hot and zaftig

The temperature is hovering between OMG and WTF.  When I came back from my walk after 9pm, the sign read 96 degrees.  9pm.  It was definitely over 100 during the day. Cra-zy.

I had lunch with a friend, who I decided before hand would have the answer to my vocational conundrum.  He didn't.  But the food was really good. I had pasta primavera.  So, I thought I didn't like Italian.  Turns out, I do.  So, I learned something... just not the key to my future.

Yea, my diet lasted a whopping 3.5 days.  I'll try again after July 4th.  Maybe... probably.  I have lunch and then a party tomorrow.  I'm doomed-- all this social life is killing me (seriously, I'm going to have gone out at least once for 8 days straight).  Zaftig ain't all bad; I'll just have to strategize who to stand next to in pictures.

whatever... libraries are expensive

I went to the library in Charlotte to check on my fines: $26.50.  That's a hard back at Barnes and Noble. I had several books that moved with me.  I finally remembered to turn them in a couple of months later. (Fines max out at $10; librarians do have some heart.)

The fines are bad enough, but the librarian's snarky attitude.  I probably should have suggested she whisper; instead, I got her to print them out.  I have the printout in my purse just in case.

Goodwill, Value Village, Salvation Army... these are the best places to shop for books.

Don't worry: I have two library cards.  Take that, uptight library lady! I'm still in business.

grand slam!

1. I donated six boxes of books to my church.  Of course they were in liquor boxes I got at the ABC store.  Of course my donation coincided with the  second day of Vacation Bible School with a sea of munchkins.  Only one of the boxes had a picture: the Absolut.  The church librarian told me that if the church didn't want them (or if they'd better suit the need), she'd put them in the box that we collect books for a theological school in Africa.  One of our members periodically goes and teaches, and he takes the books with him.  It's hard to imagine a Seminary with few books.  I've decided I should probably go through my books again and see if there are more I should donate.  I can be incredibly greedy with my books. And it's less claustrophobic in the room.

2. I made some delicious blackberry yoghurt cake after getting a half gallon of blackberries at the farmers' market.  Don't worry: it only uses a small bowl.  This is really simple and quick... provided you have the 6 ingredients or so.  I highly recommend it.  (Yes, I cheated on my madness/diet.)

3. I went with my cousin who's going into 10th grade to the free night at the Mint Uptown Art Gallery. We had a lot of fun.  It's nice to go with a kindred spirit-- she was enthralled by all the dogs in portraits as I was... or at least she pretended to be.  And, she was entertained by the private party too.  There was a human contortionist in this inordinately large clear ball.  It was bizarre and disturbing, and I couldn't stop staring.  Not to mention, there was a girl in glammed-out fire-engine-red ball gown with a gigantic bow over her butt.  It was very surreal.  The guests (except for a few guys) seemed far more interested in chatting with one another.  Then, after our high-faluting gallery visit, we ate white trash burgers and crab puppies at Pinkie's Westside Grill.  It was pretty awesome. (Yes, I cheated again.)

4. I applied to my overseas positions.  I'm a little nervous and incredibly excited about the opportunity. My main hesitation is the feeling that I'm refusing a chance at getting married and having children.  But, I figure that it's not like I'm meeting any guys here.  And, as long as I'm miserable and depressed, I'm not going to really attract someone worth forever.  M helped with the idea of meeting one guy.  That's all it takes.  I figure there may be the "one guy" in a foreign place.  But, overall I'm excited because it'd put me on track financially and career-wise.  I could write while there.

again

Another stinking rejection today was received by me; they'd already filled the post. This is the easiest kind of rejection, but it still sucks. Not that I would want to move to Atlanta, but it was better than some of my alternatives.  And, the school seemed cool.

When I got over my total despair (that lasted about an hour), I worked on my resume.  I'm meeting a very astute friend on Friday for lunch.  He suggested that I rewrite my resume.  These are the two paragraphs of his I focused on today:

Your resume portrays you as smart and energetic, which is good. Business people are looking for transferable skills, but do not understand education well enough to make all the connections. You can help them by being more explicit about what you did in each job. The TA and house adult jobs would be especially interesting in displaying your organizational and interpersonal skills. Three to five tasks per job would provide more impact than one or two. Starting with action verbs as you have done is good. Not everything has to pertain to business. If you describe "prepare lesson plans" it stakes you out as a writer and a planner. Results are more important than activity.

Don't be afraid to afraid to infuse purpose in your resume, especially your objective statement. Yes, you worked the phones, but didn't you really provide callers a warm entry into the organization and successfully provide client service by connecting them with someone who met their needs? It's the difference between "making bricks" and "building a cathedral" and is worth being explicit about. It might sound phony to you, but resumes today are so overwritten that yours seems abrupt by comparison.  (italics mine)

As you can see, it's solid advice.  I love his image of "making bricks" versus "building a cathedral."  And, "don't be afraid to infuse purpose." I think these are valid pointers in a general way too.  We are a part of a much larger story as tiny as we may be.  Tiny but significant.  I can forget this while being knocked about by so much disappointment.

After I had enough of converting by brick-making into cathedral-building, I looked through advertisements (with a British accent, of course) for History and English positions.  It was slim pickings.  But, I made a query to an international position.  I'm kind of excited.  I've never been to the country... or that part of the world.  It could be quite fascinating, and there's a US AF base in the tiny country.  Can you guess where it is?

I borrowed some Downton Abbey DVDs from the library last week and have been watching one to several a night.  I think it's affecting my diction.

madness: day 3

It's come  to this.  Because my scale consistently kept hitting 5 pounds above where I've set my maximum and 10 pounds from my ideal weight.

A diet... well, a modified diet.  Their expectations were ludicrous: 1/2 grape fruit and a piece of toast for breakfast.  Please.  I modified to 1 grapefruit and 2 pieces of toast.  So, I pretty much keep in line with the spirit but add quantity of like foods, and I've already lost three pounds.

My cousin's wedding is a month out, and I'm not running= 2 toes + 2 knees are bothering me + I'm woefully out of shape + the weather is too hot and yucky humid.  Yes, I'm an excellent whiner.  Too bad I can't credentialed in that.  (I'm walking and kind of doing yoga instead.  Woot, woot. I still have an illogical loathing of yoga.)

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

But, don't think me too heroic (just on the off chance you're impressed). 1st, I'm modifying from the get go. 2nd, it's day 3 out of 14.  And, I've already planned some cheating (Tuesday night going out with another cousin, Wednesday night a birthday party (I'll have to drink!).) Then there's treacherous waters with three lunches-- all with guys who make fun of me if I try to do something sorority-girl like order a salad.  I will not give into peer pressure.

I didn't realize that I was this booked. See, this is why I'm not good at dieting.  Maybe I can just order a side or something... or just not stuff myself silly.

3rd, fruit and vegetables are the tastiest thing around this time of year.  It's not an act of sacrifice to eat practically vegetarian this time of year, especially since I have time to go to the Farmers' Market.  I'm snacking on cherries!  Total hardship.

4th, I can caffeinate as much as I want to-- just no sugar or cream/milk into the coffee.

It's a teensy bit sad to give up ice cream and beer, but vanity wins in the end. Our family is all about taking pictures, and I don't want to regret them.

lessons on adventure

I'm thinking about turning in an essay to a magazine that always rejects me.  But, it'd be apropos considering the month's topic.  Lessons.  I think this would be a fun take on it because lessons bring to mind: my first grade self, a timer set to thirty minutes, a metronome, a piano, a hard bench, and five versions of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" (thank you, Mr. Suzuki).  Dear God, such agony. I don't think it was supposed to take over a year to progress to the next song.  That Mr. Suzuki lacked imagination. I think the poor little star lost all motivation to shine after hearing me pound out my encouragement day after day.  No doubt my fingers weren't the only body part getting pounded, my poor teacher must have pounded her head against the wall before and after my arrival.

Another example of a negative connotation regarding "lesson": a math text book's style of division.  Lesson 3 on Monday, then Lesson 3.1 on Tuesday, then Lesson 3.2 on Wednesday, then Lesson 3.3 and 3.4 on Thursday because everybody was getting the hang of it with the quiz on Friday.  It was like a really horrific game of telephone because I was clueless on Monday and completely confused and even more clueless come Friday.  I was so bad at Math I would tell my teachers that the answers in the back of the book were wrong.  I was in a Catch 22 in college because my SAT score forced into a higher level Math than I was capable of doing (I'm a good guesser, just ask my profs).  I was so f'ing lost-- emphasis on F.  Business Calculus?!? Seriously? Who came up with that? I wasn't going to start an engineering firm.

Whereas, "adventure" is another story.  Adventures are amazing!  For instance, moving to Vancouver with nowhere to stay.  That's awesome.  Traveling in Peru and Ecuador without knowing the language-- that's cool.

But, as I'm writing this I'm realizing that a lot of the difference has to do with my framing mechanism.  I hated piano and math and were terrible at them-- I never endeavored to succeed at them. My goal was merely to survive them.  OMG, am I morphing into Oprah?  Have I discovered the power of a positive attitude?  Or, maybe it isn't that.  Maybe, it's the power of story-- even within my own memory.  I write very different stories with my memory on different periods.  I'm far better at editing out the terrible parts of a trip (the cold showers, the loneliness) than I am in remembering the positive aspects of my escapades at a piano (there is bound to be something positive that happened even if nothing comes to mind).  It's also a lesson in how competitive I am-- I despise being bad at something.  It's way easier to smart kid in the class than to be the clueless wonder.  I watched "Anne of Avonlea" last night and was struck by Anne's tenacious pluck in all situations.  It required some suspension of disbelief.  I think what I need is to apply a sense of adventure to what I do.  I'm not on a job hunt... I'm on a job QUEST.   ... or maybe crack.

I don't mind rejection from the magazine because I love to write.  It's an adventure not a lesson.

distraction eliminated

While staying with M, I drew up an action plan, well, action lists to find viable, enjoyable, lucrative employment.  There are even schedules and time allotments.  M asked me what I wanted to do, and I responded, "I no longer have any clue.  Seriously. I've become unglued."  Gratefully, she didn't join me in my abyss of ennui. Her solution was to come up with a list of three things I have been interested in and research and scout jobs in that area.  I created a tidy list with livable probabilities for short and long terms-- it's like a budget for my future.  It gave me a sense of control and self-efficacy.  This process has  been a class in how few areas of my life in which I have control, which is depressing and liberating.  I have no control over the applicant pool or if I'm chosen, but I do have control of where and how I apply.  My chest felt less heavy and my air passages less constricted with this plan.

Then, I received an email from this amazing school on the tip of Florida. Tropical Florida?  Flor-i-da. Ci.  I responded. We set up a phone interview.  We interviewed by phone on Friday.  I got excited.  I started to plan my amazonian life completely discarding my amazing, highly structured plan.  I received the email that I was expecting to be a list of dates I could fly down.  It was not a list of dates but a note to let me know they'd decided to pursue another candidate who was local.  The email stung, but I shot off a cheery reply, thanking him for the notice.  (Not everyone is that considerate.  A lot of people just keep you hanging.)  After marinating in the deferment of the mini-dream, I realized I'd deviated from the plan.

It's really hard for me to stay on task.  I think that is so much of the appeal of school for me: the tidy scheduling of goals (homework, quizzes, tests, papers and exams) that lead to bigger goals (degree).  For instance, it's hard for me to look for a job when I'm working another one.  I don't do well with a divided mind.  Yet, I'm easily distracted.  I can go to have coffee for a friend to chat about something specific and get completely off topic.  My friends usually end up getting me on track.  I need to work on this bad habit-- figure out how to be nonlinear in a suitable fashion and make sure it isn't some form of disengagement.

Also, it hit me: I've been putting my life on hold because I don't have the job I want.  Not just this period of unemployment, but even while I was teaching.  I knew from the point I accepted the job that I didn't want to teach there nor live there.  So, I purposely put down few roots.  I'm realizing that this is no way to live.  It's dawning on me that I'm never going to reach the day when everything's perfect and ready for me to land the ideal job, buy the ideal house, find the ideal spouse, start the ideal family.  There's always going to be something amiss if not everything amiss.  We live in a fractured, hurting world with fractured, hurting people.

Maybe that's why I've been having such a hard time in my prayer life-- my refusal to accept things the way they are, which is a tacit refusal to see God the way he is.  John Calvin firmly believed that self-knowledge and God-knowledge were deeply interwoven.  We get to see the real God by seeing our real selves.

This provocative article Catholic, Gay, and Feeling Fine may have been the catalyst for my thinking.  This paragraph near the end in particular:
So, yes, it’s hard to be gay and Catholic — it’s hard to be anything and Catholic — because I don’t always get to do what I want. Show me a religion where you always get to do what you want and I’ll show you a pretty shabby, lazy religion. Something not worth living or dying for, or even getting up in the morning for. That might be the kind of world John Lennon wanted, but John Lennon was kind of an idiot.


The "it’s hard to be anything and Catholic — because I don’t always get to do what I want" resonated with me.  He articulates the truth winsomely: we get God, and, therefore, it's a beautiful life.  So, I didn't land the Florida job, and that's okay.  I've got a plan.

"Argue naked. Everybody Wins."

This was not the car, but I wish it were.

That bumper sticker officially announced that college kids are back in town... And, so am I.  It's good to be back even if my tomatoes are underperforming.

I'm journaling through all my cataclysmic breakthroughs from my trip.  Well, they were more along the lines of realizations.  But, delving into the obvious is about as profound as I go.  I get excited about commas and puns... and bawdy bumper stickers.

I had some amazing conversations with friends (and strangers) that have given me much to mull over.

For instance, I spoke with this guy for nearly three hours from Houston to home.  We'd been on same the ridiculous flight from Vancouver to Houston (but we made the connection), and gone to the same university.  He's two years younger.  It was cool.  I was so tired but couldn't stop gabbing.  We talked about Canadians, Hong Kong, Taiwan, socialized medicine, third party pay, the role of liberal arts in a modern economy, the psychological and emotional aspects of home ownership, etc.  He's married with a kid, so it wasn't like that.

Staying with M, I read in several of her books.  She's got awesome books.  I dipped into her Mother Teresa book several times (and borrowed one from the library today).  I'd come across the quotation of doing small things with great love, but I read further and came upon the context of the quote which made it even more powerful.  Also, I really want to get a copy of her "Praying with Moses" devotional by Eugene Peterson.  It seemed pretty cool.

Another M mind invasion, I made my first lasagna tonight!  And invited a friend over!!  The Chief and S enjoyed it.  I nit picked it, but I think I'd been quite content if I weren't the one who'd come up with it.

This link is thought-provoking and in line with Mother Teresa:
50 ways to become the answer the answer to your prayers

The soul is a slippery thing.

 Explosive Eighteen by Janet Evanovich. I bought this in the Houston Airport because I'd reached my knitting saturation point.  I only packed my Bible in the hopes to convert my reading energy into knitting energy.  No such luck.  I can read for far longer periods than I can knit... even if it's really cool multi-colored yarn.

I traded in an acrylic yarn for a silly yarn with this Stefanie Plum novel. It's a beach read if there ever was one.  It's stereo-typed and cliche in a cutesy way.  The characters are believable caricatures.  The fat girl loves to eat fried food, etc.  All the threads are accounted for in the plot in a predictable (and satisfying) manner.  The thing is: I recommend it.  It's a decent sit-com-esque entertainment that'll make you chuckle.

 Running in the Family by Michael Ondaatje. This jewel was found in the Valley Village in Burquitlam.  I've really enjoyed fiction by Ondaatje, author of The English Patient; so, I gave this one a try.  His writing is lyrical.  He paints with words.  This is a story of his return to Sri Lanka to discover more about his past and his parents.  Humor, warmth, pride and honesty abound.  He writes about brilliant, beautiful and broken people with aplomb.  He weaves his father's alcoholism into a tale sans sentimentalism.  He treats suffering (even within his family) as a reality with which one must deal.  There are some hard knocks along the way, but  a strong sense of story, meaning and humility undergird the story.  He talks about visiting the graves of his ancestors and feeling his smallness.  This was a good read by a talented author.

Dogs at the Perimeter by Madeleine Thien. I bought this on my friend's recommendation.  This is the kind of book that justifies reading.  It's haunting.  It's important.  It's about survivors of the Khmer Rouge regime in Cambodia-- it's about war, suffering, love, survival, memory.  It's so near perfection that it makes me want to write a book and promise never to write again in the same breath.  Plot, philosophy, and art intertwined into story. I'll give you two paragraphs for evidence:

"We arrive at my stop and I exit through the back doors. Above me, in the clearing sky, pigeons roost on the high wires, clouds descend, and I turn and walk east along the frozen skirts of Mount Royal.  The mountain, dipped in snow, has an eerie beauty, tree after tree rising up the hill, slender as matchsticks.  The temperature is dropping fast and people, blank-faced beneath their hats and scarves, shoulder roughly by. This place wears its misery so profoundly.  Mean-eyed women, sheathed in stiletto boots, kick the ice aside while small men in massive coats lumber down the sidewalk. The elderly fall into snowbanks. All human patience curdles in the winter. On University Street, I turn left, continuing until I reach the heavy doors of the Brain Research Centre."

....

".... My mother once told me that when a child is born, threads are tied around the infant's wrists to bind her soul to her body. The soul is a slippery thing.  A door slammed too loudly can send it running. A beautiful, shining object can catch its attention and lure it away.  But in darkness, unpursued, the soul, the pralung, can climb back in through an open window, it can be returned to you.  We did not come in solitude, my mother told me.  Inside us, from the beginning, we were entrusted with many lives. From the first morning to the last, we try to carry them until the end."

Ah.  Her language flows so deftly that it seems effortless.  The commas that gently pace. The exquisite verbs that hold the abstract and concrete in balance.  Landscape laden with meaning.  This book is an act of worship.


As I write, I realize that my favorite books this round are by Asian Canadians.  I don't know if that has any significance.

ferry

I'm on the ferry.  I pulled out my computer because I was trying to read in this quiet alcove, but three women sat right in front of me and have been chatting nonstop.  C'est la vie.  I'm hearing some hilarious tales about Montreal.

The sun has come out for a bit, which is a nice treat.  We caught a ferry at Horseshoe Bay to the Sunshine Coast with some friends and ate at this great little Thai restaurant.  Then, one of them looked at some houses.  We're back on the ferry.  There's been a lot of travel and a lot of sitting.

It's interesting to see the beautiful landscape after seeing lots of oils and water colours of it yesterday at South Granville's galleries.  Breathtaking.

I catch my plane back home tomorrow with mixed emotion.

Traditional, adventurous or wild?

My favorite question at the Farmers' Market: "Do you want traditional, adventurous or wild?" by the chocolatier.

I chose "wild" and ended up with a slice of dark chocolate, blue cheese and candied pear that I was ordered to allow to melt in my mouth. "Don't chew!"  He was insistent it would melt at different rates and it did.

Church was a weird experience, but I had no coffee beforehand.

Passport Scare!

As I was laying down for a nap after a grueling day of reading and hanging out, I thought, "Where's my passport?"

I couldn't remember what I did with it after customs.  So, I checked the usual pockets in my luggage. No.

I systematically unpacked my suitcase and my back pack.  I repacked them.  No.

I'm to the point I'm almost crying.  Then I ease the emotional trauma of a lost passport with 1) I'm in Canada, home of compassionate softies (woohoo!) and 2) I'm never taking a red eye again-- except to get home.

I figure before calling the consulate to get a new one, I should call the other friend I've stayed with.

I call Betty.

"Hello!" Betty answers.
"Hey," I say. "How about this weather?"
"WHO is this?" Betty says.
"Joy," I say.
"Oh," she sighs.  "WHERE are you? Seattle?"
"No, Mandy's," I say.
"Did you try to go to Seattle?" she asks.
"Not this trip," I respond.  I can feel the tenseness ease out of my body with this line of questioning.
"Did I leave my passport at your house?"
"YES.  You left it on the kitchen table under your plane ticket.  I found it after you left!" Betty explained.

Whew.