Making Sense

I'm sitting in a Panera with a blank computer screen up. Ten... twenty... thirty minutes have gone by since I opened my torts casebook. The playlist on my iPod looped four times before I noticed.

I can't make sense of the last month, and that lack of sense pervades into most of the things I try to do. I end up staring. Then shaking my head and getting back to work only to stare again. Some days that's all there is- blank-eyed stares. Other days it's not so bad.

That's the funny thing about grief. It's like having a leech on your back sucking out your energy, mostly without you knowing. Maybe you're fine, maybe you're just used to being drained. Then sometimes you laugh and you believe that you're finally alright again, only to be right back to where you started five minutes later. Like I said, I can't make sense of it.

Because I see things in black and white, I struggle with this. I just want to crawl into bed. I don't want to be in a gray area, in a kind of limbo where life is back to normal but it's not back to normal at all. I want every day to be the same, for better or worse, so I can figure out where I am. But it doesn't work like that.

You take one day at a time. One hour at a time, even. Like my dad says- do one thing at a time, and do it right. It's all you can do.

Right?

When you're little, there are right choices and there are wrong choices. Example of a right choice: listening to your teacher. Example of a wrong choice: trying to fit your entire fist into your mouth during social studies. Most kids have a pretty good grasp over whether they're making a right choice or a wrong choice.  This makes my job easy because all I have to say is "What did you do?" and they usually give it all up, pouting their heads into their arms and sobbing out, "I tried to put the math manipulatives up my nose."

Not so when you are adult. Yes, there is still right and wrong but much fewer people to police the decision you are making. In elementary school, people help you choose the books you read and the lunches you eat. "That story's too easy for you," they say. "Eating too many jelly beans will give you a belly ache." As a grown-up, it's all gone. You're left to make your choices on your own and deal with the consequences, whatever they may be. How are we supposed to know whether we're on the right track when we don't have a clip chart or a report card?

I got to thinking about it this week mainly because I was getting a little freaked out about submitting my law school deposit (which I did today). Eek. It didn't help when a rather distant acquaintance informed me at TFA learning teams that "This is, like, the worst time EVER to go to law school." Really? No way. I thought going into six figures of debt was ALWAYS a good decision (and, on a side note, it's not a very good time to do anything right now, including find a job, buy gas, or visit Japan... so what's your point?). It got me more freaked out. How am I sure I'm doing the right thing? How do I know?

Well, to start, I don't know. And I don't think I'll ever know. That's a hard thing to accept, especially for a crazy planning organizing psycho like myself. I don't go to sleep without planning out what I'm going to eat the next day, so you can imagine how frequently I've tried to map out my life. It hardly ever works that way, because something always gets in the way. And if it doesn't, you're spending the whole time wondering when something MIGHT get in the way. I'm trying to do that with my next steps and I had to remind myself last night that things might never work out the way I plan for them to. And sometimes they might work out exactly the way I plan for them to. There's just no way of knowing for sure.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've decided to just pretend I know for sure. To go at it blind. To move forward with such confidence in purpose that only good things can happen to me because I refuse to see them as anything else. TFA had this silly icebreaker game from Minute to Win It on Monday. Before it even started, I knew I was going to win. Why? Because you won a plastic egg full of candy and I wanted it. Because I'm competitive. But mostly because I made my mind up that I was going to do it. I didn't know how- though I love cookies I've never practiced moving them around my body using twitching motions- but I did end up winning. And devouring the stupid egg.

I know not everything works like that, but I think the mindset helps. Hey, I went into teaching like that and look where it got... oh crap.

This post is rambling on, but I'm convinced that if I've made it this far relying on my gut and a whole lot of faith, I'll be just fine.

Delayed.

Don't they know I'm a Hall of Famer? Fix this problem immediately!

I'm stuck in the CLT airport right now, waiting to get on a direct flight to Boston for a jam-packed weekend- BU law school preview, boyfriend rendez-vous, relived debauchery with my college roommate, and general whining about the weather. I'm blaming the delay on the fact that the pilots don't want to leave abundant sunshine and 70 degree forecasts. Whatever the reason, I'm hoping my newly elevated status as a Corning Painted Post Sports Hall of Fame Inductee (Class of 2011) gets this flight off the ground soon. Literally. I want to get off the ground.

I was home this weekend because of that whole debacle, sitting through a four and a half hour dinner for a plaque and certificate combo. I purposely did not tell Jack about what kind of ceremony it was because I didn't think he would come if he knew. When my sister got inducted, it was over five hours long, only bearable because we were sat at the back closest to the bar. My whole family proceeded to get inappropriately intoxicated as the evening dragged on, getting out at 11 pm and promptly going to bed. This ceremony marked my third important speech of the year, and I'm glad I got practice at my mom's retirement party and my sister's wedding so I could be really calm and collected for this one. Oh wait. I wasn't calm and collected. I was visibly shaking and almost cried. Not exactly my best performance.

When I first got the letter about being inducted, I was pretty confused. I haven't even made the Fiorillo Family Sports Hall of Fame, being banned from the wall of accomplishments because apparently all-conference academic awards don't count. And I didn't feel like I really deserved it. My high school volleyball team did well, even though we were basically the Buffalo Bills of New York volleyball, losing in the state finals two years in a row. But still... my sister got inducted and was way more athletic than me. In fact, I'm less surprised by some of the law schools I've gotten accepted to (or not rejected from) than I am that I got inducted. That's how much I don't feel like a Hall of Famer. Even by Painted Post standards. As the ceremony got closer, I just kind of went with it. I guess I can send an updated resume to some of those undecided schools with my newest accomplishment on it... they can't say no now, right?

For now I'm stuck in with my delayed flight, editing supplemental essays and my e-mail signature to include my most recent accolade. Wish me luck on receiving all these final application decisions, but now that I'm a Hall of Famer, I'm beating all the odds and probably won't need it.

Daylight Keeping Time

I've never understood why they call it Daylight Savings Time. It's not like you're saving anything. Changing the time forward or backward has no effect on how long the day actually is; it just changes what the clock says. It's all a matter of perspective... it's a matter of whether you want light at 6 in the morning or 8 at night.

For me, it means it's dark when I get to work again. Bummer.

But in a more philosophical way, I think maybe I need my own shift in perspective away from this attitude where I do not like my job (at least a lot of parts of my jobs) and count down the days until it's over. I need to try to find some light in what I do. Because there are great moments in my day somewhere, even if it takes some serious emotional excavation to find it. Case in point? My reading class is amazing, and we have fun together EVEN on the days when the kids (or me) are not 100% on the ball. And the fact that most of my homeroom is genuinely sweet, whether they bring in extra pieces of their birthday cake or tracings of Disney characters with Spanish captions. However I look at it, it's time to start looking forward (get it?).

Skinny Wednesday

Lent began today. I've never been especially good at giving things up, but over-indulging on Fat Tuesday has always been easy. And with my two moms in town, it was even easier than usual.

When I was in Italy, my overly patriotic father who will never leave the country would not come to visit me with my real mom. So Bonnie came along instead. People in my program were a little confused when the two moms showed up, as were the maitre'ds (is that correct?) when they insisted on getting a cot in their room in Florence for "their" daughter. We drank wine straight out of the bottle in St. Mark's Square, watched my mom lock herself in a tiny coed bathroom, and had a deli worker explain the meaning of love to us.

They've been traveling up the coast from Florida enjoying their retirement and stopping at every plantation and old southern city they can find. Charlotte was a less historic pit stop, but one I was lucky they made because it meant I had an excuse to stuff my face full of Charlotte's best Italian food and desserts. They left this morning, leaving me feeling quite empty (as lame and cliche as that sounds). I love my mom. I love her even more when there's two of her. And a monotonous day of school and South Beach diet food feels even more deprived after a day of indulgence.

The whole time they were here, I demanded that they give me life advice. What I really want, more than advice, is for someone to just tell me what to do. Or someone to at least give me some solid ground to give me at least a little sense of stability. Unfortunately, my mom's pushiness stops at the point of making decisions for me, usually with her exclaiming that she thinks I should "follow my hopes, dreams, and aspirations." Whatever that means. I was able to at least get the pearl of wisdom that making a choice does not necessarily result in a mistake, but just in something different. And that you don't always have to have everything 100% figured out, because there will be things like Nutella Pie and salted caramel brownies to fill the part that remains uncertain.

At an Italian restaurant in Charlotte celebrating Momma's birthday

I suppose the only thing I can do is get a grip, suck it up, and just chill out. Have some fun while life is sorting out the details for me. Try to distract myself by giving up some part of my daily routine (i.e. Facebook... we'll see how long this lasts) to understand sacrifice. Before I know it, something great will just fall in my lap, wrapped up in a nice little bow. That counts as a plan, right?

Words of Wisdom from My Teabag

For some reason that sounds dirty.

Knowing Better

At 8:00 am: "I know you know better."

At 11:40 am: "Come on! You know better than that."

At 3:40 pm: "He knows better than to act that way."

How many times have you heard someone say that? "You should know better." The more I say it, the more awkward it sounds and the more I think about it, the less it makes sense. When you have to say it out loud, whether it's to yourself or someone else, obviously the person it is directed towards either DOESN'T know better or doesn't really care.

Prime example: when I was 15, I drank vodka out of a water bottle, passed out within an hour, talked about drinking vodka out of a water bottle on AIM, and left the whole conversation in the trash can on our family computer. Should I have known better? Probably. Did it stop me? No way.

I had a point when I started this post, but I'm too tired to make it now. I should know better. Maybe I'll do a Part II on this one as well.

Knock, Knock

It's me, Sara. Given that it's one o'clock and I've just woken up, you're probably assuming I went out last night and you would be right.  However, I did not sleep in because of my late arrival home.  I slept in because after getting home and eating a few sugar-free Snack Packs, I had no choice but to finish reading the last book in the Steig Larsson series, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest.  For two hours.  I say I had no choice because all I could think about while I was out was how it was going to end.  So when songs I didn't know came on (and for some reason, there seemed to be a lot), I speculated about the plot.  Nerd?  Yes.

Which actually is not why I wanted to write this blog.  Waking up in the afternoon is pretty out of character for me.  I don't really sleep in anymore, and I DEFINITELY don't nap anymore.  And not that I'm some kind of pop music junkie, but there usually aren't too many occasions when I've never heard a song before in a bar and everyone else has.

Of course, I'm not saying that I've just transformed into a nerd now.  I've always been a nerd.  But in the wake of all these cover pages and personal statements, I actually have to think about how I present myself.  Which means I have to figure out at least a general idea of what kind of person I've turned into since 24 six- and seven-year-olds became the center of my world.  With an upcoming phone conversation with a prospective employer, I'm sure they're going to ask me to tell them about myself.  I used to be able to do that.  Now... well, let's just say that telling people that you schedule out your week in meals every Sunday is not exactly the most interesting life detail.

Even beyond that purpose- how do I go about figuring what I want to do with my life now?  A year and a half ago, when I graduated, I had a much better grip on the kind of person I was and I still had no idea.  People ask me why I'm applying to certain jobs and not others, and all I can tell them is- "Well, I don't really know."  Someone who sat next to me on the plane on my way home for Christmas break told me to have faith that the steps I take in my twenties will eventually lead me down the right path.  He didn't sound quite that spiritual, but he seemed to have a good point.  If you want something, even if it's quite vague, you naturally position yourself in a place to achieve that goal.  It's what happened to him.  Granted, he had an MBA from Harvard, so I'm pretty sure he could've done quite a lot of jobs he didn't want as well.

Now that my book is finished, I guess I have some time to try to figure out where it is that I'm going, which will not be an easy task given that this blog post doesn't even have any direction.  I'm just thinking out loud.  Wish me luck.

It's Okay, I'm in Teach For America

As I apply to law schools and various jobs in one of the worst economic recessions in history, I can't help but feel like I'm immune to it all.  It's not just me.  Most of my friends in TFA are following the same type of path, applying to prestigious grad schools and job programs and not blinking twice.  It makes me think of those old Holiday inn commercials, because almost everyone answers questions of competitiveness with the same answer- "It's okay, I'm in Teach For America."

It's not necessarily that we're cocky, but we've been inflated quite a bit by all the hype that's going around.  My year the acceptance rate was around 11%, so I think our self-esteem has been boosted by the difficulty of just getting into the program, and even more by the difficulty of sticking with it for two years.  As I get deeper into the law school application process and the job application process, I'm pretty tempted to submit a letter that just says, "I did TFA.  Isn't that enough?" I'm starting to second-guess that mentality, but am still holding out for people to be wildly impressed.  False hope?

Probably.  But at the very least I've gained confidence that if I ever get thrown into a situation for which I'm completely unprepared, I WILL come out alive-not too bad of a feeling.

Snow Day Code

My mom came in this weekend on her way down to Florida for her two month retirement vacation.  I've been counting on her to pull me out of my quarter-life crisis and advise me on EXACTLY what to do with my life and how to do it.  Unfortunately, I guess other people can't give you that advice and I'm on my own.  This didn't help my situation much.

What DID help my situation was the fact that the entire city of Charlotte shut down today (including CMS) because of the greatest amount of snowfall in seven years.  Maybe it was only four inches, but I'll take it.  Not to mention that our apartment complex looks like a winter wonderland (see below).

Snowpocalypse!

Although my mom wasn't able to tell me what to do with the rest of my life, she was able to introduce my roommates and me to "The Snow Day Code."  Let me elaborate.

Part I: The Anticipation
Teachers (and students) know what I'm talking about- it's a crisp and clear school night and the smell of snow is in the air.  All the meteorologists are calling for snow, or, if you're in the South, last minute trips to the grocery store to stock up on 30 days worth of canned food and bottled water.  The pieces are there, but ultimately, the fate of the next day lies in the hands of the snow gods.  Who need a little extra nudging in the form of interpretive movement.

Yes, kids, I'm talking about the snow day dance.  You are probably familiar with the superstitions- wearing your pajamas inside out, banging on pots and pans, shamelessly trying to convince your parents to let you have a sleepover with your friends because there will DEFINITELY not be school the next day.  But my mom (and probably her clan of former KP beavers) have PERFECTED the snow day traditions with a fail proof routine.

For snow, simply chant the words "Blow and drift!" while moving your hands and hips erratically from side to side.  It works best if you have had a few cocktails beforehand.

Snow not in the forecast?  Relying instead on other forms of inclement winter weather to cancel your workday?  The magic words for that one would be "Sleet and freeing rain!" sung while shaking your keys over head.  Again, the sound of the keys against an aluminum beer can usually intensifies the chant.

Needless to say, it worked.  From what I've heard, teachers almost always get called in for a workday in spit of poor weather, so the announcement of "Code C" this morning at 4:30 am (meaning essential personnel only) was quite exciting.

Part II: The Enjoyment
According to my mom, there are several key essentials to a successful snow day.  First of all, you need to jump up and down ecstatically when you first hear the news (check).  Next, you have to watch the local news station for at least an hour to make sure that it's for real (check).  After those two steps, the real snow day enjoyment begins.

Rule #1: Snow days are free days, not days to catch up on work.
My roommates and I failed this one.  Because of my recent crisis, I spent the morning applying to jobs and convincing myself I was doomed to live in my parents' basement, penniless, for the rest of my life.  One roommate was tracking student data.  The other was organizing papers.  My mom nearly had to force Kahlua and hot chocolate on us to get us to stop.  Which leads to...

Rule #2: Snow days require at least one nap and at least one alcoholic beverage.
I don't think this one takes much explanation.  We finally caught on after Ellen's prompting.

Movie time with appropriate snow day snacks

Rule #3: You must wear the most embarrassing lounging around clothing that you own.
This means rainbow pajama paints, multi-colored fleece socks, and stained sweatshirts.  The comfiest things you own.  I don't care if the Queen of England is coming to pay you a personal visit- this is the code.  I was sufficiently embarrassed when the maintenance man came in to turn off or carbon monoxide alarm after an unfortunate fireplace incident, but again- the code.

Part III: The Wind Down
All you need for this stage is a good meal.  And a TV with a weather report so you can check the chances of an additional snow day tomorrow, giving yourself ample time to digest and possibly do another dance.  Join me again in about six hours, and we might have another chance to get the snow day code right tomorrow.

New Year, New Look

I spent a good part of today adjusting my blog layout.  I figured that since I was no longer a first year teacher, I needed to at least change the blog title.  Then I got a little edit crazy.  It's pretty weird to think how much things have changed for me this past year, and it only makes me realize how much could change this year too.  To borrow a TFA word, this time of year always makes me more reflective than I normally would be.  It's pretty easy to think of things that you want to change- floss more, eat better, exercise- but I think too often people don't think about things they should continue doing.  So this year, rather than looking for things to change, I want to find the things that I should keep the same.

1. Getting 'er done: after working relentlessly (another TFA catchphrase) for the first two months of 2010, I started to burn out.  I ended my first year feeling a little like I let my kids down, and thought a lot over the summer about how I could leave at a reasonable hour and still have everything done.  I'm pretty proud to see how much more on top of my work I am this year, and I'm not going to let mid-year doldrums cause me to slack off.
   
2. Having a life: part of the good that came out that February burn-out was that I finally started taking care of myself.  It started out with my yoga endeavors and gradually began to include actual social interaction.  I stopped working all weekend and started having fun.  I finally made friends (at least two!) and felt like a real person.  I'm definitely continuing THAT tradition.

Erin and I sampling beers mid-week

Pretending to be a doctor with Al and her med school friends at a Wake end-of-year party

Sunday Funday at the U. S. Whitewater Center

Starting to make each other dinners... my fiesta fajita bar, complete with Coronas and margs

...and shrimp scampi with bruschetta.

Live music at a gallery crawl in NoDa

Actually having time to Skype Jack... even though he has a lamp coming out of his head.

  

I guess what it all comes down to is continuing to try to balance everything out- work, friends, family, and molding the youth of America.  There's not much more that could really make my life that much better, because in spite of all the complaints I can come up with and the negativity that sometimes seems to suffocate me, I am an extremely lucky girl.

Oh, and (of course), I want to floss more.

Slap on the Hand

In the teaching world, it's called in action plan.  In real life, I think you could call it "the mom guilt trip" but either way, I'm in trouble.

Yes, yes, I'm referring to my blogging (or lack thereof).  Reading previous blogs had made me realize that it's not just that I'm blogging less often, but I'm writing shorter and less interesting posts.  Have I become jaded?  Am I now immune to the hilarity of my kids?  What happened?

Last year, my students never ceased to amaze me with the ridiculous things that they did.  One day it was asking me to blow in their eye, the next it was a kid drawing a picture that looked like a horrendous homicide/rape that turned out to be him getting stung by a bee (must have been traumatizing).  This year... none of that.  Maybe I'm SO focused on my improved instructional methods that I don't notice those little things anymore, or maybe they've ceased occurring because the only thing that happens in my room is student mastery of objectives.

I'm more inclined to believe that I'm paying less attention.

So what to blog about now that my life isn't a free fall of death and my kids are generally well-behaved and under control?  It's been difficult, especially being busy with all this extra "figuring out my career" thing.  There aren't very many quirky things about applying to law schools; in fact, it's probably one of the least exciting things to blog about.  I'm wondering if this is a normal progression- part of getting older and growing up.  Do you just naturally become more boring?  I hope not.  But when given a chance to poke fun at my life and the other people in it, one of my FAVORITE pastimes, I pass it up to play Web Sudoku or scrub my baseboards (okay, I've only done that once... but still).

The more I thought about it, the more I feel like our overall fun-ness fluctuates something like this:

I honestly think I'm going to have to wait until retirement to return to the fun level I was in college.  Not only will I not have to work, but I'll have all this money to spend on whatever I want.  Take my parents, for instance- retired (or close enough, anyway).  They are having a blast.  My dad just bought a new shower with 10 different settings, including one strangely similar to getting sprayed full blast by a hose.  They've turned the office into a bar, and have bought four flat screen LED TVs for three rooms in our downstairs.  Pretty soon, the attic will be turned into a dance club and my room will be the new hookah lounge.  Then there's my nana, who probably parties harder than most 22-year-old frat boys.  With all the money she saves on vodka with her mail-in rebates, she can pretty much do whatever she wants with her AWOL (Available Widows On the Loose) friends.

I should probably readjust my attitude, seeing that if I don't I'm sentencing myself to 30 years of very low life enjoyment, but I think I might be onto something.  Until then, I'll try to go back to noticing my students and all the crazy things they do so that the two most fun people I know (Mom and Nana) stop pointing out what a boring person I've become.

We actually reach full maturation at age six

I've found a kind of scary parallel between college students and first graders in the past year.  It's weird how many things seem like a flashback to when I was in school- I never thought I'd be cleaning vomit off a carpet again, at least.

Today, it that feeling was stronger than ever after I found an index card in my room that said "I love Immanuel.  as my boyfren."

I pulled Immanuel over to me and asked him whether he knew who wrote it.

The look he gave me was a look filled with so much fear and horror I thought something else had happened to him.  He started to cry, and in between his sobs he said, "I... don't... have... a... girlfriend..."

The funny part is I'm pretty sure I've seen that face before in college.  I think that's how most 20-something guys act when they're the last ones to find out they have a girlfriend.  Jack reacted the same way when he found the note I wrote about him being my boyfriend in the Psi U basement bathroom.

Heavy on the Head

Since coming back to Charlotte, I've been spending most of my free time figuring out law school stuff (the remainder of that free time is probably spent wandering around aimlessly in Target) and it's making my head hurt.  First of all, I have to study for the LSAT and have found myself dreaming of doctors labeled F,G, H, J, K and of their X, Y, Z patients.  Or of factories A, B, C and their coincidental processing of products that conveniently start with sequential letters of the alphabet (i.e. steel, timber, and uranium).  On top of that, I've been navigating TFA's partnerships with various schools, deciding arbitrarily to apply to any school that waives the application fee and happens to fall in my general bubble of geographical acceptability (which probably covers the entire country).

All this time I'm wondering if this is really what I want to do, or simply the easiest next step.  Most people pretty much have their whole life decided for them up to age 22, but then we get out of college and have a minor (or major) freak out because there are so many acceptable paths.  The easiest one is continuing to go to school.  After seventeen years of being a student, most of us are pretty good at it (or at least used to it), so its the most comfortable choice.  After working for a year, I am fully NOT in support of people going to more school right after school, except maybe med school (and even then, I'm skeptical).  It puts off the real world, with real bills and real work hours.  Plus you don't get paid (and even if you're getting a small paycheck, it's pretty liberating to be "living on your own," even if that means eating spaghetti every night and using sugar-free Popsicles as a replacement for air-conditioning).  And, most importantly, you get out with these great academic qualifications... and no work experience.  None.  The last one's more of an opinion of mine, but pretty true nonetheless.

In light of all that, I'm still thinking of going back to school because it's the safe choice.  It puts the next job decision on the back burner and lets me do what I love doing- reading and writing papers- all while escaping from the life where a real live paycheck let me pay my real live bills.  Now it will be a real live interest accruing loan paying my real live bills instead.  Is that really what I want to do?  Who knows.  But at least it's keeping me busy.

Go Getter

I was afforded a lot of extra think time today thanks to the hopelessly boring drive from Western Massachusetts to my house in Painted Post.  The monotonous scenery and static-ridden radio stations are enough to make anyone's mind wander.  I, considering myself an especially pensive person (mainly because of an overactive imagination and a tendency to try to write novels in my head), was no exception.

I got to thinking about how the best way to get the life you want.  I thought about all the things I have done (or not done), about what has gotten me to the point I am at right now.  And I realized that it's actually quite simple.

You just have to go out and get it.

Okay, okay, this isn't always as easy as it sounds.  Most people believe that they do TRY to get the things they want in life but I think usually people just don't try ENOUGH.  I used to be (and in some ways, still am) a very shy and passive person.  I hated making people go out of their way.  I'd eat food I didn't order, avoid eye contact with acquaintances to get out of small talk, and nix voicing my opinion because I didn't want to cause a conflict.  That is not how to do it.

The main reason for this is that people aren't mind-readers.  This applies most directly to people-to-people relationships.  Most people think that their eye twitches alone are enough to let others know how they feel, as if they spoke in some kind of bodily Morse code in which all human beings were fluent.  Even the most perceptive people I know cannot pick up on everything.  What you have to do is TALK.  ASK.  I have always wanted to get on a direct flight when I have connections.  I never ask or, if I do, make a very pathetic attempt.  Recently, I went up to three different ticket counters to get on a direct flight.  And guess what?  I got on one.  All because I asked.  Maybe three times... but still.  I asked.

And sometimes, when asking isn't enough or when it waters down your request, you just have to take it.  One fellow TFA corps member put it quite nicely-

"In teaching, I've learned that you're better off asking for forgiveness rather than permission."

If you do something and it works, people tend to forget that you weren't supposed to do it in the first place. Hell, that's how I showed my boyfriend I was interested and it's one of the only times I've ever really put myself out there rather than waiting for someone else to do it themselves.

In re-reading this I realize it sounds like one of those books you find in the self-help sections, usually with a picture of an overweight balding guy holding his arms out as if to say, "Look how happy I look!  This stuff must work!"  That's not really my intention... just wanted to point it out.

Graduation, Take Two

I realized something after this weekend- Graduation is a lot more fun when you don't have to worry about the whole graduating part.  I got to pretend I was in college again, relive Tent City in all its glory (and oh... it was glorious), and enjoy all the other benefits of Trinity's graduation festivities WITHOUT the sentimental and buzz-killing side effects.  For me last year, it was having to say goodbye to some of my best friends... and the fact that my parent's got in a head-on collision with an (allegedly) coked-out Trin alum.

I was one of the few who was excited for the day to come because it meant seeing my wonderful boyfriend for the first time in six weeks.  All the while, I was fully aware that most of the people on the other side were counting down the days in dread rather than in ecstatic anticipation.  But it still gave me a chance to look back at where I was at this time a year ago, at how I was feeling about coming into the elusive "real world", and about how much better their graduation speaker was than ours.  My thoughts?

You never know how lucky you are.

I don't mean that as a way of saying "Enjoy getting drunk in college as long as you can, because you can never do that again!"  First of all, that is not true.  You absolutely CAN get as drunk as you did in college, although now it's frowned upon.  In a bigger sense, I don't think a lot of people realize just how much they have working in their favor to be able to attend college, pay for college, graduate from college.  People don't realize how lucky they are to be healthy, functioning adults, to have friends and family that love and support them.  As much as occasions like graduation are sad, I think they're also a testament to the myriad of positive things we have in our lives.  If anything, that's what this weekend made me think about (besides how much I missed my friends from Trin).

I was going to write this slightly sentimental post right when I got back, but getting bronchitis and an ear infection on the plane ride home kind of robbed that feel-good, Hallmark-y feeling I had going on.  Thank goodness the antibiotics kicked in.

Inspiration Boards

My cheesy roommate has gotten me hooked on the idea that if we surround ourselves with reminders of the kind of people we want to be, it will keep us motivated and focused on the end result.  SO this weekend I was busy cutting pictures out of magazines that embodied the things I was striving to achieve.  (Note: an excellent procrastination technique for actually taking steps to becoming the kind of person you want to be).

My boyfriend just laughed at me, especially because I spent ten minutes of our Skype date showing him my "inspiration board" by holding it 2 inches away from my webcam.  But it's an interesting concept to think about, whether all that positive thinking and association really works.  Whether just thinking results in actually becoming.

There's a book that a lot of people bought into (and made fun of) called "The Secret," focused around the power of positive thinking.  It used the idea of a concept board too, asserting that if you just thought about the things you wanted, asked for the things you wanted, went as far as pretending you already had these things, they would just come to you.  Think about big checks coming, and big checks would start coming, conveniently arriving right in your mailbox!

This new age kind of thing is easy to criticize and laugh about-  after all, if it was that easy, everyone would be doing it and everyone would have just what they wanted, right?

But I think if you strip away all the gimmicky stuff about getting money or the perfect man or the perfect job, if you look at the idea, you can find a lot of support for it in other places.  All those sayings that coaches deal out to their players, the proverbs e-mailed by nonprofit organizations to their supporters, the Hallmark cards celebrating hard work and effort, Michael Jordan's quote books- they all say the same thing.

       "The positive thinker sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible."
       "Whether you think you can or you can't, you're right."
       "You miss 100% of the shots you don't take."

Then I found this one (which really just made me laugh, AND think of my roomie):

       "A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, 
        but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort."

The place I see this idea put in practice more than anywhere else, though, is in religion- another thing my roommate has sucked me into.  Last week, I went with her to this thing in Charlotte for young Christians to get together and do whatever it is that young Christians would want to do on a Tuesday night.  We had to go to a bar afterward to take the edge off for me.  Anyway, the session topic was all about having faith that God is going to provide you with the things you need as long as you keep living your life in the Christian way.

Aside from the overwhelming religious message in the whole thing, it really made me think about this idea of faith.  Not necessarily faith in God, but faith in general.  So much of the time people define faith in a religious way.  But really, what is the difference in faith put in God and faith put in something else?  Wherever you are applying it- whether you have an unshakable faith in the goodness of people, in the loyalty of your friends, family, and lovers, in yourself- it really has the same kind of effect.  Generally, people who have strong faith in their friends have pretty good friends.  People who believe in humankind are going to look at life through that lens and generally will focus on the things that affirm that faith and downplay the things that do not.  People who love themselves and think highly of themselves are usually going to be pretty pleased with themselves.

To me, the idea is that positive thinking and faith works because you believe it will.  You're making an active choice to see things a certain way, and usually, that works.

So I'm going to keep looking at my inspiration board, willing myself to have a six pack like the one I cut out, and dancing around in booty shorts and a sports bra to get my butt nice and tight.  Positive thinking like that works, right?

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

Or at least it is now. I'm sitting in the Philly airport, enjoying my lengthy two and a half hour layover (that isn't sarcasm... I really do like layovers), so ready to be HOME for the first time since July. It's funny, because there's always such a love-hate relationship with where you're from, especially when it's a small town. You grow up conditioned to hate it, cutting down the people that stick around and vowing to pack up and get out after high school and never come back. But I think once you leave, it becomes easier to see how important that place was in defining the person you become in adulthood. Or really, defining the person you DON'T become. In some ways, my hometown had a more decisive role in helping me understand who I wasn't. Plus, when I think about all the incredible relationships I came out with- friends mentioned in my 2nd grade journal, strong family ties- I can't help but take back all the criticisms I have from when I was younger. Then again, those things are hard to grasp when all you think about is the endless gossip chain and the lack of things to do.

I say this with all my 23 years of wisdom (THAT was sarcasm). Maybe the moment I finally embraced my hometown came when I could start drinking legally, because as anyone from there knows the bar life is one of its redeeming qualities. I think I'll stick with mushy, sentimental reason. And with that, my flight's boarding!

The Doldrums of March

Milo and Tock from The Phantom Tollbooth

The Phantom Tollbooth is one of my favorite childhood books, SUCH a favorite that even talking about it makes me want to drive to a bookstore and buy it so that I can re-read it (for about the millionth time).  Lately, the only way I've been able to describe the month of March has been as "the Doldrums," a colorless place in the book where thinking and laughing are not allowed.  Here's a little piece of the book to let you know what it's like (spoken by the Lethargians, who live in the Doldrums):


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"Well, if you can't laugh or think, what can you do?" asked Milo.


"Anything as long as it's nothing, and everything as long as it isn't anything," explained another. "There's lots to do; we have a very busy schedule- at 8 o'clock we get up, and then we spend from 8 to 9 daydreaming.  From 9 to 9:30 we take our early midmorning nap.  From 9:30 to 10:30 we dawdle and delay.  From 10:30 to 11:30 we take our late early morning nap.  From ll:00 to 12:00 we bide our time and then eat lunch.  From l:00 to 2:00 we linger and loiter.  From 2:00 to 2:30 we take our early afternoon nap.  From 2:30 to 3:30 we put off for tomorrow what we could have done today.  From 3:30 to 4:00 we take our early late afternoon nap.  From 4:00 to 5:00 we loaf and lounge until dinner.  From 6:00 to 7:00 we dillydally.  From 7:00 to 8:00 we take our early evening nap, and then for an hour before we go to bed at 9:00 we waste time.  As you can see, that leaves almost no time for brooding, lagging, plodding, or procrastinating, and if we stopped to think or laugh, we'd never get nothing done."


"You mean you'd never get anything done," corrected Milo.


"We don't want to get anything done," snapped another angrily; "we want to get nothing done, and we can do that without your help."


"You see," continued another in a more conciliatory tone, "It's really quite strenuous doing nothing all day, so once a week we take a holiday and go nowhere, which was just where we were going when you came along. Would you care to join us?"


"I might as well," thought Milo; "that's where I seem to be going anyway."


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It's not that I've been doing nothing all month, and it's not like I haven't been thinking or laughing at all this month, but I'm definitely ready for Spring Break (and spring weather).  I can only hope that a giant dog with an alarm clock as a body comes to rescue me, or I get a note addressed to "Sara, who now knows the way."


I would make this post longer, but I really think I need to go buy this book again.

Identity Crisis

It's Sunday night, so the typical emo-child mood is beginning to set in. Unfortunately, I left the power cord to my computer at school, leaving me to blog via Blackberry and severely hindering my output of semi-cliched and -depressing blabber. Maybe that's for the best.

I'm coming to the realization that what is so hard about this whole experience goes a lot deeper than it being TFA, or the first year teaching. It's about it being my first year out of college and not knowing who I am. For so long, I (along with most other people my age) considered myself a student. It's the first way I identified myself, whether I was identifying with the academic parts of being a student or the less academic parts. Now I don't know how to identify myself. It's like those restaurants that move into old Pizza Huts or IHOPs- it might say "Indian Sunrise Buffet" on the outside, but it doesn't seem to be fooling anyone.

That's about all you'll get out of me tonight because my thumbs are cramping up.