This blog post is about love.
That may seem a little... anticlamactic, perhaps, but at this time in my life where I feel like my toes are on the edge of the cliff, it seems like everything comes back to love.
I went home this weekend for a very short trip to celebrate my niece's first birthday. It was just the perfect length trip for me to see everyone but not really connect again. Especially with my father. I decided to spend saturday night with my cousin because I get to see her less often than my parents, and I also thought that I'd be spending lots of time with my parents the next day at the birthday party. Well, my dad didn't end up going to the birthday party because he recently broke a tooth and is in some pain (which is a whole other ordeal with us not having health insurance because now both of my parents are unemployed). So I saw him for about an hour when I got home Friday night... about an hour on Saturday between errands and when I went to my cousin's... and then today right before heading back to campus. For as complicated as our relationship is, he's still my dad and I still love him to death. Having to turn right around after a day and a half in town was so so so hard. Pulling out of the driveway and having him show me our "I love you" sign made me REALLY not want to come back to school.
The sermon today in church was about love. Not simply the romantic kind of love, but the love of relationships. And I think a big part of what it comes down to is vulnerability. To be close to someone, to have that connection, you must make yourself vulnerable or it will never happen. Some emotion, some event, opens the door where you show the other person 'this is how I'm feeling, this is what's happening, I need help, or I need support'. And every relationship has this mutual Opening of the Vulnerability Door, otherwise the relationship will never grow and evolve. So much of it is an 'i love you, you love me back' feeling that cements the relationship together. Seriously, this is literally a giant billboard from God or the Universe or whatever for EXACTLY what is going on in my life right now.
And that brings me to another thing - the college dating culture. Wait, what college dating culture? MY POINT EXACTLY. Everyone is so into the instant gratification and hooking up is rampant around here. But I don't want to hook up. I want to find someone who will not make me feel so freaking alone. Not that I am lonely, far from it. But sometimes the way my brain works makes me feel like no one really 'gets' me. And wouldn't it be nice to find someone who got me.
Pity, party of one.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Do you want a back rub or a mountain dew?
This is the start of my seventh week of my last semester of my senior year. I've been neglecting writing not because there is a shortage of things to talk about - no - it's because I've been too damn busy and lazy to write. What a surprise.
So, with this seven weeks thing comes the fact that I have only two weeks left at my current student teaching placement. I've been teaching middle and high school band at two schools 12 minutes (or so, depending on the bus and garbage truck schedule) away from campus. It has been: exhausting, exciting, frustrating, challenging, motivating, and at times hilarious. Nothing at school ever prepared me to deal with middle schoolers, and dear god do I never want to deal with them again. My sixth grade band is the biggest challenge by far. A) There are approximately 70 of them in class each day B) They are so bloody hormonal and hyper and CRAZY that it's all I can do to get them to Calm Down. I thought for sure the high school band was going to be the worst, but I've gotten to the point where I can joke with them and they actually think it's funny (let's reflect on my past band directors... lacking in the funnyness department) and they respect me enough to listen, be quiet, and take what I have to say and do to heart. It's such a joy to be with players who actually want to be there, unlike at the middle school where there are still some stragglers stuck in the ensemble who really don't give a crap.
One thing that set me back a bit this semester was the nose I happened to break myself about three weeks ago. It had been healing nicely with little to no pain left until I came down with this disgusting cold/sinus infection last thursday. All the snot-blowing and sneezing and coughing I've done has really done a number on my poor nose. It's throbbing right now. I really don't want to get the peas back out of the freezer, but I fear I might have to just to go to sleep tonight.
Another surprising event was a very unexpected email from a long-lost friend... okay, not really. My high school band director is a bit notorious for being, shall we say lax, on the whole keeping-in-touch concept. Mind you, this guy basically told me that if I wanted to study music in college that he would support me every step of the way, and that I had the power to do anything I wanted. I'd sent a few emails over the past few months with no reply, and by this point I was shooting in the dark for some kind of contact. I sent him a short email telling him how I was teaching middle and high school band and of course didn't get a reply - no surprise. But then, about a week and a half after I sent the email, I DID get a reply! Wonder of wonders. I immediately read it... and I immediately had tears in my eyes. Besides the note he sent me when I graduated high school, this was some of the most heartfelt writing I've ever recieved. I'm not going to post the whole thing on here because part of me wants to keep it close to myself (read: I'm a little selfish) but I will put down a few things:
Where do I begin... It's good to know that I didn't piss him off or anything because I didn't hear from him for so long - the thought did go through my head. And working through my own feelings of nostalgia at finishing college is magnified because he helped me begin here. This is one of those things you hang onto for forever.
Now that I've looked back, I shall look ahead. I found out today that we got $6,000 from the university for a position with Promise. We're up to a total of $16,000 which makes my future in The Field much, much more realistic. We just have to go through all the process of applying for a position and also dealing with room and board. In talking to Dr. w last week, he said we have one position for sure. Even though this is all happening I am really trying my hardest to not get overly excited about it. We are taking big steps in the right direction but I don't want to get my hopes too high and then be heartbroken if it doesn't work out. Hell, what if I don't even get chosen for the position? This is too much to think about. I hate having everything so unknown.
Oh, one more thing - I shot a gun this weekend. Don't worry, it was all in a safe shooting range environment. Frankly I was more than a little terrified - everything I've ever been taught is to run in the opposite direction of guns. But my best friend's brother is an MP (or was, I guess) and he has a .22 rifle and a .30 rifle. And I guess it's life experience I should have? Who knows. Anyway, I shot the .22 first and it was, besides being so morally against everything I knew, moderately cool. No recoil, not too loud, good control. But of course guys have to have the next-best-thing, so Ryan got out his .33 rifle. That sucker was LOUD. And the bullets were twice the size of the .22. Ryan had his kicks and then let Rachel and I try it. Had a little more kick than the other, but still not much - it's still quite frightening though. The shooting range is not a place for twitchy people. I was so hyper-sensitive.
Anyway, I gotta get to bed because with this sinus crap I need all the sleep I can to kick it to the curb. And I gotta get up early tomorrow for the first time in six days to teach.
P.S. Boys suck.
So, with this seven weeks thing comes the fact that I have only two weeks left at my current student teaching placement. I've been teaching middle and high school band at two schools 12 minutes (or so, depending on the bus and garbage truck schedule) away from campus. It has been: exhausting, exciting, frustrating, challenging, motivating, and at times hilarious. Nothing at school ever prepared me to deal with middle schoolers, and dear god do I never want to deal with them again. My sixth grade band is the biggest challenge by far. A) There are approximately 70 of them in class each day B) They are so bloody hormonal and hyper and CRAZY that it's all I can do to get them to Calm Down. I thought for sure the high school band was going to be the worst, but I've gotten to the point where I can joke with them and they actually think it's funny (let's reflect on my past band directors... lacking in the funnyness department) and they respect me enough to listen, be quiet, and take what I have to say and do to heart. It's such a joy to be with players who actually want to be there, unlike at the middle school where there are still some stragglers stuck in the ensemble who really don't give a crap.
One thing that set me back a bit this semester was the nose I happened to break myself about three weeks ago. It had been healing nicely with little to no pain left until I came down with this disgusting cold/sinus infection last thursday. All the snot-blowing and sneezing and coughing I've done has really done a number on my poor nose. It's throbbing right now. I really don't want to get the peas back out of the freezer, but I fear I might have to just to go to sleep tonight.
Another surprising event was a very unexpected email from a long-lost friend... okay, not really. My high school band director is a bit notorious for being, shall we say lax, on the whole keeping-in-touch concept. Mind you, this guy basically told me that if I wanted to study music in college that he would support me every step of the way, and that I had the power to do anything I wanted. I'd sent a few emails over the past few months with no reply, and by this point I was shooting in the dark for some kind of contact. I sent him a short email telling him how I was teaching middle and high school band and of course didn't get a reply - no surprise. But then, about a week and a half after I sent the email, I DID get a reply! Wonder of wonders. I immediately read it... and I immediately had tears in my eyes. Besides the note he sent me when I graduated high school, this was some of the most heartfelt writing I've ever recieved. I'm not going to post the whole thing on here because part of me wants to keep it close to myself (read: I'm a little selfish) but I will put down a few things:
I want you to know that I think about you a lot. I know I haven't talked to you enough. You're ending your beginning. I've thought about that more than maybe you know.
Though the end might not be everything you thought, it helps to know that it's part of that circle your started long before we ever met. I've always felt good about being a part of that.
Where do I begin... It's good to know that I didn't piss him off or anything because I didn't hear from him for so long - the thought did go through my head. And working through my own feelings of nostalgia at finishing college is magnified because he helped me begin here. This is one of those things you hang onto for forever.
Now that I've looked back, I shall look ahead. I found out today that we got $6,000 from the university for a position with Promise. We're up to a total of $16,000 which makes my future in The Field much, much more realistic. We just have to go through all the process of applying for a position and also dealing with room and board. In talking to Dr. w last week, he said we have one position for sure. Even though this is all happening I am really trying my hardest to not get overly excited about it. We are taking big steps in the right direction but I don't want to get my hopes too high and then be heartbroken if it doesn't work out. Hell, what if I don't even get chosen for the position? This is too much to think about. I hate having everything so unknown.
Oh, one more thing - I shot a gun this weekend. Don't worry, it was all in a safe shooting range environment. Frankly I was more than a little terrified - everything I've ever been taught is to run in the opposite direction of guns. But my best friend's brother is an MP (or was, I guess) and he has a .22 rifle and a .30 rifle. And I guess it's life experience I should have? Who knows. Anyway, I shot the .22 first and it was, besides being so morally against everything I knew, moderately cool. No recoil, not too loud, good control. But of course guys have to have the next-best-thing, so Ryan got out his .33 rifle. That sucker was LOUD. And the bullets were twice the size of the .22. Ryan had his kicks and then let Rachel and I try it. Had a little more kick than the other, but still not much - it's still quite frightening though. The shooting range is not a place for twitchy people. I was so hyper-sensitive.
Anyway, I gotta get to bed because with this sinus crap I need all the sleep I can to kick it to the curb. And I gotta get up early tomorrow for the first time in six days to teach.
P.S. Boys suck.
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