Parenting Trends and the Church

Read New Republic's article How Older Parenthood Will Upend American Society and Seeking Alpha's Chinese and American Demographics Contrasted and weep.  Or, if you are in my shoes: feel guilt and shame from the Parenthood one and a depressing vindication with the other.

Macro view: I know such news isn't new.  The Romans dealt with this issue as did almost every culture where women have choice regarding their futures-- the mother's death has been a common side effect of birth throughout history.  We've largely distanced ourselves from that reality, but we haven't the costs of parenting-- women still bear the brunt of that.

Micro view: I also come from a family who has only one aunt who started having children in her 20's.  My mom had her first child at age 31 and her last one at 41.  My grandmother had her last child at age 41.  Neither my brother or uncle has any birth defects. It never occurred to me that I would have children in my 20's, but it also never occurred to me that I'd be single at age 33.  It's as one older lady told me at church, "But, you're not that ugly." And, statistically speaking, the odds of either happening are minimal to nonexistent.  I am a brave new world with little guidance.  The evangelical church is geared towards men and families.  Maybe that's the problem with the modern American church?  We're more interested in demographics than God, worship and obedience.  Churches have foci on "seekers" or "family-friendly" or whatever.  Maybe we should be a little more focused on God-- and the seekers and families will come?

It seems to me that the demographic shifts are being studied in terms of education and income.  But, I wonder what deeper issues related to identity and spiritual belief are at stake?  Where is the church in this seismic shift?  I'd like to see a study linking church attendance and debt to income levels into the marriage and children mix.  Where does the shift in importance of entertainment, stuff and education fit into the mix?  I think the shift from a saving culture to a credit culture is a shift in conceptualization of the future and personal responsibility: an anthropological and theological shift.  We're talking about trends in sexuality, households, and lifestyle-- this is profound.

I'm finding the only worthwhile way to combat the worry (macro and micro) has been digging into a study of Exodus.  How's that for an apparent non sequitur? But, then again, maybe not.  Yahweh responds to all of Moses's legitimate worries in Chapter 3: "I am."  This answer denotes God's authority and presence.  The verb is of "active being."  God is also equating being God of the fathers (Abraham, Jacob and Isaac) with being the God who is present and active (and in charge of) the Israelites in Egypt.  God is as present now as He was then.  As problematic as this seems, perhaps slavery and attempted genocide weighed just as heavily on the Israelites... or more so.  Maybe like Moses, I should change my question from "who am I" to asking God "who are you?"

Christmas 2012 musings

Yowsers: AL's Xmas tree! 

It was a nice holiday.  I was sick for the first half but recovered in time to partake in the edibles!  It was a good reminder of how good life is: family, friends, food, time to relax and laugh.  I really enjoyed being with my family.  We did practically nothing.  We ate French Onion Soup, my brother and I watched Looney Tunes.  My mom said, "This is a great reminder of the role of family... even with their foibles... they are your family."  My aunt went all out with her party, and it was lovely.  The devil is in the details.

My Silly Brother

We did manage to go to the Christmas Eve service-- it was the contemporary music service, but the sermon was fantastic.  The pastor compared the article in Us Weekly about the preparations for Prince William and Kate's baby and Jesus's birth.  I was really struck by his comment about the prophesies about Bethlehem, and how they did nothing to spruce it up for the Messiah.  The parallels in my life run rampant.

The other thing that really struck me this time is the star.  It's beautiful that a) nature was drawn to Jesus and b) Jesus met the Magi in their language/vocation/passion.

Yes, please

The other difference this year was having to work Christmas Eve.  It wasn't bad, but it was a good reminder of how tough some people's lives are.  All I could think about were the poor mamas who had to work a shift at Wal-Mart or a grocery store and then come home to be Santa.  I also realized what a service working is.  We drove by a pharmacy open on Christmas-- can you imagine needing medicine and not being able to get it?

Also, Christmas cards and texts from friends were really sweet.  I felt loved.

So lovely!

I hope you had a happy, meaningful Christmas!

12/21/12... and I feel fine

It's the end of the world as we know it.  Yeah, REM.  Today was busy; I spoke with Essence and Inspiration and ate free pizza-- really what more could I ask for?  I thought the heron had abandoned our creek for somewhere warmer.  Instead, the bloke stood morose and somber-- he was ready for the end of the world... and a photo shoot.

Isn't he lovely?  I love his coloring, and how his feathers are blowing in the wind. He looks cold.

inner yogi conquers sigh

My inner yogi is a contemplative.  She's not prone to competition, contortion, or consumerism.  Not that I've ever heard her talk, but these are facts I've gleaned over the years.

Her inhibition set in on her maiden yoga class in the Student Recreation Center at the college we were attending.  The instructor and I got off on the wrong foot because I asked, "What are your sit bones?" The instructor sighed her disdain, and my friend mouthed to me, "YOUR BUTT."  That was just the beginning.

The instructor circulated like a dedicated mall security guard.  It was intense, and I heard her sigh every time she came by me.  She attempted to give me hints, but stopped trying.  Finally, these words escaped her lips, "You're not even trying."  I was sweating from my attempt at all the insanity, but my bones would crack and my muscles snap before I could pull off some of these feats.  I've never been flexible on any plane of existence.  I've been able to touch my toes with straight legs approximately twice in my life.  From then one, she merely sighed while passing me and my aching body.

But there's no such thing as a mere sigh when it comes to her. Yoga instructors are masters of le sigh: sighing as art form and weapon.  It's all the breathing exercises. There may be an entire class devoted to sighing with a part one and two. It's two-fold power is: 1) it wilts your soul with disdain and disgust and 2) creates smug cloud that affects your oxygen levels much like hiking just the peaks in the Himalayas (if that were possible).  I can't breathe; I'm getting light-headed. Furthermore, le sigh connotes spiritual enlightenment (the instructor's not yours), which is the nail in the coffin of doom.

Perhaps, your defeat is supposed to lead to limpness, which translates into flexibility.  Not so in my case.  I got frustrated-- one might even say "angry", and my inner yogi curled up in the fetal position to die.  Turns out, inner yogi is no feminist.  Inner yogis are not to be confused with pet spider monkeys who aim to please and adore learning tricks.

My inner yogi remained curled up in the fetal position, and I continued making jokes about how much I hate yoga until... OLD LADY YOGA at my local Y.  We're talking roughly a decade. So,  I went to the class because of my weird work schedule, and I was so stiff from sitting so much that I was willing to try anything... even yoga with a defeated inner yogi.

Maybe it was the sweat pants and white tube socks in lieu of lulelemon uniforms.  Maybe the instructor had abandoned the art of the sigh due to all the hearing aids.  Maybe it was my desperation.  But, my inner yogi uncurled herself and lay on the floor and even joined me for sitting crisscross applesauce (even though she did ask, "She means indian style, right?")  She really didn't mind any of the low-key exercises.  Turns out, she's a minimalist who isn't prone to exhibitionism in any form and allergic to sighs.

contact, contact, contact, contact, contact

Did you ever say a word over and over again until you couldn't say it anymore and it seemed completely weird?  Just a normal word--nothing fancy; say, contact or, even, weird.

Or, have you ever spelled a word correctly, and it doesn't look right?  So, you spell it about three or four different ways to see if any of those look correct.   Say, occasion then ocassion then occassion. And, you end up going with your original spelling even though it still doesn't look quite right. Later, you look the word up in a dictionary, and you were right the entire time.

My sister and I would repeat words into oblivion, then dissolve into giggles.  We'd usually be sitting in one of our back bedrooms on pale green carpet next to our beds somewhere in the little kid activity schedule of eating, sleeping, playing, and growing up to be overly analytical.

Sometimes I catch myself doing that same exercise with my life.  Every once and a while, I'll wake up, start up my routine, and it doesn't seem right.  So, I tweak the schedule.  I'll have a cookie for breakfast instead of oatmeal.  Journal more to figure out what's going on. Or... go into full-on existential crisis mode.  Why am I here?  Does my life serve any real purpose?  Do I do anything worthy of my carbon footprint?  (I actually said that to someone yesterday. Oops.)  And, it turns into this dark, soupy mind loop but minus the giggling.

But, full-on existential crisis mode takes a lot of emotional and psychological energy, which leads to an early bedtime or, if I'm lucky, a nap.  Then, the universal elixir, sleep, set things right.  Oatmeal and routine are okay once again.

commonplacing for this week

"It is important to note that 'the valley of the shadow of death' is as much God's right path for us as the 'green pastures' which lie beside 'quiet waters.'"
James M. Boice

“Such is the depth of the Christian Scriptures that even if I were attempting to study them and nothing else from early boyhood to decrepit old age, with the utmost leisure, the most unwearied zeal, and talents greater than I have, I would still daily be making progress in discovering their treasures.”
St. Augustine

"CHALLENGE:
NAME THE MOST COUNTER-CULTURAL TEXT IN THE BIBLE

My vote:
"What do you have that you did not receive?" (meaning: nothing) (1 Corinthians 4:7)"
Miroslav Volf

"... it only takes about 90 hours to read through the Bible. This means that if we replace our average daily television watching, which Nielsen reports is 4 hours and 39 minutes, with Bible reading, we could read the entire Bible in less than 3 weeks."
Bethany Jenkins

The Bible is on the brain, especially since I said that Thomas walked on water in a class... that I was teaching. I faked a few people out with that one.  I should have said "one of the twelve" or the "dude".

Then, there's always poetry: Looking, Walking, Being

more tuition

remarkably similar to my car-- even the right color!

6:57 am last Friday my car would not start.  Absolutely nothing.  Since It was my 10th day on the job, I didn't have a lot of wiggle room about being late let alone not showing.  My mind raced.  This had never happened to me, which is kind of nice considering I have a 1993 Corolla wagon with over 295,000 miles.

On Wednesday, my plumber neighbor warned me that my break lights were turning on and off at will, and that would eventually drain my battery.  I didn't really worry about it because the lights didn't seem to stay on very long.  I usually give myself a couple weeks of leeway with car problems.

Big mistake.

My mom loaned me her car to get me out of the pickle... AND took my car to the mechanic.  Friday night and $80 later, I had my car back.

Sunday morning came as did weird noises and a hesitant start.  Then, I stopped at Food Lion to pick up a bag of Cheetos before church because I was running early.  When I came out, my car wouldn't start.  The lady loading her minivan with groceries called her husband to figure out how to help me.  Then, this guy in a teal Chevy pickup truck came around and the guy jumped my car's battery.  I decided to risk going to church.  My car cranked after some sputtering.  Mom told me to take her car to work Monday.  I found out Monday night the car didn't start for her.  She had to take my car to the mechanic again.  This time he replaced the battery.  He didn't charge her and gave her his business card, haven written his cell number on the back in case we had more trouble.

The car has been on its best behavior ever since.  I went by the mechanic's and shelled out $90 today because the battery worked.  He had gotten the part from Toyota and put it on for me.

It made me realize how much I take for granted.  And, I realized how the past couple of years have changed me.  I'm glad that my car wouldn't start instead of breaking down while driving.  I'm really glad my mom was so close to bail me out with her car.  And, the $170 was expensive with the thin margins I'm running, but it's still a far better deal than a car payment.

And, my car is a puny need in the big picture.  I have friends who are struggling through much more trying trials.  Faith and hope are a far more rugged workout than I imagined.  You come out different.

Here's a FB status from a friend that celebrates the beauty of normal:

You know, I'd never thought about it before all this happened, but even a simple task like taking a shower requires a lot of balance and strength. I couldn't even step INTO the shower for several months. Now I've gotten the showering routine back down to about 20 minutes. Small things, but it's a lot of progress from where I was!

One of her friend's responded: I feel you! I got excited to be able to cut my toenails today!

Praise God for cars that start, the ability to shower and cut toe nails, baking sugar cookies, basking in sunshine!

dream update

I want to go on a really long hike in the mountains when the leaves turn next month. And pick some apples.

I want to get certified in scuba diving.

I want a camera so I can take pictures of the awesomeness I come across, whether a tree or a sign or a person.  Seriously, if you could see the oak tree outside the window on the 4th floor, you'd be jealous of my job.

I want to wear high heels with a dress to work and feel sophisticated.

I want to run 8 miles tomorrow and 12 on Saturday.  Booyah.

I want to memorize more bible verses to keep me company when bad thoughts lurk.

I want to hang out with a friend and laugh until we cry.

I want to become really good with money.  Have a very healthy relationship with it.

all's well

A good report all around.

Work is going well. I feel like I'm catching on, building some cognitive and relational momentum. Heck, I'm even enjoying dressing up.  I'm trying to decide what purchases to make because this is a far fancier job than teaching.  I've come to a reasonable compromise with the traffic: I leave at 7am and arrive to work at 7:30 and do my devotion in my car.  And, I beat the traffic home by stopping at the Y on the way home and doing my 5 or 7 miles and maybe a class.  So, it's a little longer, but flexibility makes it far more enjoyable.

I didn't run after work but went to church instead.  It was on "Hallowed by thy name."  It hit a nerve... in a good way.  It was a reminder of my constant need to get reoriented to Reality.  God's bigger and stronger than any of the problems whether a political election or unemployment.

The icing on the cake: really phenomenal conversations with dear friends.  One on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.  I felt loved, grounded and encouraged by the words and the relationships.

belly flops

I know about belly flops.  I've knocked the air out of me by particularly spectacular belly flops, actual and metaphorical. They're one of my specialties.  But, there's a new belly flop in town, and, it's as awesome as mine!

Time to celebrate the irregular, the abnormal, the unexpected!  Here's to crazy jelly beans! And dollar stores that sell them!  To all of those who regularly participate in the glorious flop. Go, embrace the rejects because they're unique and sweet!

Not alone

"We read to know we are not alone," wrote CS Lewis.  This is one of my favorite quotations.  I had a professor who said some of his best friends were books.  A book can offer amazing companionship.  The Catcher in the Rye and Holden Caulfield were my good friends in tenth grade.  I loved the ducks in Central Park question, the baseball glove, discussion of pimples, and the"phonies".  Holden got it.

Tenth grade was also the year I gave up reading horoscopes.  I was reading some teenage-ish magazine's horoscope, and MY horoscope stated that I would meet a cute boy near my locker and that we'd fall in love.  I got really peeved because a) I didn't have a locker and b) there were no boys at my school.  So, I was not going to fall madly in love that month.  Not only that, but it was wrong from its conception: it was using the law of averages (lockers and boys are pretty safe bets for most high schools), and my situation didn't fit.  For some reason, this resonated deeply in my teenage philosophical sensibilities.

So, I've transferred my disdain of horoscopes to daily devotionals.  Seriously, how on target can they be?  And, I can't do daily devotionals for women.  I find them insulting (clearly, I have some deep-seated issues.)

But, the human condition is universal.  JD Salinger nailed teenage angst and ennui.  The horoscopist nailed my desire to fall in love with a cute boy... just didn't realize how high the odds were stacked against me.  And, I think the universality is especially true on a spiritual level.  St. Augustine's description of "the God-shaped hole" in our hearts is the crux of so much pain.

Anyway, that was a really long introduction to the fact that I've been reading two daily devotionals recently.  One is "Streams in the Desert Volume 1" that I bought for $2.00 and smells like it's older than I am but in a bookish way.  And the other one is cheesy, but I'm enjoying it: Jesus Calling by Sarah Young.  It's written in Jesus's voice-- it's as if he's talking to you.  It's super cheesy and a great reminder of his realness.  And, it's really short.

Streams in the Desert was first copyrighted in 1925, so it can be a little stilted at times.  (But, if you read this blog, you'll do just fine with it.)  But, July 31st entry was perfect for my July 31, 2012:

"He guided them by the skillfulness of his hands." (Psa. 78:72)

When you are doubtful as to your course, submit your judgment absolutely to the Spirit of God, and ask Him to shut against you every door but the right one... Meanwhile keep on as you are and consider the absence of indication to be the indication of God's will that you are on His track... As you go down the long corridor, you will find that He has preceded you, and locked many doors which you would fain have entered; but beyond these there is one which He has left unlocked. Open it and enter, and you will find yourself face to face with a bend of the river of opportunity, broader and deeper than anything you had dared to imagine in your sunniest dreams.  Launch forth upon it; it conducts to the open sea.

God guides us, often by circumstances.  At one moment the way may seem utterly blocked; and then shortly afterward some trivial incident occurs, which might not seem much to others, but which to the keen eye of faith speaks volumes. Sometimes these are repeated in various ways, in answer to prayer. They are not haphazard results of chance, but the opening up of circumstances in the direction we would walk. And they begin to multiply as we advance toward our goal, just as the lights do as we near a populous town, when darting through the land by night express. -F.B. Meyer 

I really needed these words and the pictures they paint yesterday (and today) and don't think it was haphazard results of chance that I came across them.  Right now, it does feel like I'm walking down a long corridor with a lot of locked doors.  But, it helps to think of God as a parent locking doors/ putting up safety walls to prevent my doing something really stupid.

And, although it feels futile to keep applying to jobs, and writing letters trying to figure out licensure.  I'm always finding the balance between faith and action.  It's as my grandpa used to say, "The harder I work, the luckier I get."  I need to keep going down the corridor trying doors, knowing that I'm not alone.

A Hike

the view

Thanks to Amanda's comment, I felt inspired to have fun.  I was at a loss to do something on my budget, and then it came to me. I went on one of my favorite hikes: Crowder's Mountain.  It's about six miles, nearby, and involves a mountain.  It usually takes about 2 hours to do it, but today was hot... even in the shade.  And, it was crowded because it was the weekend. So, those are my excuses to why it took over three hours.  I enjoyed myself-- taking breaks at scenic stops that I usually rush past, drinking water.  I was reminded why we sweat: the breeze felt so nice!

Rock Top Trail

Then, I came home and had a big, fat nap after a big, fat lunch!  I read some about ancient Rome.  I chatted with one of my old roommates and found out that it's National Dance Day.  (Happy National Dance Day to you!)  I ate watermelon for dinner!  I got an email from a college friend!  I ate three desserts!  Boom.

It's a climb!

Now, I've officially gotten sucked into the Olympics.  Gymnastics, swimming, beach volleyball.  I almost cried with the story about John Orozco, the gymnast from the Bronx.  I'm even enjoying Ryan Lochte's cockiness; it's cute since it's earned.

But, what's so compelling is the beauty and happiness of a win... no matter what nation.  I'm no fan of China-- I was not impressed with them bullying Taiwan, and the Olympic Committee cowling to the Chinese.  But, I caught myself cheering for some Chinese athletes.  It's like a friend said, "You can't be mean to a child because of something his parents did."  The same goes with the athletes.

practice makes perfect

I decided to do my homework and find some interview questions.  I found some really good questions out there on the internets.  Ones that regard my philosophy of education, how I evaluate mastery, what the necessary elements are in designing a lesson.

It made me remember all the things I love about teaching and "middle level" students.  Middle school is more hands-on teaching, which is so much more fun and interesting than discussing facts.  Maybe we'll build a plan of a city, or design an outfit that a person would wear in the middle ages.  We'll get to connect current events with the motifs that we're studying.  After all, the human condition is universal.  Of course I lecture, but I get to use Socratic method and secondary methods (creating a group project that the students can extract the information and ideas from together for themselves).  There's such a high from hearing your students having an interesting conversation about the material, esp. relating it to themselves.

I caught myself looking at apartments and condos and getting nervous.  So, I put my nervous energy into thinking about the job.  It's also helping me develop questions I have about the position and a litmus for deciding if it's a good fit.  Mostly, the exercise got me excited and positive.  I really enjoy talking and thinking about how pedagogy of history needs to adapt to the digital environment.

Flo Rida Part 2

"Me" on my little metaphorical sailboat

Today started late.  I woke up at 9:30.  I went to the farmer's market, visited the nursing home bringing my friends flowers, and received a call from the head of middle school at the Florida school.  (BOOM!  I'm flying down there next Tuesday for an interview.)  I then went to my appointment for my brow wax.  I even stopped by my favorite thrift store, and it was having a sale.  I got a navy cotton J.Crew suit that fits well for $12; it doesn't require any alterations (but I'll have to wear flats).  I bought a suit because I only own a tropical weight wool suit.  I don't care what weight it is; if it's wool, it's not going to work in southern Florida in July.  I went by the 24/7 prayer room and... prayed. Then,  I got my hair chopped.  The stylist told me, "You have a fantastic jawline for short hair."  I said, "Thank you."  Because she said I had a fantastic jaw.  Too bad jaws are underrated.  Now all I need to do is find a "jaw guy".

I came home and booked the flight.  I'm putting it on my card, and the school is going to reimburse me. I'm spending one night.

It's good to feel the breeze of hope.  I'm going to hoist my sail and see where it leads.  I'm very thankful to Jesus for this much needed break.  When I told my mom, I think she was happier for me than even I was.  I love the Mom.

Maybe I'm going to start sleeping in on principal.

weird that it isn't wierd

"I" before "e" except after "c".

"Weird": where form and function meet.

Can you tell that I just noticed that about the word?  I probably was all over the factoid when I was in third grade, then, gratefully, I moved on to other things.  But, all things, including style and ideas, are cyclical.

Yesterday was one weird day.

The weather was a moist, monochrome grey that crescendoed into this glorious, horrific thunderstorm that lasted an hour.  The thunder could have inspired Beethoven when deaf.  I just lay on the sofa and pulled down the blinds and enjoyed.

Then I drove to the big city, and it hadn't even rained.  That's the kind of detail that tests your sanity.  I was talking about the weather, because I'm polite and weird like that. Nobody knew about the thunderstorm; I might as well been talking about "the voices".

Before the thunderstorm, I visited some ladies at a nursing home.  It was not what I was expecting.  I was hoping that I'd be a ray of sunshine for these little ladies.  I didn't rely on my looks and charm alone: I brought them candy.  It ended up that I crashed two parties; they already had visitors.  I stayed over an hour with the first lady and her visitor.  They'd been missionaries in Haiti together.  They were fascinating women... and beautiful in the true, real sense.

My interaction with these women created or uncovered some form of discomfort.  It wasn't that I felt judged; they were gentle, kind, and keen women.  Maybe, it was because they were so solid, completely lacking in pretense and guile.  It made me think of the grass in Lewis' The Great Divorce.  This grass cut the visitors' feet who were ghost-like.  It's the weight of holiness.  Being in their presence reminded me of being around my favorite prof in Vancouver.  There's a qualitative difference in spending time with these people.  They're tuned into eternity.  I felt completely seen and heard in their presence.  The "completely" part is the terrifying part.  I'm sure they could sense my anxiety and shame, which is my lack of trust in Jesus.

After the thunderstorm, I had more conversations about identity.  I called one of my friends and midway through the conversation, she said, "I've been crying."  Come to find out, she'd gotten a spray-on tan that was much darker than she'd expected, which caused this identity crisis.  She felt this was a manifestation of trying to be somebody other than God created her to be.  And, I had another conversation about addiction in Christians.

It was a weird, heavy, wonderful day that I'll be carrying around for a while.  I feel like yesterday, Friday the 13th, was a lesson that I'm not quite ready for.  But, maybe I'll understand it somewhere down the road.  It was the kind of day that could turn you into a Calvinist.  It was the kind of day that reminds me of the meaning and shape of life. It was the kind of day that God was really there.

Weird: maybe my life is where form and function meet in my own journey.  Maybe similar to the English language, the exceptions prove the rule.  Expectations, like phonics, have a 70% success rate; the other 30% is where the magic, mystery and miracles exist.

when is "too late"?

In the past three days, I've gotten two responses to emails in mid-June.  I'd forgotten that I'd sent the emails.  I had to read the email I sent one friend to figure out why he was emailing me.  That said, all was not in vain. I enjoyed reading my email; it was quite witty.  I have no idea what took him so long to respond... maybe he was intimidated.  I just responded my question had been rendered moot by time.

This highlights my sense of time-- it's off kilter.  Partly due to this, I am feeling a deep ambivalence towards making plans... and life in general.  I realize at this juncture that I have waaaaaaaaaay too much time on my hands to analyze and worry, and most people don't have the luxury.  I've always been prone to over analysis and now can fully indulge it.

Time is a luxury.  The problem is that I'm to anxious, stressed and worried to use it well.  And it affects my sleep patterns: it's a vicious pattern. I'm sure everybody had experienced it. There are days I can't read because I can't concentrate.  My sense of reality has morphed into fun-house mirrors.  Major problems get dwarfed by little problems, and it's hard to find a way out of the mental maze.  Prayer and people seem to normalize the patterns and eliminate some of the anxiety.

I picked up Streams in the Desert at the ReStore yesterday.  Yesterday's devotional was on waiting patiently.  I read it in the store, and it made me mad.  So many people have implied that I'm not trying hard enough or have done something wrong to be unemployed, that I should have felt relief.  What does waiting look like?  What's my responsibility in it?  All the tension between faith and action-- I must be looking at something incorrectly.  All this said, I bought the book for $2.

no jobbie in abu dhabi

Just found out the school's filled the position.  The shock is that I'm more bummed than I thought I would be.  Bummer.

break-up sadness

I just called off a friendship, and, consequently,  I feel sad.  It needed to be done.  She wanted to meet for coffee, but I'd rather do hot yoga, pass out, and pay for the Emergency Room trip in change to an old, fat, over-bearing accountant scowling at me the entire time.  Well, that may be overstating my lack of desire by a small margin.  We don't really have anything in common.  I don't really care about potty training and arguments over strawberries, and she doesn't care about my fantastic impersonations of customers and immature but overwhelming existential angst.

I had a conversation at reunion with a good friend who happens to be a psychologist.  We were discussing my lackluster year, and she said, "I thought you had a lot church friends or something."

I responded, "I did too."

"Where were they?" she countered.

"Hell if I know," I answered.

The friend I broke up with was one of the above named AWOL people.  I feel kind of bad talking like that with my Jewish friend.  But, I didn't know where my friends were nor where God was in the maelstrom.  And, furthermore, I know very few Christians who haven't been deeply wounded by the church and her members.  Words are so much easier than actions.  Believe me, I know.  I'm definitely not the go-to evangelist.  Faith doesn't make life easier merely richer and more meaningful.

I've been thinking about friends and friendship often recently.  The many people who've disappointed me have really high-lighted the amazing friends that I do have. The shoddy, generic friendships offer foil for the real deal. Maybe I'll cobble together a coherent couple of paragraphs on the subject.

Katniss expansion

Katniss Everdeen has caused quite a stir. Here's a review of other amazing chicks in books. Greatest Girl Characters in YA Lit

Here's a blog post by my favorite fashion blogger: Starts with a K, where her outfit pays homage to Katniss, and she suggests books that are similar to the Hunger Games series.

After having watched the Hunger Games movie and being disappointed, the friend with me pointed out, "It could have been much worse." He was right, but I suggest watching Winter's Bone. I feel that the stories have extremely similar themes, plots, and characters. The main difference is setting: the Ozark mountains in the modern times.

My favorite part of the Hunger Games movie has been the soundtrack. Here's the playlist:

1. "Abraham's Daughter" by Arcade Fire
2. "Tomorrow Will Be Kinder" by The Secret Sisters
3. "Nothing to Remember" by Neko Case
4. "Safe & Sound" by Taylor Swift featuring The Civil Wars
5. "The Ruler & The Killer" by Kid Cudi
6. "Dark Days" by Punch Brothers
7. "One Engine" by The Decemberists
8. "Daughter's Lament" by Carolina Chocolate Drops
9. "Kingdom Come" by The Civil Wars
10. "Take the Heartland" by Glen Hansard
11. "Come Away to the Water" by Maroon 5 featuring Rozzi Crane
12. "Run Daddy Run" by Miranda Lambert ft Pistol Annies
13. "Rules" by Jayme Dee
14. "Eyes Open" by Taylor Swift
15. "Lover is Childlike" by The Low Anthem
16. "Just a Game" by Birdy

My favorite tracks are 3,10, 13, and 16, but I like most of them.

Unexpected Pleasures and Small Stuff

Unexpected pleasures are a beautiful thing. For instance, The Buick Verano's Unexpected Pleasures commercial that lives up to the concept. It makes me smile each time I watch it, which is fitting. I think my job counts as this too: the people are fun, and I get payed to workout! It's like a cool, old lady from my church who I waited on today said, "This would be a fun place to work! I'd work here." I agreed with her. It's one of those jobs such as barista or book store clerk that's kind of day dreamy.

And so is small stuff. This British lady's post was an excellent reminder of Ann Voskamp's book, One Thousand Gifts. It's not a life changing book, but it's good.

My small stuff this week is the Hunger Games soundtrack-- I'm totally digging on it. And, I've worked ten days straight (8 days of work and 2 days of 6+ hours of interviewing), and I get a day off. When it rains, it pours. It's nice to work and have the hope that interviews bring, but I'm glad to have a day that's low key. I heard from some friends and professors because of applying to jobs that care about my intelligence... it's on the refreshing side. My last teaching job didn't check with my professors.