it.
  • There is definitely something to be said for consistency.

These may not be hard and fast rules to live by.  I am clearly not an expert on relationships.  TV is clearly manipulated and manipulative.

However, there is some truth here that I would do well to remember in the coming months.  Someone once asked me about my weaknesses in relationships and I said, “This little heart of mine.”  I said it right off the cuff, but it was so true.  My heart seems to get me into as much trouble as is does reward.  My heart just goes for it, gets beat up a little, and gets scared.  So the next time an opportunity arises, my heart shies away.  I sometimes wonder if I’ve missed somebody on those off times.

Of course, it’s all in God’s time and good time and all of that, but as summer really starts to rev up, I think I’m ready to go again.  Despite the hang ups and the confusion and the crazy feeling of being a contestant in my own life, here I am.  I’m running off my own tower of insecurities with only a little hope to get me safely back to the ground.  Hope that I want to employ to keep my heart open to someone who could be a real, true parachute.

Here’s a bit of a song from a few years ago:
I choose to dive to the ocean, running right off of this mountainside.
Yes, I know you don’t think love has wings for a heart my size.
But I still want to know just how far I’ll go
If I fly a little, try a little.
Watch me fly.

I guess some things just don’t change about a person.

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Out of the Library #3

Today was library day!  I love library day.  It’s as great as, well there’s nothing like library day.

Or maybe I could say it’s as great as when Big told Carrie she was probably the last person in New York who still checked out library books.  Certainly, I don’t go to the library to try to be Carrie Bradshaw’s precocious little sister, but it’s not such a terrible association on the surface-y, girlie, city and technology lover part of me.

I go to the library because it has been the most consistent institution of my life.  The library has no pretense (never has) and it has no marketing strategy and I love that.  It’s just a library.  It’s a big building.  And it holds books, which hold knowledge.  And it’s free for anyone who’s willing to traverse it’s paths.  It’s the epitome of “be yourself” advice, which was the best advice I ever received from a friend. When I grow up, I want to be a library.  *wink*

Here’s what I checked out today/recently (I did have to renew a couple of these from last month, so they’re making the list again):

  • Talk Now! Somali (DVD)
  • A Grammar of the Somali Language by J.W.C. Kirk
  • Essential English/Somali Dictionary by Aasaasi
  • A History of Small Life on A Windy Planet by Martha Collins (poetry)
  • The Weather of Six Mornings by Jane Cooper (poetry)
  • Stories about Aunties edited by Ingrid Sturgis

I am on the waiting list for:

  • Bossypants by Tina Fey

I am ready to laugh at myself learning a new language, be inspired by crafted words and natural imagery, and be challenged to be more of an aunt than I am.  And then I’m more than certain I’ll be ready to laugh at someone else, namely Ms. Fey–I’m sure she doesn’t mind.

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Favorite Sounds of the Day

At day’s long end, I called up my sister to check in on her galavanting (I like to think she’s galavanting) summer in Colorado.

The sound of her phone ringing, even though it is surely some kind of digital reenactment of “her” ring, suddenly became my favorite sound of the day.

It held some kind of cheery hope I didn’t realize I was even wanting to hear.  But yes, I was longing for that hope of a good conversation. The hope of a funny story and a moment to laugh and listen.  My sister always has something to share, so there is little need to talk about myself–that oh so tiring act.

Of course, my sister does prod and pull and eventually gets me to tell her all the things I shy from sharing.  But this is a hope, too, as I hear her phone ringing.  It’s the hope of connecting with someone who really knows your story.

Other sounds I enjoyed today:
“How’s work today?” and “Did ya make it to church today?”  were both asked of me by a very adorable and cheery young environmentalist guest at work.  *crushable

“I am totally buying you a Julius! I missed you.”  was said by a leader and friend at work.  *inspiring and motivational

“Sommmebbbbodyyy to loooovvvvee!!”  was sung by a co-worker unexpectedly at the end of our shift.  *tension releasing

“How deep the Father’s love for us.”  was sung by a new worship team friend this morning.  *humbling because I know He knows my story, too.

(Clearly, I worked today and it was a long day, but the smiles and niceties were abundant.  I am grateful.  Also, I wrote this on my phone after calling my sister. Thanks for being inspiring.)

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Some Space

I finished a large music festival the first week of May with the high school choir that I teach.  It was exactly what I expected it to be.  Large numbered choirs with near perfect vowel sounds and heartfelt teachers whose only non-reservation was “last year” and “next year” comments.

The next week was full of intense rehearsals, including choreography for our Spring Pops concert. Between missing kids and huge attitudes, we somehow pulled it together enough. We even handed out some awards.

Then came another seven rehearsals to prepare our original (composed special for our choir) song for graduation. Each day, I put all my energy into teaching notes and persuading students that the song was worth learning. One by one, they got on board.

Our final day of class, which included an individual performance test, was fantastic. I had never seen those kids happier and more cohesive. I was pumped for them and for graduation. Reading their finals, I realized just how much these students had grown this year. About 95 percent of them wrote something to the effect of, “I have never been as confident as I am now because of choir.”

Graduation day came and we gathered to sing together one last time. I noticed many of my students in weak and emotional states; a stark contrast from two days before at our final. Sadly, one of our graduating seniors (not a choir member) lost his life the night before graduation.

The student body was clearly shaken in the wake of the tragedy. I was also shaken.

This past week, I found myself tethered to my bed each morning and up far too late at night. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was from the wake of May and graduation until I woke up this morning and felt myself again.

It is a blessing to be silent, to hold your tongue, to at least pause.  Proverbs talks about the wisdom of no comments.  I see myself protected by a closed gate over and over again.  But oh, do I long for a space to spill my coffee!

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Morning

Morning,
fresh and bright,
innocent of how
I might
whittle away your light,
don’t leave me.

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The Concert by Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Concert

No, I will go alone.
I will come back when it’s over.
Yes, of course I love you.
No, it will not be long.
Why may you not come with me?–
You are too much my lover.
You would put yourself between me and song.

If I go alone,
Quiet and suavely clothed.
My body will die in its chair,
And over my head a flame,
A mind that is twice my own,
Will mark with icy mirth
The wise advance and retreat
Of armies without a country,
Storming a nameless gate,
Hurling terrible javelins down
From the shouting walls of a singing town
Where no women wait!
Armies clean of love and hate,
Marching lines of pitiless sound
Climbing hills to the sun and hurling
Golden spears to the ground!
Up the lines a silver runner
Bearing a banner whereon is scored
The milk and steel of a bloodless wound
Healed at length by the sword!

You and I have nothing to do with music.
We may not make of music a filigree frame,
Within which you and I,
Tenderly glad we came,
Sit smiling, hand in hand.

Come now, be content.
I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay
Undeniably, music is a force that pursues the soul and catches it in order to grow the soul inch by taller inch of true being.

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*Insert* of Reconciliation

A number of years ago a very dear friend of mine introduced me to a little something she called “chocolate of reconciliation.”  Whenever she and her then boyfriend (now husband) had it out, the best way they resolved the issue was with a bar of Ritter Sport Chocolate.  Within a day, one of them would be gifted chocolate and a note on their bed, the kitchen table, at work, in the car, or in a hug at the top of the apartment steps.

As her roommate, I took to this sort of sacrament on a regular basis.  I’m sorry I broke another wine glass.  I’m sorry I tracked mud through the apartment again and stepped on your favorite shirt.  I’m sorry I always steal your computer to use the internet.  I’m sorry I didn’t wash the dishes again.  I’m sorry I’m such a crank all the time; I’m sure it has nothing to do with my dissatisfaction working 12 hours days at the salon down the street and living above an Irish pub in Chicago.  I’m sorry we live above an Irish pub in Chicago–in Wrigleyville.  

When we moved on from our actually sweet and precious time in Wrigleyville, she to be married and I to start substitute teaching in my teensy Minnesota hometown, I took her policy of reconciliation with me.  Through more roommates and more self-indulgent mistakes, this funny, little odd bit of sincere humility became one of the most significant catalysts for my personal growth.  It’s much easier to race to an apology knowing that there is chocolate at the end of the conversation.  It’s alot like the positive reinforcement I use in the classroom.  Reward, reward, reward for good behavior.

Yesterday, however, I totally crossed the line.  I’m growing, but I’m far from perfect.  I completely lost my cool in the 100 degree-plus humidity weather we were having in Minnesota.  I said words that really had no place in a loving friendship.  It wasn’t cursing or yelling or vulgarity, but it was simply driving in the thorn where I knew it would hurt the most.

I walked out of the room at that point and spent the night folding jeans at the mall.  Oh, Lord, what will I do now?  There is no chocolate for this one.  (This is why I often pray for the Lord to shut my mouth.)  I folded, I prayed, I drove around, I went home, I watched The Bachelorette, I wrote a poem about heat, I tried to sleep.  I blogged.

In the morning, the heat hadn’t really subsided and neither had my disappointment in myself.  I tried to keep myself quiet enough to find a solution that meant more than sorry.  I turned off the car radio and it hit me–a pedicure of reconciliation.  By the end of the school day everything was arranged and I sent my dear friend with a wad of cash and good will to the salon.  It was perfect and no other words needed to be said.  (Although I did make her read the poem I wrote about heat to help explain my crazy head.)  All is well again.

When at a loss, reconcile.  Do it quickly, sincerely, and add a light gift.  I think this helps us realize that it’s not really “us” that’s so crazy it’s just that sometimes we loose our heads momentarily.

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Heat

It’s true what they say about heat.  “Heat changes you.”  They say that, right?

As the temperature rises, I find it more and more difficult to maintain my steadfastness.  I’m letting my words fly and my imagination has completely run away with my sensibility.  I’ve lost any semblance of control.

I’m sticky and I feel stuck and I’m not liking it.

I’m not sure how to get back to the cool days of ease and coze,

when words were the only warmth I gave.  Now my words just add to the blaze.

It was 100 degrees Fahrenheit today.

The heat is getting to me.

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Diffusing Strength

I work with high school students and I learn something new every day.  Sometimes they teach me lingo, sometimes they teach me hand shakes, but most often they teach me about being a person.

The other day I learned that groups with pull are really threads that have braided themselves together.  This makes the group strong and influential and sometimes very scary.  The thing is that each part of the braid joins the group for its own reasons.  In fact, people group together for reasons they may never share with one another.

  • I’m lonely.
  • I’ve had a bad day.
  • I want to be in control.
  • I want to laugh with you.
  • I want in (on the joke, on the cool, on the love…)
  • and any other reason you can come up with.

When people act together, they become something other than themselves.  They become a unit that sometimes can be seen as only a one-purpose unit.  This makes it really hard to reach individuals and have personal impact.  The solution, of course, is to engage each part of the group as individuals from time to time.  Not only does this strengthen the individual, but it also strengthens the whole.

When personal needs are met (you have a leader, you have a place, you are the joy, you are the cool), the group purpose becomes less about meeting personal goals and more about meeting group goals.  I want my choir, as a whole, to perform excellently.  In order to do that, each member must be recognized and addressed individually.

I learned all of this while having one-on-one conversations with some really talented and unique individuals.  Each one shared a surprising and different reason for being a part of their own influential group.  Each reason was deeply personal regardless of the commonalities in their group.  I never would have guessed that diffusing the strength of their group would make such a huge impact on the morale and strength of the greater team.

There is, indeed, strength in numbers, but it must include a healthy dose of personal resolve.

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Candid

I am not a naturally light and candid person, but I am quite sincere. When asked, I always try to give my most honest and heartfelt answer appropriate to the audience. Sometimes this leaves me talking for entirely too long as I try to cover all the minute nuances of my thoughts on the subject. In reality, I am often attempting to write an essay as I respond. While this makes me good at interviewing, it does not help me play around in a conversation. I do apologize if you have ever been on the receiving end of one of these winding, oral compositions–especially one that doesn’t make sense or hold it’s weight in the end.

Tonight was girls’ night. A bunch of us pooled down to a trendy French restaurant in St. Paul, ordered drinks and fancy food and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in our pretty dresses and high heeled shoes.

These are some topics I wish I had not waxed on about:

  • Not fully understanding what it means to be an aunt.
  • Meeting guys at work.
  • How eharmony really works.
  • Wanting to get out of my own head.

On the other hand, who else would say all these things on my heart to?

I am sure the girls understand.

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