I watched you brush beauty on your face as the vanity light struck gold in your eyes.
I curled my hair and stained my cheeks pink while you tentriled shades of red hair.
With you, time passed swiftly, unforgivingly. I wasn't ready.
Concocted liquids filled my veins as we laughed and swept our cheeks against the ones we love. I was enveloped with perfumed laced skin and glittery eyelids.
Red potion danced into glasses and you, well you sat next to me and crossed your legs while shadowed figures blinded me with flashes of light simply capturing time with you in a moment.
With you, time passed swiftly, unforgivingly. I wasn't ready.
Flash after flash. You smile a smile I haven't seen in awhile.
You laugh a laugh I haven't heard in awhile.
Next thing I know it's you, me and the moon- and four little stars that shined above us. Just four. I counted them.
Two wishes for you. Two wishes for me all to what seemed like wasted wishes for you... and for me.
Words of no wisdom which usually leaks from your lips spoke. Thoughts of me felt like daggards in my soul. Not my heart. My soul.
I felt like a wasted companion. As if I could never change. As if I was making you miserable.
Then you solicit a question to me. My answer was only to be taken to my grave so that in the Heavens... it would no longer be.
He raised his voice and denied my truth. Not looking into the eyes of the one he loves but instead dialated glares of how dare you and how could you and... I told you never to tell. My mind is now free. I drowned in this secret. No air this time.
Or else.
Your hands hovered your teary cheeks. Tracks of pink and black free fall down to your broken heart. I touch your hand and you pull away as if I am diseased with deceit. My voice failed me as I struggled for answers. My fingers intertwined not able to put you back together. Truth lies under the reason I didn't speak the truth. A truth you might not ever believe. You won't believe. You won't want to believe.
Six years ago,
Tiny hands grasp my index finger as we walk together. Little toes wiggle as I paint them pretty. Snow globes shaken and tiny bodies tucked in tightly. Voices in the background singing. Little voices. Love from my girls, intertwined and overrun. Sing me to sleep and rock me good morning say lovies as the sun retires and awakens. Stick figures on my wall and cinnamon sugar across my floor lets me know that two love bugs have infested my soul with love and light. Scraped up knees and ouchies made me smile because..... I could fix them. Tiny lips on my cheeks and many attempts to count my freckles enlightened me.
Like love enlightens you.
This is the reason I wanted to die with this secret. Or else I would never see them again. Isn't that Right?
I listened as your voice reached high octives. Your hands flailing and your cries had become weeping. You let me hold your hand. I needed you to breathe. Thoughts of how you felt about me still stinging.
I removed myself from your side and when I returned.. you were gone. I kissed your girls goodbye and told them that I loved them. A dramatic exit from their sight. They didn't know. I gave them my unwrapped gum. I closed your front door as they jumped on the couch, carefree and lovely.
The street was black and the four stars that I counted were gone. Did you take them with you? Four wishes for you.
Vinegar- One ingredient I shall never use in my cupcakes. Then again, one less ingredient makes for one good cupcake.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Samson My Love
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth I have to go, your hair was long when we first met. You went back to bed with not much hair left on your head. You ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed. History books forgot about us and the Bible didn't mention us...
Didn't mention us, not even once..
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first..
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads but they're just old light,
Your hair was long when we first met. You came to my bed and
told me that my hair was red. You told me I was beautiful and came into my bed. I cut your hair myself one night- a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light and you told me that I'd done alright and kissed me 'til the mornin' light.... you kissed me 'til the mornin' light
And so my Samson went back to bed, not much hair left on his head. He ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed. We couldn't bring the columns down, we couldn't destroy a single one. History books forgot about us and ...
the Bible didn't mention us, not even once.....
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first <3
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth I have to go, your hair was long when we first met. You went back to bed with not much hair left on your head. You ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed. History books forgot about us and the Bible didn't mention us...
Didn't mention us, not even once..
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first..
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads but they're just old light,
Your hair was long when we first met. You came to my bed and
told me that my hair was red. You told me I was beautiful and came into my bed. I cut your hair myself one night- a pair of dull scissors in the yellow light and you told me that I'd done alright and kissed me 'til the mornin' light.... you kissed me 'til the mornin' light
And so my Samson went back to bed, not much hair left on his head. He ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed. We couldn't bring the columns down, we couldn't destroy a single one. History books forgot about us and ...
the Bible didn't mention us, not even once.....
You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first <3
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
My Classroom Became Silent
Rain dripped patterns of heartbreak on my window as I packed up my classroom. What was once covered in colorful successes and messy imagination now whispers a still voice. One by one my students embrace me, looking up at me. I kneel down so that I may look each of them in the eye so that I may tell them how I much I love them. How proud I am. How amazing they are. How they inspire me. Inspire me.
There were two parents who spoke words of wisdom as they helped me tape my boxes. Just two. Thats all I needed. Belongings that were used to teach became buried in a brown box with printed pictures of styrofoam cups. Precious belongings that my children learned from, loved and touched disappeared as I struggled with the folds, taping them shut. I could hear the voices of my children as I stuffed their artwork with handprints, crooked flowers and letters to me. Emergent writing makes me smile.
I clean each desk wishing I didn't have to wipe away the marker scuffs and I heart Just Beibers. Their name tags were weary and scribbled on. I find little treasure box toys and light up pencils in their desks. Things they won't want next year. They won't need next year. Only in my class. Just in my class. Their scissors were dull and their erasers gone from correcting their sweet mistakes. I loved their mistakes. I loved when they corrected their mistakes.. without my help.
I stacked their little chairs which once held their little bodies. They grew out of those little chairs. They aren't so little anymore. I sweep the floors which were once covered in dusty footprints and tape residue which had to be torn from the floor and re-adjusted everytime they had a growth spurt. I delete picture albums from my computer and I erase anything that may be confidential. I use Mr. Eraser, Clorox wipes and bleach but nothing can erase the beautiful mess my kids left behind. Memories.
Leggo's, manipulatives and science center toys are found behind large cabinets and tables. They were looking for those. Our hampster spins her wheel frantically knowing that a new home awaits her where she will finally be free of the crazy volume that would shake walls and break glass. I like that kind of volume. From them.
I empty drawers and dispose of empty pens and dry sharpies. I collect each push pin that humbly held hundreds of worksheets, accomplishments and decorated construction paper. Staples become stubborn as they refuse to let go of walls that colored the classroom with vibrant colors, shapes and motivational quotes. I dust my desk one last time and tape up the last few boxes. I sit in my squeaky leather chair and take a look around. For once, my classroom is quiet. Too quiet. Not so beautiful.
The principal walks in holding a stack of stapled papers in his hands. I click my pen and prepare to sign what every teacher fears. He presents these papers on my desk and pulls up a chair. " This is for the best. I didn't want to do it. I'm sorry" I read the fine print and sign my first middle and last name on the dotted line. He doesn't say anything to me. Instead he stops and looks at my boxes and takes one look around the room. I felt like a grain of rice in that big classroom. He smiled and walked out. I took a minute to reflect on all the goodness that happened in that room. The sweet smell of learning. The magic that happened in front of my eyes. The love of a child. The way I changed lives.
I finished loading my truck with each box with a strip of black tape. I leave my keys on my desk and turn off the lights. I take one more look. They say your not supposed to look back. I had to. I closed the door and kept my hand on the handle. A teacher walked by me and asked why I wasn't returning. I looked at her and said..........
Budget cuts my friend. Budget cuts.
If you think cupcakes are sweet... Try teaching. :)
There were two parents who spoke words of wisdom as they helped me tape my boxes. Just two. Thats all I needed. Belongings that were used to teach became buried in a brown box with printed pictures of styrofoam cups. Precious belongings that my children learned from, loved and touched disappeared as I struggled with the folds, taping them shut. I could hear the voices of my children as I stuffed their artwork with handprints, crooked flowers and letters to me. Emergent writing makes me smile.
I clean each desk wishing I didn't have to wipe away the marker scuffs and I heart Just Beibers. Their name tags were weary and scribbled on. I find little treasure box toys and light up pencils in their desks. Things they won't want next year. They won't need next year. Only in my class. Just in my class. Their scissors were dull and their erasers gone from correcting their sweet mistakes. I loved their mistakes. I loved when they corrected their mistakes.. without my help.
I stacked their little chairs which once held their little bodies. They grew out of those little chairs. They aren't so little anymore. I sweep the floors which were once covered in dusty footprints and tape residue which had to be torn from the floor and re-adjusted everytime they had a growth spurt. I delete picture albums from my computer and I erase anything that may be confidential. I use Mr. Eraser, Clorox wipes and bleach but nothing can erase the beautiful mess my kids left behind. Memories.
Leggo's, manipulatives and science center toys are found behind large cabinets and tables. They were looking for those. Our hampster spins her wheel frantically knowing that a new home awaits her where she will finally be free of the crazy volume that would shake walls and break glass. I like that kind of volume. From them.
I empty drawers and dispose of empty pens and dry sharpies. I collect each push pin that humbly held hundreds of worksheets, accomplishments and decorated construction paper. Staples become stubborn as they refuse to let go of walls that colored the classroom with vibrant colors, shapes and motivational quotes. I dust my desk one last time and tape up the last few boxes. I sit in my squeaky leather chair and take a look around. For once, my classroom is quiet. Too quiet. Not so beautiful.
The principal walks in holding a stack of stapled papers in his hands. I click my pen and prepare to sign what every teacher fears. He presents these papers on my desk and pulls up a chair. " This is for the best. I didn't want to do it. I'm sorry" I read the fine print and sign my first middle and last name on the dotted line. He doesn't say anything to me. Instead he stops and looks at my boxes and takes one look around the room. I felt like a grain of rice in that big classroom. He smiled and walked out. I took a minute to reflect on all the goodness that happened in that room. The sweet smell of learning. The magic that happened in front of my eyes. The love of a child. The way I changed lives.
I finished loading my truck with each box with a strip of black tape. I leave my keys on my desk and turn off the lights. I take one more look. They say your not supposed to look back. I had to. I closed the door and kept my hand on the handle. A teacher walked by me and asked why I wasn't returning. I looked at her and said..........
Budget cuts my friend. Budget cuts.
If you think cupcakes are sweet... Try teaching. :)
Sunday, May 22, 2011
You.
Hi you,
I can't write for awhile. My heart and soul has nothing to say right now. I'll be back.
follow me.
I can't write for awhile. My heart and soul has nothing to say right now. I'll be back.
follow me.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Rain
Rain finally sends its showered blessings from the heavens. Raindrops beat on my windows, the sun sleeps. Clouds shaped like contorted figures skate across darkness with a desire to find some sort of illumination. They won't find it. Not today.
Thunder rolls chords of intensity. It is sure to cover every fiber of the galaxy. Lightening bestows a silent film as the sky flickers with light. I stare up into the heavens and imagine millions of fireflies sending signals of their love for each other. Electrifying. Magnatizing. Beautiful.
I stand in my classroom, soaked. Drenched. Somewhere out there, children are leaping into puddles and..... two people in love are dancing in the rain.
It's a good book and a cupcake kind of day.
Thunder rolls chords of intensity. It is sure to cover every fiber of the galaxy. Lightening bestows a silent film as the sky flickers with light. I stare up into the heavens and imagine millions of fireflies sending signals of their love for each other. Electrifying. Magnatizing. Beautiful.
I stand in my classroom, soaked. Drenched. Somewhere out there, children are leaping into puddles and..... two people in love are dancing in the rain.
It's a good book and a cupcake kind of day.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Tonight, Not Again
The night
You brushed your hands upon my flushed cheek
Smelled of childhood remnants of a dusty weeping willow
Clouds soothe, Shredded by the calico
Were so vast and quick as I was on my own now.
This time like every other time I believe that I never find
Another sweet girl with sequined sea foam eyes
Ocean lapping voice smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky
And I'm all alone again tonight not again, not again, not again.
And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice. Lovely.
Still I'm unable to inhale all the riches
As I'm awkward as a wound on my bones
Still I've got cobblestone joints and plate glass points
As I'm all by myself tonight not again not againe
Well if you should nervously break down
When its time for the shakedown would you take it?
It's when you cry just a little but you laugh in the middle
And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice.
Lovely.
Say it again. Lovely. So lovely. to do it again
Again. Loving again. It's coming again.
Lovely.
Yours truly,
Jason M.
You brushed your hands upon my flushed cheek
Smelled of childhood remnants of a dusty weeping willow
Clouds soothe, Shredded by the calico
Were so vast and quick as I was on my own now.
This time like every other time I believe that I never find
Another sweet girl with sequined sea foam eyes
Ocean lapping voice smile coy as the brightest quiet span of sky
And I'm all alone again tonight not again, not again, not again.
And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice. Lovely.
Still I'm unable to inhale all the riches
As I'm awkward as a wound on my bones
Still I've got cobblestone joints and plate glass points
As I'm all by myself tonight not again not againe
Well if you should nervously break down
When its time for the shakedown would you take it?
It's when you cry just a little but you laugh in the middle
And don't it feel allright. and don't it feel so nice.
Lovely.
Say it again. Lovely. So lovely. to do it again
Again. Loving again. It's coming again.
Lovely.
Yours truly,
Jason M.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
First Dates
First dates- in other words, an interview. We dress to impress and stuff our breathing orifices with sticks of minty gums and spearamint hard candies. We brush our cheeks with pink tones and stroke our lips a fancy tint. We lush our lashes so that you see the depths of color in our eyes. Our hair is straitened, curled, crimped and intertwined just right. We hang our clothes to prevent any kind of wrinkle. Our shoes are lined up according to which ones will match better and which ones will show off our fabulous gabs.
We run late as usual. Nora Jones plays in the background as we scrummage through our aphrodiciacs. We sprits our skin with sweet poison, a scent that will flirt with your senses. Scents that will cause your brain to want to ask questions that you probably shouldn't be asking. We calm our nerves with a glass of wine and we giggle as the butterflies flutter in our stomachs. We change five times and do our best to respond to incoming texts from our overly excited, nosey girlfriends. Mirrors laugh as we rehearse how we are going to greet you.
" So good to see you"
" How are you tonight, good to see you"
" I've missed you, good to see you"
" Hey there!! I'm obsessed with your teeth"....... okay no.
We do some last minute cleaning up and apply our last dab of chicka cherry lipgloss. We hang up our damp towels that once embraced our wet hair as we prepared our beautiful faces. Deodorant becomes an important component to staying fresh under dior circumstances- first dates!! We lather lotions and give prettyness one last look. Deep breaths and sucked in guts make our way downstairs to prepare our clutches.
Identification- check
Money- shouldn't need it ( hehe) but.. check
Lip gloss- double check
Mase- check (haha)
Gum- check
Roadside assistance in case he gets a flat - check (haha)
We carefully get in our vehicles and turn on the AC to prevent any kind of perspirations. We find the best music to rid our nervousness. We continuously look at ourselves in the rear view mirror to check for signs of unevenness or loose mascara resting under our eyes.
We arrive at our destination and we hope that you don't see us pull up. This way we can do any last minute adjustments- wedgies, hair fly aways, leggins twisted, bra's inside out. Haha. We grasp our clutches and hope that you are as nervous as we are. We see your vehicle parked in the front. More deep breaths occur as we open the door.
Then..
There you are. Smiling. Sweating alittle. Hands in your pockets. Wearing your cargo shorts and a polo shirt- untucked and wrinkled a bit. Crocs slipped over your big feet. Your tattoo peeking under your sleeves. Your hair is spiked and ...
... you smell so good.
First date desserts- cupcakes :)
We run late as usual. Nora Jones plays in the background as we scrummage through our aphrodiciacs. We sprits our skin with sweet poison, a scent that will flirt with your senses. Scents that will cause your brain to want to ask questions that you probably shouldn't be asking. We calm our nerves with a glass of wine and we giggle as the butterflies flutter in our stomachs. We change five times and do our best to respond to incoming texts from our overly excited, nosey girlfriends. Mirrors laugh as we rehearse how we are going to greet you.
" So good to see you"
" How are you tonight, good to see you"
" I've missed you, good to see you"
" Hey there!! I'm obsessed with your teeth"....... okay no.
We do some last minute cleaning up and apply our last dab of chicka cherry lipgloss. We hang up our damp towels that once embraced our wet hair as we prepared our beautiful faces. Deodorant becomes an important component to staying fresh under dior circumstances- first dates!! We lather lotions and give prettyness one last look. Deep breaths and sucked in guts make our way downstairs to prepare our clutches.
Identification- check
Money- shouldn't need it ( hehe) but.. check
Lip gloss- double check
Mase- check (haha)
Gum- check
Roadside assistance in case he gets a flat - check (haha)
We carefully get in our vehicles and turn on the AC to prevent any kind of perspirations. We find the best music to rid our nervousness. We continuously look at ourselves in the rear view mirror to check for signs of unevenness or loose mascara resting under our eyes.
We arrive at our destination and we hope that you don't see us pull up. This way we can do any last minute adjustments- wedgies, hair fly aways, leggins twisted, bra's inside out. Haha. We grasp our clutches and hope that you are as nervous as we are. We see your vehicle parked in the front. More deep breaths occur as we open the door.
Then..
There you are. Smiling. Sweating alittle. Hands in your pockets. Wearing your cargo shorts and a polo shirt- untucked and wrinkled a bit. Crocs slipped over your big feet. Your tattoo peeking under your sleeves. Your hair is spiked and ...
... you smell so good.
First date desserts- cupcakes :)
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Hey! I Got Laid
No, not me. A very close friend of mine. "Hey guess what? I got laid". That was the text he sent me late last night. I have known him for eight years and he was my only virgin friend left on this planet. He was always picked on for his choices to wait for someone he loved. Not by me. I loved that about him. He is a goofy, witty and super good looking. If you google Stefano from this seasons American Idol, you will know what I'm talking about. They are identical.
Okay so I'm just gonna say it. I made the decision when I was younger to wait on doing the " great bambino" with someone until I was married. I am 28 and I'm still holding strong. There, now all of OS knows. It's cool. I think? It's really not that bad since I don't "crave" it like some people do after they do it a couple times. Well, so I've been told. I have been asked all kinds of questions and I have collected many pennies for when people tell me " yeah right, noone is a virgin anymore". So, I'm rich by the way. haha.
My friend and I would always talk about it and kind of make fun of ourselves.. with all respect of course. We wondered how old we would both be when we "hit the jackpot" and.. I'm not talkin about money. I JUST talked to him last week- then a virgin.. then BAM now he's been ... um... laid?? Do we still refer to sex as getting "laid" Why? Does anyone take it serious anymore? Or is it just me and all the other 20 something year old virgins sneaking up on 30? Goodness.
I spoke with him this morning and I totally expressed my feelings about him just going and doing whomever. Yeah, to each their own. Some people wait and others don't and that's okay. Really. However, he had such great intentions on waiting for the woman he truely loved. I knew him better than that. I asked him why he took the plunge and he replied " well, I really wanted to wait for someone I loved, but it never happened so I said screw it and just went out and did it".
WHAT??? Just like that?
Sigh. Crazy guy.
I don't know if I'm more disappointed in the fact that he was so whateve about it or that he totally, sneakly beat me to the punch. Haha.
Now what will we talk about?
Okay so I'm just gonna say it. I made the decision when I was younger to wait on doing the " great bambino" with someone until I was married. I am 28 and I'm still holding strong. There, now all of OS knows. It's cool. I think? It's really not that bad since I don't "crave" it like some people do after they do it a couple times. Well, so I've been told. I have been asked all kinds of questions and I have collected many pennies for when people tell me " yeah right, noone is a virgin anymore". So, I'm rich by the way. haha.
My friend and I would always talk about it and kind of make fun of ourselves.. with all respect of course. We wondered how old we would both be when we "hit the jackpot" and.. I'm not talkin about money. I JUST talked to him last week- then a virgin.. then BAM now he's been ... um... laid?? Do we still refer to sex as getting "laid" Why? Does anyone take it serious anymore? Or is it just me and all the other 20 something year old virgins sneaking up on 30? Goodness.
I spoke with him this morning and I totally expressed my feelings about him just going and doing whomever. Yeah, to each their own. Some people wait and others don't and that's okay. Really. However, he had such great intentions on waiting for the woman he truely loved. I knew him better than that. I asked him why he took the plunge and he replied " well, I really wanted to wait for someone I loved, but it never happened so I said screw it and just went out and did it".
WHAT??? Just like that?
Sigh. Crazy guy.
I don't know if I'm more disappointed in the fact that he was so whateve about it or that he totally, sneakly beat me to the punch. Haha.
Now what will we talk about?
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Casey Grunts
This will be short and sweet. I am totally loving Casey on American Idol. His voice is so brash and sexy. He grunts and skats and kisses the judges. He is a Seth Rogen, Lance Hartley piece of goodness on rock and roll crack. He kills it. Kills... it.
Cupcakes with Casey tonight.
Cupcakes with Casey tonight.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Skippy Jane Jones
I finally broke down and adopted a gerbil for my well deserving students. They begged and pleaded for a class pet. As much as I love animals, I wasn't sure how I was going to take on the responsibility of my seventeen tots and a class pet that poops and flings bedding all over our mixed matched carpet. We took a class vote and chose the name Skippy Jane Jones- after the notorious Skippy Jon Jones who takes my students imagination to a different level.
Our gerbil is white with red eyes. She has been mistaken for a rat, a hamster , a mouse and a chinchilla. Wait.. a chinchilla? Seriously? I finally had to create a sign that says " Our new GERBIL Skippy Jane Jones". I adopted her from a colleauge who mistakened her two gerbils as males. When we returned from spring break, she realized one was a boy and one was a girl who got funky fresh gerbil style while everyone was on vacation. My students were so excited to hear the news as I was announcing it in circle time.
Explaining the roles of animal responsibility to a bunch of five and six year olds was interesting. They had so many questions and so many different ideas on how to take care of a classroom pet.
" We can train it to sit and roll over"
" We can buy a leash and walk it every day"
" We can teach it letters and numbers and how to write"
Then of course I have that one student who asks " do we have to wipe her butt?"
I loved hearing all of their creative ideas for taking care of Skippy Jane Jones. I have never seen anyone so excited to have the responsibility to change her dirty cage. If we were going to have a class pet, changing her cage was NOT going to be my responsibility.
Later that evening I found myself in the small pets section at Petsmart. I stared at five different cages all of which were super cool. Glow and the dark spinning wheels and different colored tubes sat boxed up on shelves awaiting my weakness to buythe " complete set". I already spoil a dog, don't tell me I'm about to go all out on .... a gerbil. I filled my cart with a state of the art cage for this little creature we were about to bring in to our beautifully chaotic classroom. Skippy Jane Jones has no idea what she is getting herself in to. It's one thing to be born in a third grade classroom where students aren't as hyper and hands on.
Poor Skippy Jane.
One hundred and fifty dollars later, I arrived at home to assemble this quite expensive, glow in the dark, two leveled, spinning wheel frenzied gerbil cage. I made sure to get the softest bedding so that our new friend would be comfortable. My dog anxiously paced back in forth fearing that I would have the nerve to bring another animal in her royal castle. Loela sniffed the bag aggressivly in hopes to find a little surprise for herself.
....Sorry Loela, I didn't bring a bone home this time.
I arrived at school the next morning with my cage and non healthy gerbil food in tote. I can hear my students voices on the playground as they hang upside down on the monkey bars screaming " is that for OUR gerbil?" I keep walking because if I turned around to answer, gerbil food , bedding and a three hour assembled cage would go crashing down. They tried to beat me to the door but thank goodness for my assistant who stopped them in their hippity hoppity tracks. I managed to get the cage placed on a sturdy surface next to my desk. I put her bedding down and filled her tiny bowl with fresh food. I snuck in a corn husk and some a granola bar thingy that is supposed to be good for their teeth. It looked good. I was tempted to take a bite.
I was really nervous about having this red-eyed long tail creature in my classroom, in close proximity to me. I placed her in her cage and I watched her make herself at home. She went right for her snack. I giggled and said "going for the snack first huh? Looks like we have alot in common" Haha. I studied her for a moment and wondered what her life will be like now that she is away from her mother and siblings. It took me back to when my mom and dad left for Alabama. I know what your thinking, how can a tiny gerbil pull a few heart strings? I don't know. I guess life without your parents whether they are hundres miles away or deceased, it could be scary.. even for a gerbil. Right?
My plans were to only let my students hold her. I had no intensions of holding her, petting her or even sticking my fingers in her cage. My assistant instantly became the " gerbil whisperer" as she spent most of her time holding and playing with Skippy Jane. She continues to put the stapler down everytime she passes her cage to take a moment and talk to Skippy. I would watch with pure amazement of how much this gerbil loves attention. Usually, they will mind their own business or hide. Skippy Jane, however, loves people. Her personality is like a humans. She knows how to get our attention and she even does little tricks like flips and stuff.
I'm finding myself becoming more in love with this gerbil haha. When I come in my classroom in the mornings, she will greet me by climbing her cage to the very top and sticking her nose out. If I am sitting at my desk, she will turn around and fall asleep, facing me in her little tube. If I move, she moves. If I go to the other side of the room, she will cling to her cage as if she is begging me to stay. Silly right? Way silly. I laugh as I catch myself asking how her night was and talking to her as if she will one day respond-kind of like I do with my dog Loela haha. When I hold Skippy Jane, she falls asleep in my hands. She likes to crawl up your arm and snuggle in the crevice between the shoulder and the neck. My assistant thinks she was a human once . Now thats silly!!!!
My kids love Skippy Jane Jones and have forgotten about center time. Instead they would rather get a book and sit quietly next to her cage and read to her. She'll listen. I swear it!!! Welcome to our class Skippy Jane Jones.
Our gerbil is white with red eyes. She has been mistaken for a rat, a hamster , a mouse and a chinchilla. Wait.. a chinchilla? Seriously? I finally had to create a sign that says " Our new GERBIL Skippy Jane Jones". I adopted her from a colleauge who mistakened her two gerbils as males. When we returned from spring break, she realized one was a boy and one was a girl who got funky fresh gerbil style while everyone was on vacation. My students were so excited to hear the news as I was announcing it in circle time.
Explaining the roles of animal responsibility to a bunch of five and six year olds was interesting. They had so many questions and so many different ideas on how to take care of a classroom pet.
" We can train it to sit and roll over"
" We can buy a leash and walk it every day"
" We can teach it letters and numbers and how to write"
Then of course I have that one student who asks " do we have to wipe her butt?"
I loved hearing all of their creative ideas for taking care of Skippy Jane Jones. I have never seen anyone so excited to have the responsibility to change her dirty cage. If we were going to have a class pet, changing her cage was NOT going to be my responsibility.
Later that evening I found myself in the small pets section at Petsmart. I stared at five different cages all of which were super cool. Glow and the dark spinning wheels and different colored tubes sat boxed up on shelves awaiting my weakness to buythe " complete set". I already spoil a dog, don't tell me I'm about to go all out on .... a gerbil. I filled my cart with a state of the art cage for this little creature we were about to bring in to our beautifully chaotic classroom. Skippy Jane Jones has no idea what she is getting herself in to. It's one thing to be born in a third grade classroom where students aren't as hyper and hands on.
Poor Skippy Jane.
One hundred and fifty dollars later, I arrived at home to assemble this quite expensive, glow in the dark, two leveled, spinning wheel frenzied gerbil cage. I made sure to get the softest bedding so that our new friend would be comfortable. My dog anxiously paced back in forth fearing that I would have the nerve to bring another animal in her royal castle. Loela sniffed the bag aggressivly in hopes to find a little surprise for herself.
....Sorry Loela, I didn't bring a bone home this time.
I arrived at school the next morning with my cage and non healthy gerbil food in tote. I can hear my students voices on the playground as they hang upside down on the monkey bars screaming " is that for OUR gerbil?" I keep walking because if I turned around to answer, gerbil food , bedding and a three hour assembled cage would go crashing down. They tried to beat me to the door but thank goodness for my assistant who stopped them in their hippity hoppity tracks. I managed to get the cage placed on a sturdy surface next to my desk. I put her bedding down and filled her tiny bowl with fresh food. I snuck in a corn husk and some a granola bar thingy that is supposed to be good for their teeth. It looked good. I was tempted to take a bite.
I was really nervous about having this red-eyed long tail creature in my classroom, in close proximity to me. I placed her in her cage and I watched her make herself at home. She went right for her snack. I giggled and said "going for the snack first huh? Looks like we have alot in common" Haha. I studied her for a moment and wondered what her life will be like now that she is away from her mother and siblings. It took me back to when my mom and dad left for Alabama. I know what your thinking, how can a tiny gerbil pull a few heart strings? I don't know. I guess life without your parents whether they are hundres miles away or deceased, it could be scary.. even for a gerbil. Right?
My plans were to only let my students hold her. I had no intensions of holding her, petting her or even sticking my fingers in her cage. My assistant instantly became the " gerbil whisperer" as she spent most of her time holding and playing with Skippy Jane. She continues to put the stapler down everytime she passes her cage to take a moment and talk to Skippy. I would watch with pure amazement of how much this gerbil loves attention. Usually, they will mind their own business or hide. Skippy Jane, however, loves people. Her personality is like a humans. She knows how to get our attention and she even does little tricks like flips and stuff.
I'm finding myself becoming more in love with this gerbil haha. When I come in my classroom in the mornings, she will greet me by climbing her cage to the very top and sticking her nose out. If I am sitting at my desk, she will turn around and fall asleep, facing me in her little tube. If I move, she moves. If I go to the other side of the room, she will cling to her cage as if she is begging me to stay. Silly right? Way silly. I laugh as I catch myself asking how her night was and talking to her as if she will one day respond-kind of like I do with my dog Loela haha. When I hold Skippy Jane, she falls asleep in my hands. She likes to crawl up your arm and snuggle in the crevice between the shoulder and the neck. My assistant thinks she was a human once . Now thats silly!!!!
My kids love Skippy Jane Jones and have forgotten about center time. Instead they would rather get a book and sit quietly next to her cage and read to her. She'll listen. I swear it!!! Welcome to our class Skippy Jane Jones.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Daydreaming Part II
I will live my life as a lobsterman's wife on an island in the blue bay.
He will take care of me, he will smell like the sea, and close to my heart he'll always stay. I will bear three girls all with strawberry curls, little Ella and Windland and Shay. While I'm combing their hair, I will catch his warm stare ....
On our island in the blue bay.
I want to go far away. To a new life on a new shore line. Where the water is blue and the people are new. Maybe to another island, in another life.
There's a boy next to me and he never will be anything but a boy at the bar, and I think he's the tops, he's where everything stops.....
How I love to love him from afar.
When he walks right pass me then I finally see on this bar stool I can't stay. So I'm taking my frown to a far distant town. On an island in the blue bay.
Cupcakes- with sea salt :)
He will take care of me, he will smell like the sea, and close to my heart he'll always stay. I will bear three girls all with strawberry curls, little Ella and Windland and Shay. While I'm combing their hair, I will catch his warm stare ....
On our island in the blue bay.
I want to go far away. To a new life on a new shore line. Where the water is blue and the people are new. Maybe to another island, in another life.
There's a boy next to me and he never will be anything but a boy at the bar, and I think he's the tops, he's where everything stops.....
How I love to love him from afar.
When he walks right pass me then I finally see on this bar stool I can't stay. So I'm taking my frown to a far distant town. On an island in the blue bay.
Cupcakes- with sea salt :)
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Roaring the 1920's
Rain splattered on my red polka dotted umbrella as I tip toed my way around muddy puddles and water filled pot holes. The raindrops corrining down the ends of my umbrella begged me to catch them before falling onto the gravel beneath me.
Thunder sent its revenge within the heavens, sending lightening through the silver clouds that starved for the suns illuminations. I see you sitting. Your legs crossed. You were wearing your notorius baggy wide-legged trousers , one of your simpler suits with just slim, unpadded jackets over your creased trousers. Those two-toned shoes, which you have shined every morning. Your bowler laid upside down on table set for two, a glass of hootch on the rocks. The newspaper was folded patiently on the edge of the table, awaiting your beautiful eyes to skim it's pages. You were swell I tell ya. The cat's pajamas.
I couldn't get to you fast enough. I clutched my cloche hat as the wind whirled around me teasing the ends of my flapper dress. The streets were filled with the hustle and bustle of business and pleasure. We were young women rebelling against the old matriarchs and wore our hair short and hiked up our hem lines. We painted our faces in the spirit of our new found freedom sparked by economic wealth and new political rights. Finding you was the bees knees.
You adjusted your cheaters as I approached you. You were fried to the hat sittin there all swanky. The first thing that came out of your kisser was "Cash or check baby?" I looked at your ossified face and replied " Sorry Mac, banks closed. Check me later when your not actin a drunken fool". You were a smooth fellow. Making me fall in love with you. You hard boiled son of a gun.
I set my gold mesh rhinestone clutch on the table. My red lipstick stained the rim of your glass as I s
wigged down the rest of your drink. You pulled my chair out for me and asked me to share your company. You ordered another hair of the dog and You glared at my gams, crossed beside the table. I drank my cup of joe as you clutched my hands while Wall Street crashed behind us. You didn't have to say anything to me. Anything.
This was just a few little snippets of information my great grandmother told me when she was dating the love of her life. I was little, I don't remember much. All I remember is that her eyes lit up as she told me of a day at the cafe with him. Love.
Thunder sent its revenge within the heavens, sending lightening through the silver clouds that starved for the suns illuminations. I see you sitting. Your legs crossed. You were wearing your notorius baggy wide-legged trousers , one of your simpler suits with just slim, unpadded jackets over your creased trousers. Those two-toned shoes, which you have shined every morning. Your bowler laid upside down on table set for two, a glass of hootch on the rocks. The newspaper was folded patiently on the edge of the table, awaiting your beautiful eyes to skim it's pages. You were swell I tell ya. The cat's pajamas.
I couldn't get to you fast enough. I clutched my cloche hat as the wind whirled around me teasing the ends of my flapper dress. The streets were filled with the hustle and bustle of business and pleasure. We were young women rebelling against the old matriarchs and wore our hair short and hiked up our hem lines. We painted our faces in the spirit of our new found freedom sparked by economic wealth and new political rights. Finding you was the bees knees.
You adjusted your cheaters as I approached you. You were fried to the hat sittin there all swanky. The first thing that came out of your kisser was "Cash or check baby?" I looked at your ossified face and replied " Sorry Mac, banks closed. Check me later when your not actin a drunken fool". You were a smooth fellow. Making me fall in love with you. You hard boiled son of a gun.
I set my gold mesh rhinestone clutch on the table. My red lipstick stained the rim of your glass as I s
wigged down the rest of your drink. You pulled my chair out for me and asked me to share your company. You ordered another hair of the dog and You glared at my gams, crossed beside the table. I drank my cup of joe as you clutched my hands while Wall Street crashed behind us. You didn't have to say anything to me. Anything.
This was just a few little snippets of information my great grandmother told me when she was dating the love of her life. I was little, I don't remember much. All I remember is that her eyes lit up as she told me of a day at the cafe with him. Love.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Pfft.. Bring it 2012
As I sit here watching Apocalypse 2012 on CNBC, I find myself floored over how many people actually fear 2012. People are seeing psychiatrists, considering suicide, purchasing survival products from 2012supplies.com and building survial commuinties in the hills of Arizona. I mean, it's okay to be prepared for a catastrophy but goodness.
It is my opinion that nothing will happen when 2012 comes. People seem to be panicking just like they did when Y2Kwas approaching. I'm simply saying, just because the Mayan calender will be completed, doesn' t mean the world is coming to a end. Who are they to tell us that the world is going to end? I mean, haven't we spend billions upon billions on technology? If everything is expected to shut down and planes are to fall from the heavens, shouldn't we have been prepared?
I watched the movie 2012 and I must say I was disappointed. The films conclusion was outrageous. Who were these "beings" coming to collect people from earth? Was John Cusack being "left behind"? Is there a Christian twist here? I'm quite confused.
Maybe I am overlooking the whole idea of 2012 and maybe I'm not taking it that seriously. I am a Christian and I can't wrap my mind around the fact that God would allow such destruction upon us if Jesus is not to return yet. Now, don't get me wrong, every person is encouraged to make their own leap and believe what they want and what they know. I am in NO way judging. However, "if" the world was going to end in 2012, don't you think people would do their best to enjoy life instead of living in fear? We aren't supposed to live in fear.
Did I just hear that a man bought an underground bunker for 1.5 million dollars? For real? Give me a break. Sounds like bad threats from bad science.
I know that one day this world will end... When Jesus returns. Until then, I have time to make 2012 yummy cupcakes :)
It is my opinion that nothing will happen when 2012 comes. People seem to be panicking just like they did when Y2Kwas approaching. I'm simply saying, just because the Mayan calender will be completed, doesn' t mean the world is coming to a end. Who are they to tell us that the world is going to end? I mean, haven't we spend billions upon billions on technology? If everything is expected to shut down and planes are to fall from the heavens, shouldn't we have been prepared?
I watched the movie 2012 and I must say I was disappointed. The films conclusion was outrageous. Who were these "beings" coming to collect people from earth? Was John Cusack being "left behind"? Is there a Christian twist here? I'm quite confused.
Maybe I am overlooking the whole idea of 2012 and maybe I'm not taking it that seriously. I am a Christian and I can't wrap my mind around the fact that God would allow such destruction upon us if Jesus is not to return yet. Now, don't get me wrong, every person is encouraged to make their own leap and believe what they want and what they know. I am in NO way judging. However, "if" the world was going to end in 2012, don't you think people would do their best to enjoy life instead of living in fear? We aren't supposed to live in fear.
Did I just hear that a man bought an underground bunker for 1.5 million dollars? For real? Give me a break. Sounds like bad threats from bad science.
I know that one day this world will end... When Jesus returns. Until then, I have time to make 2012 yummy cupcakes :)
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Pretty Mercy
Labor began at eleven thirty last night. She didn't get much sleep due to contractions. They were eight minutes apart.
I have known her for seven years and it didn't take long for us to become friends. She was allergic to mangos. We both had alot in common. We both had just cut off our long lucious locks. We both were single. We both loved God and we both wondered when our prince charmings would arrive on their noble steeds. Our friends and siblings were married, getting married or were on the brink of being engaged. We met at church and we were sometimes overtaken by the church giggles. Someone was always doing something funny in that place.
I remember being in the kitchen with her one night, dipping my french fries in my frosty. I told her I was going to invent a dessert that had a frosty and french fry concoction that would send our tastebuds into a supersonic whirlwind of pleasure. She laughed.
I signed on to check my mail one evening after work and read that my sweet friend was.. expecting. I was so happy for her. I wrote her many joys and thrills. She couldn't be happier. We talked about this moment so many years ago. In the kitchen, eating frosty's and french fries. She grew so beautifully. Her belly grew round like a watermelon. A sweet little watermelon with a lovely little seed inside. She carried her baby gently and lovingly. Her baby shower included that yummy baby punch and many gifts wrapped in pale pinks and creams. She made out like a bandit with all those presents- or should we say, the bun in the oven hit the jackpot. So many people love her and came to celebrate this blessing from our wonderful, amazing God.
So, here we are. A beautiful baby girl has been born. Rocked in the arms of God and gently placed in her mothers arms.
Mercy is her name. A name meaning compassion. She will be loved to 100th power. May she be as humble as her mother. Happy Birthday pretty Mercy.
Pink cupcakes for everyone :)
I have known her for seven years and it didn't take long for us to become friends. She was allergic to mangos. We both had alot in common. We both had just cut off our long lucious locks. We both were single. We both loved God and we both wondered when our prince charmings would arrive on their noble steeds. Our friends and siblings were married, getting married or were on the brink of being engaged. We met at church and we were sometimes overtaken by the church giggles. Someone was always doing something funny in that place.
I remember being in the kitchen with her one night, dipping my french fries in my frosty. I told her I was going to invent a dessert that had a frosty and french fry concoction that would send our tastebuds into a supersonic whirlwind of pleasure. She laughed.
The day came when her prince charming came knocking at her door, sweeping her off her feet. She fell in love and.. said yes!! They married in May and I was saddened at the fact that I couldn't be there to see her walk down the isle. She became a gypsy wife, traveling around the United States with the love of her life. His work took him everywhere, and she followed. Actually, I wouldn't say followed, more like.. stood by his side -and loved him everyday. Everyday.
I signed on to check my mail one evening after work and read that my sweet friend was.. expecting. I was so happy for her. I wrote her many joys and thrills. She couldn't be happier. We talked about this moment so many years ago. In the kitchen, eating frosty's and french fries. She grew so beautifully. Her belly grew round like a watermelon. A sweet little watermelon with a lovely little seed inside. She carried her baby gently and lovingly. Her baby shower included that yummy baby punch and many gifts wrapped in pale pinks and creams. She made out like a bandit with all those presents- or should we say, the bun in the oven hit the jackpot. So many people love her and came to celebrate this blessing from our wonderful, amazing God.
So, here we are. A beautiful baby girl has been born. Rocked in the arms of God and gently placed in her mothers arms.
Mercy is her name. A name meaning compassion. She will be loved to 100th power. May she be as humble as her mother. Happy Birthday pretty Mercy.
Pink cupcakes for everyone :)
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Shh TAKS Testing in Progress
I had the opportunity to administer the TAKS test to a group of eighth graders today. If you are not familiar with TAKS, it stands for Texas Assentials of Knowledge and Skills and it's a standardized test used in Texas primary and secondary schools to assess students' attainment of reading, writing, math, science, and social studies skills required under Texas education standards.
Translation: A mind boggling, sleep inducing, sweat producing, stress levels through the roof exam. This does not apply to only students but to our teachers as well.
I checked in with our counselor (who, may I add, is absolutely wonderful), signed my life away and walked away with a box full of secured testing materials, seven pencils, seven highlighters and a florescent orange sign that said " Testing in Progress". It felt as if I was holding a porclean artifact with steep valuables inside. We were encouraged not to leave it unattended and hold tight if transitions should occur. I was so excited to administer such an imparative assessement. Our students have endured many tutoring sessions both in the morning and afterschool. This includes our Science and Math bootcamp on Fridays. So, I was completely looking forward to seeing excited faces. Excited meaning they know how much sweat blood and tears towards passing this exam was shed and a feeling of relief that it is over. Well, till next year.
I walked into the room where the testing was to occur, totally pumped and ready to distribute the test booklets. Instead of seeing happy faces, I see slumped over bodies, heads on the table and sweaters zipped all the way to their necks. Once the door closes, there is no talking and no communicating unless you are reading the directions. I wanted to hug each of them and wish them good luck. By the looks of things, these kids were anxious, bushed and barely motivated. Maybe it's because it was early. Maybe they didn't eat a good breakfast. Maybe their.... scared. I gave them a thumbs up and a big smile as I distributed the booklets and answer sheets. Maybe that would help. Maybe not.
Here's how TAKS works: Teachers are to teach according to a strict curriculum in order to prepare our students for TAKS. April arrives and it's the most stressful, sleepless month for those teachers and students. If a student does not pass TAKS, it is possible that he/she will be retained and scores may drop. This will not look good for teachers who teache TAKS grades. So, I can understand how they were feeling this morning. Or can I? I mean, who wants to work so hard, fail the test and have to repeat the grade? What's worse? repeating the same grade? Or facing embarrassment from peers for having to do so? The more I thought about it, the more I really felt for these students. Whats making our students more sleepy on test days? Lack of a good bedtime? Or stress?
I spent seven hours observing the emotions of the students. Some wanted to just sleep, as if it would make the test disappear. Some wanted numerous breaks. I let them have breaks. I didn't want them stressing each hour of this crazy day. Lunch seemed to be the only time they became themselves again. They all bunched up at the lunch tables with their chicken patties and fruit punch juices and didn't mention a WORD about the test. Why would they? That twenty five minutes was their escape. Each student who completed their test closed their booklets as if they never wanted it in their sight again. Tossing their pencils across the other side of the table as if it had betrayed them. Erasers were gone and the lead was dull. Highlighter marker lids on the floor. Lots of stretching and yawning. Lots. I couldn't tell what was worse, my feet in agony from the constant active monitoring or my students having to wait two months for their scores.
I have faith in my fellow, beautiful colleagues who use their passion wisely to teach these students. TAKS will not, should not, could not scare us. There should never be fear in learning. Oh TAKS, you come and go each year with a vengance, yet, we will defeat you.
No eating while testing... but what about cupcakes??
Translation: A mind boggling, sleep inducing, sweat producing, stress levels through the roof exam. This does not apply to only students but to our teachers as well.
I checked in with our counselor (who, may I add, is absolutely wonderful), signed my life away and walked away with a box full of secured testing materials, seven pencils, seven highlighters and a florescent orange sign that said " Testing in Progress". It felt as if I was holding a porclean artifact with steep valuables inside. We were encouraged not to leave it unattended and hold tight if transitions should occur. I was so excited to administer such an imparative assessement. Our students have endured many tutoring sessions both in the morning and afterschool. This includes our Science and Math bootcamp on Fridays. So, I was completely looking forward to seeing excited faces. Excited meaning they know how much sweat blood and tears towards passing this exam was shed and a feeling of relief that it is over. Well, till next year.
I walked into the room where the testing was to occur, totally pumped and ready to distribute the test booklets. Instead of seeing happy faces, I see slumped over bodies, heads on the table and sweaters zipped all the way to their necks. Once the door closes, there is no talking and no communicating unless you are reading the directions. I wanted to hug each of them and wish them good luck. By the looks of things, these kids were anxious, bushed and barely motivated. Maybe it's because it was early. Maybe they didn't eat a good breakfast. Maybe their.... scared. I gave them a thumbs up and a big smile as I distributed the booklets and answer sheets. Maybe that would help. Maybe not.
Here's how TAKS works: Teachers are to teach according to a strict curriculum in order to prepare our students for TAKS. April arrives and it's the most stressful, sleepless month for those teachers and students. If a student does not pass TAKS, it is possible that he/she will be retained and scores may drop. This will not look good for teachers who teache TAKS grades. So, I can understand how they were feeling this morning. Or can I? I mean, who wants to work so hard, fail the test and have to repeat the grade? What's worse? repeating the same grade? Or facing embarrassment from peers for having to do so? The more I thought about it, the more I really felt for these students. Whats making our students more sleepy on test days? Lack of a good bedtime? Or stress?
I spent seven hours observing the emotions of the students. Some wanted to just sleep, as if it would make the test disappear. Some wanted numerous breaks. I let them have breaks. I didn't want them stressing each hour of this crazy day. Lunch seemed to be the only time they became themselves again. They all bunched up at the lunch tables with their chicken patties and fruit punch juices and didn't mention a WORD about the test. Why would they? That twenty five minutes was their escape. Each student who completed their test closed their booklets as if they never wanted it in their sight again. Tossing their pencils across the other side of the table as if it had betrayed them. Erasers were gone and the lead was dull. Highlighter marker lids on the floor. Lots of stretching and yawning. Lots. I couldn't tell what was worse, my feet in agony from the constant active monitoring or my students having to wait two months for their scores.
I have faith in my fellow, beautiful colleagues who use their passion wisely to teach these students. TAKS will not, should not, could not scare us. There should never be fear in learning. Oh TAKS, you come and go each year with a vengance, yet, we will defeat you.
No eating while testing... but what about cupcakes??
Monday, April 4, 2011
Eat My Cupcake
Yeah, thats correct. Eat My Cupcake. I will forever be thankful for the gift to teach, to love and to inspire. I do love being a teacher and I will forever and always love each of my children. I do want to be the teacher in their lives who they can look back on and remember everything about me. I believe I will always teach in some way, inspire in someway and one day, hopefully change a life. Or have I already? But you guys know me. You've been trying to tell me for years.....
So here's what I dream of doing one day....
My masters program begins in August. I will withdraw from the program and enroll in culinary school specializing in pastry and cake decorations. Then I will work as an intern at a bakery and master the art of sweets and delishiousness for one year. Maybe less because I will be so good at what I do because of this passion that it won't take me a year to master the goodness of baking.
Here's what tops the cake..
Open up my own cupcake business and call it, yup you guessed it.......
Eat My Cupcake.
I have found myself completely frenzied with thoughts of this passion I have with cupcakes. Cupcakes are sweet. Love is sweet. When you put the two together, you get a damn good concoction of yumminess. When you add a cup of passion and a half of cup of ardor, you get success. Sift alittle happiness in there and you have yourself a supersonic Megan made cupcake. I will name each cupcake after someone I love, with a little cute twist on it. For example, my grandmothers name was Sandy, so I could do a yellow lemon cupcake with a vanilla-lemon sugar frosting and call it Sandy's Sunshine. Or perhaps my first love- who's nickname is Casper. So I can make a white cupcake with a homemade pina colada sugar frosting and call it Caspers Delights lol. I have time to think of distinctive names for my cupcakes.
I will have Open Poetry nights and Build Your Own Cupcake nights. I will enourage your first date to be inside Eat My Cupcake getting to know each other over sweet luxury. I will do events and weddings and baby showers OH MY!!! I will have those little rubber wrist bands that say "Eat Sweetly" Or maybe "Eat for Life". Well, then people might think I'm encouraging obesity. Right?
I will make pretty pink cupcakes for when Race for the Cure comes to town. Teachers will get discounts on cupcakes, cakes and all yumminess. Because without teachers, our futures aren't so sweet. Teaching will not end in the classroom. I will offer cooking classes for people who love to play with their food. I will teach my bakers that the best part of a cupcake is the sprinkles- because color illuminates love and people love cupcakes.
I will be responsible for frosting on the tip of your noses and spoiling your dinner. I will study your hungry faces as you stare into the cupcake window debating if you want chocolate .... or triple dutch chocolate. I will giggle when you ask for fat free frosting, even though I will offer it. This makes me happy.
One thing I look forward to......
Is coming home, to you, with flour on my face and smelling like cake batter
So here's what I dream of doing one day....
My masters program begins in August. I will withdraw from the program and enroll in culinary school specializing in pastry and cake decorations. Then I will work as an intern at a bakery and master the art of sweets and delishiousness for one year. Maybe less because I will be so good at what I do because of this passion that it won't take me a year to master the goodness of baking.
Here's what tops the cake..
Open up my own cupcake business and call it, yup you guessed it.......
Eat My Cupcake.
I have found myself completely frenzied with thoughts of this passion I have with cupcakes. Cupcakes are sweet. Love is sweet. When you put the two together, you get a damn good concoction of yumminess. When you add a cup of passion and a half of cup of ardor, you get success. Sift alittle happiness in there and you have yourself a supersonic Megan made cupcake. I will name each cupcake after someone I love, with a little cute twist on it. For example, my grandmothers name was Sandy, so I could do a yellow lemon cupcake with a vanilla-lemon sugar frosting and call it Sandy's Sunshine. Or perhaps my first love- who's nickname is Casper. So I can make a white cupcake with a homemade pina colada sugar frosting and call it Caspers Delights lol. I have time to think of distinctive names for my cupcakes.
I will have Open Poetry nights and Build Your Own Cupcake nights. I will enourage your first date to be inside Eat My Cupcake getting to know each other over sweet luxury. I will do events and weddings and baby showers OH MY!!! I will have those little rubber wrist bands that say "Eat Sweetly" Or maybe "Eat for Life". Well, then people might think I'm encouraging obesity. Right?
I will make pretty pink cupcakes for when Race for the Cure comes to town. Teachers will get discounts on cupcakes, cakes and all yumminess. Because without teachers, our futures aren't so sweet. Teaching will not end in the classroom. I will offer cooking classes for people who love to play with their food. I will teach my bakers that the best part of a cupcake is the sprinkles- because color illuminates love and people love cupcakes.
I will be responsible for frosting on the tip of your noses and spoiling your dinner. I will study your hungry faces as you stare into the cupcake window debating if you want chocolate .... or triple dutch chocolate. I will giggle when you ask for fat free frosting, even though I will offer it. This makes me happy.
One thing I look forward to......
Is coming home, to you, with flour on my face and smelling like cake batter
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Four Minutes to Find Mom
I only enjoy driving into the arrival terminal when my mother comes to down. I find myself stuck in the middle lane as a traffic jam encases me. I roll my window down to hear the hustle and bustle of laughter, police whistles and car horns. Suitcases of all shapes and colors sit tolerently on the curb as their owners await their rides. What's in those suitcases? Clothes? Souvenirss? Perhaps nothing except one ticket to a new beginning. A woman flicks her cigarette as she impatiently awaits a cab. Four luggage bags by her side. Taking a much needed vacation maybe? That's alot of luggage. I hope heartache isn't along for the ride.
Strangers put forth their necks and glare into the sunlight in hopes that the next car to turn the corner will be someone they love. Children release the hands of their mothers and hurdle themselves into their dads arms- with one bag, dressed in camoflauge... coming home. I can hear the skycabs shouting "Four minutes, you have four minutes to drive through the terminal. If you do not see your loved one, please circle around". Travelers wave frantically making sure they aren't missed. Some are. They drop their waving arms in disappointment and wait for them to come back around. Do any of them not come back around?
I don't have much time left before I have to circle around this place again. A skycab approaches my truck and asks me how many people will I picking up. I said "just one". He said " do you see them?"
I said...
No, but I look like her. I have her laugh and I have her smile-except her smile is like that one star that illuminates the heavens. The one that everyone wishes upon. My hair curls slightly like hers and we both have freckles. Sometimes I sound like her, walk like her and write like her. I write my O's and my N's like her. She is left handed but is always right- so she jokes. She stains her lips a dark red and wears a gold ring on her pinky finger. He said " I'm sorry but I can't help you".
I said, she is something beautiful.... and I see her, with her little red suitcase. Waving with her hands that look like her mothers and a smile that looks like mine. He said, " ah, now I see"
She makes cupcakes in ice cream cones. :)
Strangers put forth their necks and glare into the sunlight in hopes that the next car to turn the corner will be someone they love. Children release the hands of their mothers and hurdle themselves into their dads arms- with one bag, dressed in camoflauge... coming home. I can hear the skycabs shouting "Four minutes, you have four minutes to drive through the terminal. If you do not see your loved one, please circle around". Travelers wave frantically making sure they aren't missed. Some are. They drop their waving arms in disappointment and wait for them to come back around. Do any of them not come back around?
I don't have much time left before I have to circle around this place again. A skycab approaches my truck and asks me how many people will I picking up. I said "just one". He said " do you see them?"
I said...
No, but I look like her. I have her laugh and I have her smile-except her smile is like that one star that illuminates the heavens. The one that everyone wishes upon. My hair curls slightly like hers and we both have freckles. Sometimes I sound like her, walk like her and write like her. I write my O's and my N's like her. She is left handed but is always right- so she jokes. She stains her lips a dark red and wears a gold ring on her pinky finger. He said " I'm sorry but I can't help you".
I said, she is something beautiful.... and I see her, with her little red suitcase. Waving with her hands that look like her mothers and a smile that looks like mine. He said, " ah, now I see"
She makes cupcakes in ice cream cones. :)
Friday, April 1, 2011
One Train With You
It was a Tuesday morning when I was waiting at the station. I was adjusting my pearls when i saw you getting off the train. You didn't have a ticket so you had to bum through the barriers again. I laughed. You brushed the hair from my face. The ticket inspector saw you rushing through to tell me" you don't know how much I missed you but we'd better run cause I haven't got the funds to pay this fine. I said.. fine.
So we ran out of the station and jumped onto a bus with two of yesterdays travel cards and two bottles of bud and you said "you look well nice".
See I was wearing your favorite skirt, you know, the one that brushes the tips of the green grass covered in morning dew. On a Saturday. And you thought that I looked nice. Then I whispered in your ear that I didn't really care about anything else cause I only wanted you to think that I looked nice.
And you did. But you were looking at me, all funny in the eye. I said "come on, tell me what you're thinking and you said "I'll try". I watched your lips as you said "all the stars up in the sky and the leaves in the trees, all the broken bits that make you jump up and grassy bits in between. All the matter in the world is how much I like you."
I laughed and said "what?" You said "let me try and explain again"
You covered your mouth and coughed and then said "birds can fly so high and they can shit on your head and they can almost fly into your eye and make you feel so scared...but when you look at them and you see that they're beautiful. That's how I feel about you. I said "what are you talking about?" You said "you". I said "thanks, I like you too". You said "cool". My train arrived.... and ... you wrote a poem on my hand. I read it.. over and over again.
I daydream too much :)
So we ran out of the station and jumped onto a bus with two of yesterdays travel cards and two bottles of bud and you said "you look well nice".
See I was wearing your favorite skirt, you know, the one that brushes the tips of the green grass covered in morning dew. On a Saturday. And you thought that I looked nice. Then I whispered in your ear that I didn't really care about anything else cause I only wanted you to think that I looked nice.
And you did. But you were looking at me, all funny in the eye. I said "come on, tell me what you're thinking and you said "I'll try". I watched your lips as you said "all the stars up in the sky and the leaves in the trees, all the broken bits that make you jump up and grassy bits in between. All the matter in the world is how much I like you."
I laughed and said "what?" You said "let me try and explain again"
You covered your mouth and coughed and then said "birds can fly so high and they can shit on your head and they can almost fly into your eye and make you feel so scared...but when you look at them and you see that they're beautiful. That's how I feel about you. I said "what are you talking about?" You said "you". I said "thanks, I like you too". You said "cool". My train arrived.... and ... you wrote a poem on my hand. I read it.. over and over again.
I daydream too much :)
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Out of the Mouths of Babes III
They say the funniest things. My students. Whom I adore.
- Oh nooooo, it's the end of the worrrrrld!!! Oh well, guess I don't have to my homework.
- Can we watch Family Guy instead of having circle time?
- Um, I have a headache. Ms. T, can you push me down and yell " YOUR HEALED" like that sweaty guy on TV does?
- My fingers smell like fruitloops.
- :singing: I'm gonna catch little butterfly and... and.. :: evil voice:: PUT IT IN A BOX... and.. and.... pet it.
- Look, the clouds are crying again. Geeze, what a bunch of cry babies
- I didn't sleep good last night because you worked my brain too hard.
- But if I apologize, then I will look like the weak one. My dad says the first person who says sorry first has no balls.
- I snore because I'm black
- I lost two teeth last night. The toothfairy must be broke because she only left me fifty cents.
- Ms T, I can totally rhyme the word sit : hit, lit bit, fit, shit... oh shit I said shit. Shit. Am I in trouble?
- I totally just Chris Brown'd him in bingo
- I love you Ms T. Your like, butter to my biscuit, a really fluffy one from Cracker Barrel.
Kids and cupcakes- thats all you need :)
- Oh nooooo, it's the end of the worrrrrld!!! Oh well, guess I don't have to my homework.
- Can we watch Family Guy instead of having circle time?
- Um, I have a headache. Ms. T, can you push me down and yell " YOUR HEALED" like that sweaty guy on TV does?
- My fingers smell like fruitloops.
- :singing: I'm gonna catch little butterfly and... and.. :: evil voice:: PUT IT IN A BOX... and.. and.... pet it.
- Look, the clouds are crying again. Geeze, what a bunch of cry babies
- I didn't sleep good last night because you worked my brain too hard.
- But if I apologize, then I will look like the weak one. My dad says the first person who says sorry first has no balls.
- I snore because I'm black
- I lost two teeth last night. The toothfairy must be broke because she only left me fifty cents.
- Ms T, I can totally rhyme the word sit : hit, lit bit, fit, shit... oh shit I said shit. Shit. Am I in trouble?
- I totally just Chris Brown'd him in bingo
- I love you Ms T. Your like, butter to my biscuit, a really fluffy one from Cracker Barrel.
Kids and cupcakes- thats all you need :)
3 sugars, not 2
All I know is that you're so nice
You're the nicest thing I've seen
I wish that we could give it a go
See if we could be something
I wish I was your favourite girl
I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world
I wish I was your favourite smile
I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style
I wish you couldn't figure me out
But you'd always wanna know what I was about
I wish you'd hold my hand
When I was upset
I wish you'd never forget
The look on my face when we first met
I wish you had a favourite beauty spot
That you loved secretly
'Cause it was on a hidden bit
That nobody else could see
Basically, I wish that you loved me
I wish that you needed me
I wish that you knew when I said two sugars,
Actually I meant three
I wish that without me your heart would break
I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake
I wish that without me you couldn't eat
I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep
Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen
And I wish that we could see if we could be something
Yeah I wish that we could see if we could be something
You're the nicest thing I've seen
I wish that we could give it a go
See if we could be something
I wish I was your favourite girl
I wish you thought I was the reason you are in the world
I wish I was your favourite smile
I wish the way that I dressed was your favourite kind of style
I wish you couldn't figure me out
But you'd always wanna know what I was about
I wish you'd hold my hand
When I was upset
I wish you'd never forget
The look on my face when we first met
I wish you had a favourite beauty spot
That you loved secretly
'Cause it was on a hidden bit
That nobody else could see
Basically, I wish that you loved me
I wish that you needed me
I wish that you knew when I said two sugars,
Actually I meant three
I wish that without me your heart would break
I wish that without me you'd be spending the rest of your nights awake
I wish that without me you couldn't eat
I wish I was the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep
Look, all I know is that you're the nicest thing I've ever seen
And I wish that we could see if we could be something
Yeah I wish that we could see if we could be something
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Number Six
I have always wondered what it would be like to have a five minute date with twenty two random men in one night. I couldn't see how it was possible getting to know somebody in less than five minutes. I couln't see how it was possible to not fine one thing interesting in twenty two men.
My colleague begged me for weeks to register for a speed dating night here in Austin. Speed dating?? Like, how they do it in the movies? Don't they usually end up going terrible wrong? After two weeks of sending me constant reminders and pokes through our school e-mail, I finally caved and agreed to try it " just this once". I mean, how bad can it be?
I took some time to review the website. I had to pay 35 dollars to register and get my number. However, there was only one problem, registration for men was free. What? Isn't it usally the other way around? This instantly gave me a bad vibe about the whole " speed dating" thing. My friend was super excited and wouldn't stop talking about it. I, on the other hand, was 35 dollars short with nothing to wear.
The day approached me way to fast. All these days I was thinking horribly very bad no good thoughts about this event and I found myself.......nervous. Butterflies swarmed my tummy and I spent the majority of my lunch break pondering on this one very important question: flip flops.... or heels? I took my lean cuisine and decided to see how my colleague was feeling about this silliness that was about to occur. I enter her room to find her sitting in front of her computer, trying to back out. WHAT? Oh.. hell...no. She did not spend weeks persuading me into this mess and here she is trying to get her money back? So, it was my turn to persuade. Well, actually it was more like a threat. It worked.
I went home and stood in my closet for about ten minutes. My pup sat next to me as if she was going too. I was asking her what she thinks I should wear, as if she was going to answer me. Is this what dating does to you? Talking to a dog that probably won't respond. Oh, I use "probably" because I swear Loela understands me and will one day respond to me. Ha. I pull out some "skinny" jeans and a tank top. I imagined myself tumbling across the lounge in my high heels so I decide to wear my flip flops. Besides, what if I need to make a run for it?
I painted my face pretty and gave my chocolate brown locks a curl. The butterflies went from fluttering to strait up disco dancing. Loela rested on my bed and watched me get ready. I was wanting to feel content like her. Thirty five dollars? Goodness. This better be ONE hell of a speed date. I glossed my kisser with my notorious chicka cherry glistener. I took one look at myself and took a deep breath. This should be interesting! I put all my girly necessities in my clutch and made my way downstairs. Kissed Loela goodbye and told her to wish me luck. I think I might have heard her actually say it. Haha.
Driving to the lounge seemed long. I don't know how I could have went from not caring about this event to being extrememly nervous. I felt like I was going up to bat in the 8th inning with two strikes and twenty to single successful men were watching, with their score sheets and mini pencils. Sign in was at 8:00 sharp. I was able to talk this guy whose parking lot was full to squeeze my truck somewhere close so I didn't have to walk and get all winded and stuff. I mean, they don't call them skinny jeans for nothing. The longer I stay stuffed in them, the more I can't breathe. Hmm, note to self: no more skinny jeans if... I'm not skinny?
I walk in the lounge to find my friend sipping on a Jack and Coke. Noone had a name tag on so I didn't know if the guys sitting next to me was a speed dater. We sat and chatted for about thirty minutes until we were called to circle up and get our numbers. That's right, we weren't going to be known for our names, but for our numbers. Like prison? Ugh, here we go. I signed in with a bright red pen, signing my life away on the dotted line that said " we are not responsible for any accidents or tragedies that may occur if you choose to date your match" Wait... did they do a background check on these guys? I mean, they didn't have to pay. Ugh. Give me my number already.
I made sure that while everybody was sticking post-its with their numbers on it that I didn't take a second to look around. I didn't want to see who I was going to be dating. Perhaps I feared I wouldn't find anyone attractive and my whole "speed dating" experience would go to shit before it even began. We were told to find our tables with our numbers on it and sit down. It was like a herd of pretty cattle roaming around trying to find a place to graze. Candles illuminated the room and they had Adele singing in the background. I like Adele. I like candles. Don't smell the candle, Megan.. don't.. smell the candle.
I found my number waiting for me on this little square table in the corner of the lounge. It was the perfect little nook to be in during an event such as this. My back was not facing anybody and I had a clear view of everybody. At least I was going to have a good idea of who was about to come to my table. I ran my fingers through my hair and applied another dab of lip gloss. I really wanted to spritz my new perfume on but I didn't want to be sitting in a cloud of smell good.
The rules were simple. Men rotate and women stay seated. I mean come on, if they were free why should they stay seated? Lets make them work alittle here!! We had three to eight minutes to talk to each dater and when we heard the bell, the men would rotate to the next table. Easy enough. DING!!!!!! Wait, I wasn't ready.
The first dater approached my table and introduced himself as Rufis. Like, the dog in Aristocrats? No, I didn't say that aloud but I did find myself thinking that. Then I thought to myself, are we allowed to give fake names? Oh stop it Megan, maybe that was is real name. Have some confidence. I suddenly felt like I was in a job interview except this time I was interviewing for a chance to find "the one". I will be the one asking the questions tonight. We began talking about our interests and what we do for a living. He was an franchise attorney and loved the show How I Met Your Mother. Handome. I would like to get to .....DING.....
The next guy that approached my table was a dentist from Killeen. With teeth so white, they almost looked blue. Cute but not my type. DING.. The next few guys gave me some good conversation and a couple of laughs here and there. I even met a guy who lives in the same apartment complex as I do. Freaky. I didn't mention I lived there too. Just in case. Not to mention I did sign my life away and and kissed my rights away to get justice if I am hurt in any way possible. The night was going great. Even though I hadn't found any matches, I was really enjoying getting to know different people. I had a good glass of wine and five to eight minutes of good company from some interesting people. DING... DING........DING......
I sat there wondering if I was going to find a match any time soon. I sipped my wine and responding to my friends morse code that she was sending me with the clicks of her pen. One click : NO WAY, two clicks: A match. I had alot of one clicks. As I was recording their information on this little chart, I hear this deep voice telling me his name. A hand slips under my face as if he was trying to get my attention. It was so hairy and his nails were filthy. I shook his hand as gently as I could trying NOT to get whatever was on the palm of his hands onto mine. I looked up and to my horror sat a man who resembled the BTK killer. If you are not familiar with the BTK killer, please google now. He was a notorious murderer in the 1970's and after a 30 year break, came back to kill again in the early 2000's. He had the same glasses, the same eyes and the same facial features. OMG... he looks like the BTK killer. Don't stare. Concentrate. Ask him questions. Ask... ask. now. Stop staring.
I knew that he probably wasn't anything like the BTK killer. However, my woman radar went off like crazy. Maybe it's because I just saw a documentary on the BTK killer a week before the speed date. He went on to tell me that he works in a lumber yard and rides his motorcycle cross country as a habit. I know this man is not a match so, why did the lady let this round go on for eight minutes? Awkard silence overcame the table. The flame to my candle flickered as if it was laughing at me. "So...tell me about yours".... DINNNNG!!! Oh thank goodness.
"LAST ROUND.. THIS IS THE LAST..ROUND".
A part of me wanted to shout out for joy, yet, the other half was disappointed that out of twenty two men, I did not mark one single "yes" on my match sheet. I'm not that picky anymore. However, It was like one big melting pot, filled with testosterone and smell goods. Many glossy lips left not so glossy. A few people stayed after to see if they can catch any leftover prey before walking into the darkness of their single lives. When you have loved before, it is hard to find someone who can one up that person.
I will totally speed date again. It was interesting and it sure was fun seeing just how different alot of men really are.
When I was walking out of the lounge and saw all the empty tables and bartender blowing out all the candles that so beautifully lit up the faces of men searching for love, I thought of a part from this song that fit so perfectfully with this puzzle of love.
So long my luckless romance, my back is turned to you. Should have known you'd bring me heartbreak. Almost lovers always do.
How to make speed dating just a little more sweeter? Cupcakes :P
Picture courtesy of Google pics
My colleague begged me for weeks to register for a speed dating night here in Austin. Speed dating?? Like, how they do it in the movies? Don't they usually end up going terrible wrong? After two weeks of sending me constant reminders and pokes through our school e-mail, I finally caved and agreed to try it " just this once". I mean, how bad can it be?
I took some time to review the website. I had to pay 35 dollars to register and get my number. However, there was only one problem, registration for men was free. What? Isn't it usally the other way around? This instantly gave me a bad vibe about the whole " speed dating" thing. My friend was super excited and wouldn't stop talking about it. I, on the other hand, was 35 dollars short with nothing to wear.
The day approached me way to fast. All these days I was thinking horribly very bad no good thoughts about this event and I found myself.......nervous. Butterflies swarmed my tummy and I spent the majority of my lunch break pondering on this one very important question: flip flops.... or heels? I took my lean cuisine and decided to see how my colleague was feeling about this silliness that was about to occur. I enter her room to find her sitting in front of her computer, trying to back out. WHAT? Oh.. hell...no. She did not spend weeks persuading me into this mess and here she is trying to get her money back? So, it was my turn to persuade. Well, actually it was more like a threat. It worked.
I went home and stood in my closet for about ten minutes. My pup sat next to me as if she was going too. I was asking her what she thinks I should wear, as if she was going to answer me. Is this what dating does to you? Talking to a dog that probably won't respond. Oh, I use "probably" because I swear Loela understands me and will one day respond to me. Ha. I pull out some "skinny" jeans and a tank top. I imagined myself tumbling across the lounge in my high heels so I decide to wear my flip flops. Besides, what if I need to make a run for it?
I painted my face pretty and gave my chocolate brown locks a curl. The butterflies went from fluttering to strait up disco dancing. Loela rested on my bed and watched me get ready. I was wanting to feel content like her. Thirty five dollars? Goodness. This better be ONE hell of a speed date. I glossed my kisser with my notorious chicka cherry glistener. I took one look at myself and took a deep breath. This should be interesting! I put all my girly necessities in my clutch and made my way downstairs. Kissed Loela goodbye and told her to wish me luck. I think I might have heard her actually say it. Haha.
Driving to the lounge seemed long. I don't know how I could have went from not caring about this event to being extrememly nervous. I felt like I was going up to bat in the 8th inning with two strikes and twenty to single successful men were watching, with their score sheets and mini pencils. Sign in was at 8:00 sharp. I was able to talk this guy whose parking lot was full to squeeze my truck somewhere close so I didn't have to walk and get all winded and stuff. I mean, they don't call them skinny jeans for nothing. The longer I stay stuffed in them, the more I can't breathe. Hmm, note to self: no more skinny jeans if... I'm not skinny?
I walk in the lounge to find my friend sipping on a Jack and Coke. Noone had a name tag on so I didn't know if the guys sitting next to me was a speed dater. We sat and chatted for about thirty minutes until we were called to circle up and get our numbers. That's right, we weren't going to be known for our names, but for our numbers. Like prison? Ugh, here we go. I signed in with a bright red pen, signing my life away on the dotted line that said " we are not responsible for any accidents or tragedies that may occur if you choose to date your match" Wait... did they do a background check on these guys? I mean, they didn't have to pay. Ugh. Give me my number already.
I made sure that while everybody was sticking post-its with their numbers on it that I didn't take a second to look around. I didn't want to see who I was going to be dating. Perhaps I feared I wouldn't find anyone attractive and my whole "speed dating" experience would go to shit before it even began. We were told to find our tables with our numbers on it and sit down. It was like a herd of pretty cattle roaming around trying to find a place to graze. Candles illuminated the room and they had Adele singing in the background. I like Adele. I like candles. Don't smell the candle, Megan.. don't.. smell the candle.
I found my number waiting for me on this little square table in the corner of the lounge. It was the perfect little nook to be in during an event such as this. My back was not facing anybody and I had a clear view of everybody. At least I was going to have a good idea of who was about to come to my table. I ran my fingers through my hair and applied another dab of lip gloss. I really wanted to spritz my new perfume on but I didn't want to be sitting in a cloud of smell good.
The rules were simple. Men rotate and women stay seated. I mean come on, if they were free why should they stay seated? Lets make them work alittle here!! We had three to eight minutes to talk to each dater and when we heard the bell, the men would rotate to the next table. Easy enough. DING!!!!!! Wait, I wasn't ready.
The first dater approached my table and introduced himself as Rufis. Like, the dog in Aristocrats? No, I didn't say that aloud but I did find myself thinking that. Then I thought to myself, are we allowed to give fake names? Oh stop it Megan, maybe that was is real name. Have some confidence. I suddenly felt like I was in a job interview except this time I was interviewing for a chance to find "the one". I will be the one asking the questions tonight. We began talking about our interests and what we do for a living. He was an franchise attorney and loved the show How I Met Your Mother. Handome. I would like to get to .....DING.....
The next guy that approached my table was a dentist from Killeen. With teeth so white, they almost looked blue. Cute but not my type. DING.. The next few guys gave me some good conversation and a couple of laughs here and there. I even met a guy who lives in the same apartment complex as I do. Freaky. I didn't mention I lived there too. Just in case. Not to mention I did sign my life away and and kissed my rights away to get justice if I am hurt in any way possible. The night was going great. Even though I hadn't found any matches, I was really enjoying getting to know different people. I had a good glass of wine and five to eight minutes of good company from some interesting people. DING... DING........DING......
I sat there wondering if I was going to find a match any time soon. I sipped my wine and responding to my friends morse code that she was sending me with the clicks of her pen. One click : NO WAY, two clicks: A match. I had alot of one clicks. As I was recording their information on this little chart, I hear this deep voice telling me his name. A hand slips under my face as if he was trying to get my attention. It was so hairy and his nails were filthy. I shook his hand as gently as I could trying NOT to get whatever was on the palm of his hands onto mine. I looked up and to my horror sat a man who resembled the BTK killer. If you are not familiar with the BTK killer, please google now. He was a notorious murderer in the 1970's and after a 30 year break, came back to kill again in the early 2000's. He had the same glasses, the same eyes and the same facial features. OMG... he looks like the BTK killer. Don't stare. Concentrate. Ask him questions. Ask... ask. now. Stop staring.
I knew that he probably wasn't anything like the BTK killer. However, my woman radar went off like crazy. Maybe it's because I just saw a documentary on the BTK killer a week before the speed date. He went on to tell me that he works in a lumber yard and rides his motorcycle cross country as a habit. I know this man is not a match so, why did the lady let this round go on for eight minutes? Awkard silence overcame the table. The flame to my candle flickered as if it was laughing at me. "So...tell me about yours".... DINNNNG!!! Oh thank goodness.
"LAST ROUND.. THIS IS THE LAST..ROUND".
A part of me wanted to shout out for joy, yet, the other half was disappointed that out of twenty two men, I did not mark one single "yes" on my match sheet. I'm not that picky anymore. However, It was like one big melting pot, filled with testosterone and smell goods. Many glossy lips left not so glossy. A few people stayed after to see if they can catch any leftover prey before walking into the darkness of their single lives. When you have loved before, it is hard to find someone who can one up that person.
I will totally speed date again. It was interesting and it sure was fun seeing just how different alot of men really are.
When I was walking out of the lounge and saw all the empty tables and bartender blowing out all the candles that so beautifully lit up the faces of men searching for love, I thought of a part from this song that fit so perfectfully with this puzzle of love.
So long my luckless romance, my back is turned to you. Should have known you'd bring me heartbreak. Almost lovers always do.
How to make speed dating just a little more sweeter? Cupcakes :P
Picture courtesy of Google pics
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Green Gumdrops
It was a windy day in Texas today. The kind of wind that kiss my cheeks, painting them a rosy residue. The kind of wind that gently curls the little wisps of hair that refuse to fit into my ponytail. The kind of wind that passes through my olfactory neurons and swirled up in my cerebrum generously giving me the sweet smell of mint. I don't smell the mint often, so when I do, it takes me to a time in my childhood that will forever bring joy to my soul.
I was seven years old when I visited my great grandmas house in Ohio. A small town named after a Revoluntionary War hero. When I say a small town, I mean one bank, a couple of schools, a grocery store and this little restaruant called Pauls Dine In. Pauls was one of my favorite places to eat. They had this sausage cheese burger that made glutony an understatement.
My great grandmas name was Golda. Her hair was a vintage cut, curly like wind blown ivory lillies. Freckles covered her shoulders, as if someone sprinkled brown sugar on them. Lips a ruby stain. She was my grandmothers mother.
She lived in a tiny house with a crickity screen door that she would leave open so she could hear me play outside. I could never get that screen door to shut. She had this special trick to close it. The furniture in her house was little. A little couch. Two little chairs. One little TV. The kitchen table that once sat in her dining room now sits in my mothers house, neatly polished. She had an old fashioned phone, cream colored that hung on the wall in the dining room. You know, the kind where you had to put your finger in that little spinner thing and spin each number? Yeah, that kind. She had a big back yard, filled with flowers of every color and smell. Sometimes I would find her planting in her garden, lost in flowery lyrics-her head draped in a red sun hat.
There are many memories I have of my great grandmother. However, one just really seems to stick out the most.
It was a warm summer morning when I awoke in the back bedroom of her house. A queen sized rod iron bed that caved in at the middle bid me good morrow as I pulled myself to sit up. My New Kids on the Block pajamas were wrinkled from the late night tossing and turning, not too mention they were getting a little too small. I don't remember going to sleep in that bed. I must have snuck in during the night. I remember being scared of going to bed alone in that back bedroom. I had a little twin size bed that I was tucked into every night but I was haunted by the dark closet with no door. My mind would play tricks on my eyes and I would sneak in the back bedroom where my grandmother slept. There was something about snuggling next to Sandra Ann that made everything scary disappear. Her perfume was my lullaby.
I planted my feet onto the cold old-fashioned hardwood floors. I stretched and admired the sun light that was shining in on me. I breathed in the sweetness that settled in that house. I could hear faint conversations in the kitchen and dishes being clanked together. I could smell coffee brewing and the morning paper was being read as the comics were being shuffled around. I walked down the long hallway and brushed my fingertips over the picture frames of old family members I never knew.
A picture of my mother hung slanted. I loved how I looked like her.
I made my way into the livingroom and saw my neighborhood friends playing on their kick and go's outside. If your not familiar with a kick and go, it's a little scooter with a pump on the back of it. That is how you built speed. My kick and go was in the basement. Scary basement. Where the washing machine rumbled and shook and where the coat hanger looked like a person looming in the shadows. My grandma must have heard me shuffling around because she shouted out a " good morning sugar". I made my way into the kitchen anticipating my morning hugs and kisses. My greatgrandmother would hold me and rock me to a silly song.
I remember going into her kitchen when a minty aroma embraced me. I loved it. I didn't know where it was coming from. It was so fresh, so spicy so... so.. MINTY!!! My curiosity spilled the beans that I was on the hunt for something sweet. My grandma opened her cabinet and pulled out a bag of green gumdrops-minty. They were these little green chewy candies showered with sparkly sugar and awesomeness. They made her house smell like a minty wonderland. They became my favorite thing to eat when I would visit. Perhaps it's because it triggered memories of that morning. I wanted each visit to be the same. I sure loved that house. I sure loved them.
I sure do love when the wind blows just right- because I think of something beautiful.
I was seven years old when I visited my great grandmas house in Ohio. A small town named after a Revoluntionary War hero. When I say a small town, I mean one bank, a couple of schools, a grocery store and this little restaruant called Pauls Dine In. Pauls was one of my favorite places to eat. They had this sausage cheese burger that made glutony an understatement.
My great grandmas name was Golda. Her hair was a vintage cut, curly like wind blown ivory lillies. Freckles covered her shoulders, as if someone sprinkled brown sugar on them. Lips a ruby stain. She was my grandmothers mother.
She lived in a tiny house with a crickity screen door that she would leave open so she could hear me play outside. I could never get that screen door to shut. She had this special trick to close it. The furniture in her house was little. A little couch. Two little chairs. One little TV. The kitchen table that once sat in her dining room now sits in my mothers house, neatly polished. She had an old fashioned phone, cream colored that hung on the wall in the dining room. You know, the kind where you had to put your finger in that little spinner thing and spin each number? Yeah, that kind. She had a big back yard, filled with flowers of every color and smell. Sometimes I would find her planting in her garden, lost in flowery lyrics-her head draped in a red sun hat.
There are many memories I have of my great grandmother. However, one just really seems to stick out the most.
It was a warm summer morning when I awoke in the back bedroom of her house. A queen sized rod iron bed that caved in at the middle bid me good morrow as I pulled myself to sit up. My New Kids on the Block pajamas were wrinkled from the late night tossing and turning, not too mention they were getting a little too small. I don't remember going to sleep in that bed. I must have snuck in during the night. I remember being scared of going to bed alone in that back bedroom. I had a little twin size bed that I was tucked into every night but I was haunted by the dark closet with no door. My mind would play tricks on my eyes and I would sneak in the back bedroom where my grandmother slept. There was something about snuggling next to Sandra Ann that made everything scary disappear. Her perfume was my lullaby.
I planted my feet onto the cold old-fashioned hardwood floors. I stretched and admired the sun light that was shining in on me. I breathed in the sweetness that settled in that house. I could hear faint conversations in the kitchen and dishes being clanked together. I could smell coffee brewing and the morning paper was being read as the comics were being shuffled around. I walked down the long hallway and brushed my fingertips over the picture frames of old family members I never knew.
A picture of my mother hung slanted. I loved how I looked like her.
I made my way into the livingroom and saw my neighborhood friends playing on their kick and go's outside. If your not familiar with a kick and go, it's a little scooter with a pump on the back of it. That is how you built speed. My kick and go was in the basement. Scary basement. Where the washing machine rumbled and shook and where the coat hanger looked like a person looming in the shadows. My grandma must have heard me shuffling around because she shouted out a " good morning sugar". I made my way into the kitchen anticipating my morning hugs and kisses. My greatgrandmother would hold me and rock me to a silly song.
I remember going into her kitchen when a minty aroma embraced me. I loved it. I didn't know where it was coming from. It was so fresh, so spicy so... so.. MINTY!!! My curiosity spilled the beans that I was on the hunt for something sweet. My grandma opened her cabinet and pulled out a bag of green gumdrops-minty. They were these little green chewy candies showered with sparkly sugar and awesomeness. They made her house smell like a minty wonderland. They became my favorite thing to eat when I would visit. Perhaps it's because it triggered memories of that morning. I wanted each visit to be the same. I sure loved that house. I sure loved them.
I sure do love when the wind blows just right- because I think of something beautiful.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
I Wish I Could
Dear angry parent,
I can't part the rolling tides of the ocean.
I wish I could.
I can't hang the moon slightly more to the left.
I wish I could.
I can't tell the sun to chill out.
I wish I could.
I can't give each star that shines a name.
I wish I could.
I can't find the end of a rainbow
I wish I could.
I can't make the wind speak each time it blows.
I wish I could.
I can't spin planet earth on my finger tips to pass the time, when time gets tough.
I wish I could
I can't make the rain wash your sorrows away.
I wish I could.
I can't drive into the sunset.. literally.
I wish I could.
I can't find the cow that jumped over the moon.
I wish I could.
I can't see through rose colored glasses.
I wish I could
I can't make the sound of silence .. be silent.
I wish I could.
I can't help not to giggle when you lie so bad you start to shake.
I wish I could.
I can teach and I can love.
But I can't change the world.
I wish I could.
The truth and a cupcake will set you free :)
I can't part the rolling tides of the ocean.
I wish I could.
I can't hang the moon slightly more to the left.
I wish I could.
I can't tell the sun to chill out.
I wish I could.
I can't give each star that shines a name.
I wish I could.
I can't find the end of a rainbow
I wish I could.
I can't make the wind speak each time it blows.
I wish I could.
I can't spin planet earth on my finger tips to pass the time, when time gets tough.
I wish I could
I can't make the rain wash your sorrows away.
I wish I could.
I can't drive into the sunset.. literally.
I wish I could.
I can't find the cow that jumped over the moon.
I wish I could.
I can't see through rose colored glasses.
I wish I could
I can't make the sound of silence .. be silent.
I wish I could.
I can't help not to giggle when you lie so bad you start to shake.
I wish I could.
I can teach and I can love.
But I can't change the world.
I wish I could.
The truth and a cupcake will set you free :)
Monday, February 7, 2011
And the World Turned
He was her almost lover.
- Gabe Dixon Band
Girl stood on the rocks with the water at her feet
the sun on her skin and a tear on her cheek
With her hand on her chest and the wind in her hair
Underneath her breath like a beggar's prayer ..
the sun on her skin and a tear on her cheek
With her hand on her chest and the wind in her hair
Underneath her breath like a beggar's prayer ..
she said
I miss you, come back to me
I wish you'd come back to me
But nobody heard
And the world turned and the world turned and the world turned
And thats when the girl reached in her pocket
pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket
Opened it up and stared for a while at her faded boy
with a lazy smile
I miss you, come back to me
I wish you'd come back to me
But nobody heard
And the world turned and the world turned and the world turned
And thats when the girl reached in her pocket
pulled out a silver heart-shaped locket
Opened it up and stared for a while at her faded boy
with a lazy smile
I miss you, come back to me
I wish you'd come back to me
But nobody heard
And the world turned and the world turned and the world turned
she tossed the locket
In the cool, blue, water
That night in her bed, she let herself weep
She let herself cry herself to sleep
And there in a dream somewhere in the night
Saw the boy and the locket by the riverside, saying
I miss you, come back to me
I wish you'd come back to me
But nobody heard
And the world turned and the world turned and the world turned
I wish you'd come back to me
But nobody heard
And the world turned and the world turned and the world turned
she tossed the locket
In the cool, blue, water
That night in her bed, she let herself weep
She let herself cry herself to sleep
And there in a dream somewhere in the night
Saw the boy and the locket by the riverside, saying
I miss you, come back to me
I wish you'd come back to me
But nobody heard
And the world turned and the world turned and the world turned
- Gabe Dixon Band
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Howl at the Moon
Except.... there was no moon.
I have finally potty trained my dog. After one year, three hundred potty pads and four bottles of carpet cleaners, I have my dog on a scheduled bathroom routine. First walk begins at 6:00am. It took me a whole year to fight the temptations of my snuggly bed to get my lazy ass up and walk my dog before work. Even my dog would rather settle for the potty pad instead of having to stretch her way from the warm abiss of my comfortor. This is the time she chooses to take the longest to do her business. She gets so distracted by smells and different noises. Right when she is about to assume the potty position, a leaf will fall from a tree or a bird will chirp and there she goes chasing after it. Ugh.
The day had finished and it was about 7:45pm. The sun had just finished bestowing it's pink and purple colors on the rolling hills of where I live. I took my dog to the usual spot where she likes to roam and run free. After being in the house all day, I imagine wanting to do the same thing. It was dark. I stood there, in my snuggly PJ's and flip flops in hopes of a successful potty routine but instead I found myself frozen, unable to move and fearing for... my dogs life.
Usually my dog isn't quiet during our walks or potty breaks. She likes to dig, scratch at the grass and yelp with joy. I happened to have my eyes fixed on this woman who was smoking three cigarettes at one time on her patio. I wasn't paying attention to my dog because I was in total shock of how this woman was relieving her stress. Three cigs? Really? I snapped out of my disgust when I realized I couldn't hear my dog. I turned to see her sitting at the bottom of the hill, sitting up strait, ears up and tail wagging. She was faintly growling and slightly wining. I thought maybe she had seen a rabbit or some kind of bug until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I felt my heart drop to my toes. Sweat flooded my hands. There stood a black coyote. Its tail was low and it had slowly lowered its body in the pounce position. I could see the green in its eyes from the reflections. It wasn't looking at me. It was looking at my dog.
All my energy had left my body. I had no voice to call for my dog. Snippets of scenarios played through my head like a slideshow. The coyote was concentrating on my dog, carefully studying her. I could hear it begin to growl. Usually my dog will see another dog or animal and make a run for it. She is super friendly and loves attention. She has no idea what fear is. I was waiting for her to jump at it as if she wanted to let it know she wanted to play. Her tail was still wagging. However, she wasn't moving. She wouldn't move. I softly snapped my fingers in hopes to get her attention. She wouldn't look at me. They were playing the staring game. It was almost as if my dog was saying " I dare you" to this hideous creature lurking in the bushes.
I jingled her leash lightly and it seemed to get her attention. She looked at me and then stood up. Then the coyote stood up. I knew this was it. It was either going to be my dog, or me. I stood there in total shock thinking of ways to get rid of this coyote. I thought about all the shows I have seen about suriving wild animal attacks- pfft yeah, all that went out the window real fast. Once fear sinks in to your blood, it pretty much takes over. I was alone out there. If I screamed, I would only scare it and then we would both be dinner. All I could do was watch. I was begging God to get this animal away from us.
There was a wrestling in the bushes a few minutes after the stare down. I thought it was a pack of them, coming to finish us. Thankfully, it was a small dear coming out for a little salt lick. My dog saw the deer and made a run for it. The only thing I could do was scream NO, NO. I immediately looked over at the coyote and it was gone. The deer must have scared it away. Either that or it was coming for the deer later for ruining a perfect dinner. I ran over to my dog, scooped her up and took her inside. A phone call to my mother and few glasses of wine later I was feeling better. What seemed like an hour was only about two minutes. Fear has no time. I do believe I had my angels there with me that night. I We were protected and I'm thankful. Some people aren't so lucky.
Since then, we have found a safe place for us to run wild and free. I also carry a really big, sharpened stick. Will I know what to do with it if we are face to face with a wild animal again? Probable not. You never know.
Words of wisdom- never let a person smoking three cigarettes at one time distract you from a seriously dangerous situation!!!
I have finally potty trained my dog. After one year, three hundred potty pads and four bottles of carpet cleaners, I have my dog on a scheduled bathroom routine. First walk begins at 6:00am. It took me a whole year to fight the temptations of my snuggly bed to get my lazy ass up and walk my dog before work. Even my dog would rather settle for the potty pad instead of having to stretch her way from the warm abiss of my comfortor. This is the time she chooses to take the longest to do her business. She gets so distracted by smells and different noises. Right when she is about to assume the potty position, a leaf will fall from a tree or a bird will chirp and there she goes chasing after it. Ugh.
The day had finished and it was about 7:45pm. The sun had just finished bestowing it's pink and purple colors on the rolling hills of where I live. I took my dog to the usual spot where she likes to roam and run free. After being in the house all day, I imagine wanting to do the same thing. It was dark. I stood there, in my snuggly PJ's and flip flops in hopes of a successful potty routine but instead I found myself frozen, unable to move and fearing for... my dogs life.
Usually my dog isn't quiet during our walks or potty breaks. She likes to dig, scratch at the grass and yelp with joy. I happened to have my eyes fixed on this woman who was smoking three cigarettes at one time on her patio. I wasn't paying attention to my dog because I was in total shock of how this woman was relieving her stress. Three cigs? Really? I snapped out of my disgust when I realized I couldn't hear my dog. I turned to see her sitting at the bottom of the hill, sitting up strait, ears up and tail wagging. She was faintly growling and slightly wining. I thought maybe she had seen a rabbit or some kind of bug until my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I felt my heart drop to my toes. Sweat flooded my hands. There stood a black coyote. Its tail was low and it had slowly lowered its body in the pounce position. I could see the green in its eyes from the reflections. It wasn't looking at me. It was looking at my dog.
All my energy had left my body. I had no voice to call for my dog. Snippets of scenarios played through my head like a slideshow. The coyote was concentrating on my dog, carefully studying her. I could hear it begin to growl. Usually my dog will see another dog or animal and make a run for it. She is super friendly and loves attention. She has no idea what fear is. I was waiting for her to jump at it as if she wanted to let it know she wanted to play. Her tail was still wagging. However, she wasn't moving. She wouldn't move. I softly snapped my fingers in hopes to get her attention. She wouldn't look at me. They were playing the staring game. It was almost as if my dog was saying " I dare you" to this hideous creature lurking in the bushes.
I jingled her leash lightly and it seemed to get her attention. She looked at me and then stood up. Then the coyote stood up. I knew this was it. It was either going to be my dog, or me. I stood there in total shock thinking of ways to get rid of this coyote. I thought about all the shows I have seen about suriving wild animal attacks- pfft yeah, all that went out the window real fast. Once fear sinks in to your blood, it pretty much takes over. I was alone out there. If I screamed, I would only scare it and then we would both be dinner. All I could do was watch. I was begging God to get this animal away from us.
There was a wrestling in the bushes a few minutes after the stare down. I thought it was a pack of them, coming to finish us. Thankfully, it was a small dear coming out for a little salt lick. My dog saw the deer and made a run for it. The only thing I could do was scream NO, NO. I immediately looked over at the coyote and it was gone. The deer must have scared it away. Either that or it was coming for the deer later for ruining a perfect dinner. I ran over to my dog, scooped her up and took her inside. A phone call to my mother and few glasses of wine later I was feeling better. What seemed like an hour was only about two minutes. Fear has no time. I do believe I had my angels there with me that night. I We were protected and I'm thankful. Some people aren't so lucky.
Since then, we have found a safe place for us to run wild and free. I also carry a really big, sharpened stick. Will I know what to do with it if we are face to face with a wild animal again? Probable not. You never know.
Words of wisdom- never let a person smoking three cigarettes at one time distract you from a seriously dangerous situation!!!
Out of the Mouths of Babes II
think each week I will post some of my favorite blurbs my students say to me. Each day I throw myself back and laugh at some of the things that come out of their mouths. I have one student who just floors me everytime. I told him that he was going to be responsible for my best seller book of all the funny things he says to me. He replied, " and I shall be your number one book buyer".
Enjoy.
" It sure does smell good in here. I think it's our teacher, always smelling like a cotton candy stand at a candy carnival"
" I watch Fox News, that's how I know it's winter"
" Why does my dad always curse at the gas pump?"
" So, since we are learning about dinosaurs, does that mean your our prey?"
" When I grow up, I want to be one of those people who always show their butt crack".
" I'm the only one in my family that snores. I think its because I'm black".
" Shhhhh guys, the reason why Miss T is standing there like that with a T-Rex face is because we are wasting her time".
" Miss T, why do you sound like you have plugs up your nose? Are you sick? When my mom is sick, she says she's invisible and we can't see her".
" Not lacing again. This really creates havoc on my joints"
" Yes!! I love creating patterns. Miss T, your freckles make patterns"
"My dad ate my ice cream cone yesterday. He told me it was poisonous".
"Whoa, dinosaur eggs are so big. Thats like... a year of scrambled eggs every morning".
" I need some hand scantipizer"
" Mom was right, I shouldn't have eatin that chili last night".
"When's lunch"
" Are we having spanish again today? If so, can you tell the teacher NOT to speak in tongues this time?"
" I think I just heard someone say shit. My dad says shit is a grown up word. Shit, I said it again".
" A dinosaur is a domestic animal in my eyes. I can take of one. Duh"
" um, is this real meat?"
More to come. Out of the Mouths of Babes. Gotta cherish this.
Enjoy.
" It sure does smell good in here. I think it's our teacher, always smelling like a cotton candy stand at a candy carnival"
" I watch Fox News, that's how I know it's winter"
" Why does my dad always curse at the gas pump?"
" So, since we are learning about dinosaurs, does that mean your our prey?"
" When I grow up, I want to be one of those people who always show their butt crack".
" I'm the only one in my family that snores. I think its because I'm black".
" Shhhhh guys, the reason why Miss T is standing there like that with a T-Rex face is because we are wasting her time".
" Miss T, why do you sound like you have plugs up your nose? Are you sick? When my mom is sick, she says she's invisible and we can't see her".
" Not lacing again. This really creates havoc on my joints"
" Yes!! I love creating patterns. Miss T, your freckles make patterns"
"My dad ate my ice cream cone yesterday. He told me it was poisonous".
"Whoa, dinosaur eggs are so big. Thats like... a year of scrambled eggs every morning".
" I need some hand scantipizer"
" Mom was right, I shouldn't have eatin that chili last night".
"When's lunch"
" Are we having spanish again today? If so, can you tell the teacher NOT to speak in tongues this time?"
" I think I just heard someone say shit. My dad says shit is a grown up word. Shit, I said it again".
" A dinosaur is a domestic animal in my eyes. I can take of one. Duh"
" um, is this real meat?"
More to come. Out of the Mouths of Babes. Gotta cherish this.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Dear Rick Perry
Governor Perry,
I am a teacher for a school located in the heart of Austin Texas. Before you disregard this letter, I would like to send my appreciations for taking time to review my issue. Fortunately, I have not been cut or laid off. However, many of my colleagues have been or are about to be. Please read this respectfully and with dignity.
I am under the impression that you are convinced that education is the most important investment a state can make in its people. Am I correct when I say that your goal is to ensure that Texas institutions of higher education are providing students the best chance at a better life? What about when you mentioned the importance of focusing on the core themes of accountability, affordability, and accessibility? I believed that you were for higher education and encouraging educators in preparing our learners for entry into our booming state economy. We took your sugar coated words and took our passions into the classroom with a promise that teachers would be safe from the chopping block. I fear that you are not understanding the uncomfortable impact you are putting on Texas educators. What you are failing to realize, is that our students are the ones in danger. No teachers.... no education.
Along with many educators, I am concerned with the sudden budget cuts and losses in our districts. There are great educators walking on eggshells to keep their jobs as leaders of our great future leaders. Teachers are being laid off due to low budgets and not enough money. As teachers and as a community of educators, we want to believe that our institutions money is being used in a responsible manner by our boards and city leaders. We are wondering where this money is going. Governor Perry, do you realize the more teachers that are cut, the less we remain a village of teachers and the less we are able to change the lives of our students. Where are you when they are standing outside of a school where to doors will soon be locked forever?
You have children of your own who probably had great teachers.
I am disappointed with your choices as you failed to provide adequate assurances that the money for our institutions would be used properly.
This is not hate mail and I write you in all respect. On behalf of Austin ISD and all schools in Austin, including Charter Institutions, we ask that you help us get our jobs back and allow us to lead and influence. Do not let fiscal issues be the reason for closed institutions and less educators. We voted for you and we believed that you would support us all the way. This generation needs us. Greatly. We know what you can do for us. We know how you can help us.
Remember this when you lay your head down at night: without teachers, there is no future.
Thank you.
Ugh, why can't we pay our schools with cupcakes? Then we wouldn't have to cut anybody. Is the education system becoming... not so sweet??
Picture courtesy Google Pics - The OC.News
I am a teacher for a school located in the heart of Austin Texas. Before you disregard this letter, I would like to send my appreciations for taking time to review my issue. Fortunately, I have not been cut or laid off. However, many of my colleagues have been or are about to be. Please read this respectfully and with dignity.
I am under the impression that you are convinced that education is the most important investment a state can make in its people. Am I correct when I say that your goal is to ensure that Texas institutions of higher education are providing students the best chance at a better life? What about when you mentioned the importance of focusing on the core themes of accountability, affordability, and accessibility? I believed that you were for higher education and encouraging educators in preparing our learners for entry into our booming state economy. We took your sugar coated words and took our passions into the classroom with a promise that teachers would be safe from the chopping block. I fear that you are not understanding the uncomfortable impact you are putting on Texas educators. What you are failing to realize, is that our students are the ones in danger. No teachers.... no education.
Along with many educators, I am concerned with the sudden budget cuts and losses in our districts. There are great educators walking on eggshells to keep their jobs as leaders of our great future leaders. Teachers are being laid off due to low budgets and not enough money. As teachers and as a community of educators, we want to believe that our institutions money is being used in a responsible manner by our boards and city leaders. We are wondering where this money is going. Governor Perry, do you realize the more teachers that are cut, the less we remain a village of teachers and the less we are able to change the lives of our students. Where are you when they are standing outside of a school where to doors will soon be locked forever?
You have children of your own who probably had great teachers.
I am disappointed with your choices as you failed to provide adequate assurances that the money for our institutions would be used properly.
This is not hate mail and I write you in all respect. On behalf of Austin ISD and all schools in Austin, including Charter Institutions, we ask that you help us get our jobs back and allow us to lead and influence. Do not let fiscal issues be the reason for closed institutions and less educators. We voted for you and we believed that you would support us all the way. This generation needs us. Greatly. We know what you can do for us. We know how you can help us.
Remember this when you lay your head down at night: without teachers, there is no future.
Thank you.
Ugh, why can't we pay our schools with cupcakes? Then we wouldn't have to cut anybody. Is the education system becoming... not so sweet??
Picture courtesy Google Pics - The OC.News
Monday, January 24, 2011
Phone Check 1,2,3
We all do it... or do we all?
Today's generation has awakened the world of communication through cell phones, e-mail, and social networks. When it comes to dating, we have discovered avenues of convienent communication. That's right. Text messaging. Wikipedias definition of text messaging is this : The exchange of brief written messages between fixed-line phone or mobile phone and fixed or portable devices over a network. Our definition might be: The simple, easy way to say hello without speaking over someone, being disconnected, repeating ones self and filling long pauses with inappropriate laughter. No?
The dating world is dangerously, intensely, fiercely interesting. We keep our phones close to our bodies and our inboxes clear of anything that might interfere with a message from our knights and damsels. God forbid your cell phone be set to vibrate. A strange occurance of phantom vibrations excite us for a moment, until realizing it was nothing. Nobody. Just a screen with today's date and time. We experince selective hearing-as if every phone that rings, beeps, chirps or plays a funky fresh Vanilla Ice song has to be, must be, should be ours.
I have a friend that I have known since college. She sat next to me in my Learn, Play and Creativity class. She had me at " I'm going to Sonic, want a Dr. Pepper?" She's a brown-eyed, cuss like a sailor, skeet shootin, deer huntin, coyote skinnin, belt buckle wearin cowgirl that would bring Billy the Kid to his knees. Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of spending the day with my long lost friend. We both became teachers shortly after we graduated college. We went our seperate ways and we lost touch for about a year. However, when we both understood how to navigate Facebook, we were virtually and happily reunited.
We began our "girls day" adventure devouring thick, mouthwatering, drool inducing juicy cheeseburgers. Yes, drool inducing. Yes, juicy. We had good discussion, swapping classroom horror stories and boasting about our student's accomplishments and accolades. However, we seemed to be interrupted by her touch screen companion. No, it wasn't ringing or buzzing or vibrating or.. even lighting up. Stroking her finger across the screen lead her to "no new message" and "no new calls" boulevard.
I couldn't help notice how many times she was checking her phone. My phone was buried deep down in the abyss of my purse, accidently turned off by my lipgloss case or was probably being punctured by my fifty "Teachers Change Lives" pens. I already knew. She was seeing someone. This "someone" hadn't been brought up yet. So, I did the inexorable. I asked her who "he" was. She looked at me with a confused, I totally don't want to talk about it kind of look. She shook her head and said it was nobody.
Yeah. Right.
After twisting her arm to dish me the juice, she went on to tell me about a guy she has been talking to. She met him a few weeks back and after two dates, his communication skills have, well, not been so hot. Mind you, she was still checking her phone as she leaked her soul about this Mr. Nobody that meant something to somebody-her. After listening to her woes about him not calling or texting, I responded with what I thought any other friend would say " so, why don't you text him??". I thought her ranch dressing was going to boil over from her reaction. " I'm not texting him. Nooo way. I will seem desperate and needy. Nope. No.
I listened to her go on and on about how we are not to chase men. No matter how bad we wanted to hear their voices, we must be strong and hold out for the first text or phone call of the day. She blurted out theories, quotes from books and her own philosophy about men and their relationship skills. I sat there, sipping my Boston Iced Tea and wishing I had a fresh side of sour cream for my potato skins.
I was listening and cringing at the thought that some women think we shouldn't have a voice in the dating world, that we should sit back and wait for the man to make the first move, to say the first words and to decide when it's best to talk. I was hoping she wouldn't ask for my opinion. Then it happened. Taking the last bite of her burger and wiping her fingers with a wetnap she asked: "Well, tell me what you think. Whats your advice?"
Deep breath.
This reminded me of a Sex and the City episode where Carrie said "When men attempt bold gestures, generally it's considered romantic. When women do it, it's often considered desperate of psycho." Good thing Carrie was a woman who threw that theory out the window once she met Mr. Big. Taking risks is like walking on eggshells in the dating world. A few years back I read this book called "The Rules". I believed it. I stuck to the rules when I was dating. However, I realized that I have been betrayed by the philosophy of another woman who believed dating is just a game to be played only by women, where the men start off with a losing streak, having to work their way up to a win, meaning, our hearts. Although I believed she may have had good intensions in some areas, I wanted to call. I wanted to text. I wanted to set up dates and see the persone I was dating. I wanted a voice.
I say screw the rules. Call him, text him, let him know your still there and your on the prowl. If he doesn't respond, don't go running to your "He's Just Not That In To You" book and find the reason of this tragedy that best "fits" you. There's nothing wrong with YOU. Snap on your batgirl belt with new tools and a fresh coat of lipgloss and move on. She asked me today why men are idiots. I thought for a moment, and giggled to myself. I don't believe men are idiots, or dogs, or from mars. Men are amazing creatures. However, they have been known to lack in the love factory. But so have we. Our problem is, we might be spending our time worrying too much about whose has what role in the relationship.
All of these thoughts consume us that we forget to love at all. We all like to think we are in control when dating. It's okay to be in control as long as we are not abusing it. Lets be real for a minute, sures ome men like a chase and some men like to be chased. To each their own right? If your into that kind of dating. As women stop wasting their valuable, beautiful time with "the rules" and dirty games, men are still in the background waiting for a text, waiting for a next move. Did we ever stop to think that maybe men feel the same way? Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not giving men all the credit. However, we have to be fair. Sure, some men are just plain jerks but, feed them to the wolves- a pack of women who follow "the rules", where love is nowhere to be found.
When we step it up a notch, men take to it. A women's intiminations and ndependence are thriving in the dating world today. Woman are the recipe of love, men are yummy ingredients. Have a voice. It's beautiful.
Be a lioness.... and eat a cupcake :)
Today's generation has awakened the world of communication through cell phones, e-mail, and social networks. When it comes to dating, we have discovered avenues of convienent communication. That's right. Text messaging. Wikipedias definition of text messaging is this : The exchange of brief written messages between fixed-line phone or mobile phone and fixed or portable devices over a network. Our definition might be: The simple, easy way to say hello without speaking over someone, being disconnected, repeating ones self and filling long pauses with inappropriate laughter. No?
The dating world is dangerously, intensely, fiercely interesting. We keep our phones close to our bodies and our inboxes clear of anything that might interfere with a message from our knights and damsels. God forbid your cell phone be set to vibrate. A strange occurance of phantom vibrations excite us for a moment, until realizing it was nothing. Nobody. Just a screen with today's date and time. We experince selective hearing-as if every phone that rings, beeps, chirps or plays a funky fresh Vanilla Ice song has to be, must be, should be ours.
I have a friend that I have known since college. She sat next to me in my Learn, Play and Creativity class. She had me at " I'm going to Sonic, want a Dr. Pepper?" She's a brown-eyed, cuss like a sailor, skeet shootin, deer huntin, coyote skinnin, belt buckle wearin cowgirl that would bring Billy the Kid to his knees. Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of spending the day with my long lost friend. We both became teachers shortly after we graduated college. We went our seperate ways and we lost touch for about a year. However, when we both understood how to navigate Facebook, we were virtually and happily reunited.
We began our "girls day" adventure devouring thick, mouthwatering, drool inducing juicy cheeseburgers. Yes, drool inducing. Yes, juicy. We had good discussion, swapping classroom horror stories and boasting about our student's accomplishments and accolades. However, we seemed to be interrupted by her touch screen companion. No, it wasn't ringing or buzzing or vibrating or.. even lighting up. Stroking her finger across the screen lead her to "no new message" and "no new calls" boulevard.
I couldn't help notice how many times she was checking her phone. My phone was buried deep down in the abyss of my purse, accidently turned off by my lipgloss case or was probably being punctured by my fifty "Teachers Change Lives" pens. I already knew. She was seeing someone. This "someone" hadn't been brought up yet. So, I did the inexorable. I asked her who "he" was. She looked at me with a confused, I totally don't want to talk about it kind of look. She shook her head and said it was nobody.
Yeah. Right.
After twisting her arm to dish me the juice, she went on to tell me about a guy she has been talking to. She met him a few weeks back and after two dates, his communication skills have, well, not been so hot. Mind you, she was still checking her phone as she leaked her soul about this Mr. Nobody that meant something to somebody-her. After listening to her woes about him not calling or texting, I responded with what I thought any other friend would say " so, why don't you text him??". I thought her ranch dressing was going to boil over from her reaction. " I'm not texting him. Nooo way. I will seem desperate and needy. Nope. No.
I listened to her go on and on about how we are not to chase men. No matter how bad we wanted to hear their voices, we must be strong and hold out for the first text or phone call of the day. She blurted out theories, quotes from books and her own philosophy about men and their relationship skills. I sat there, sipping my Boston Iced Tea and wishing I had a fresh side of sour cream for my potato skins.
I was listening and cringing at the thought that some women think we shouldn't have a voice in the dating world, that we should sit back and wait for the man to make the first move, to say the first words and to decide when it's best to talk. I was hoping she wouldn't ask for my opinion. Then it happened. Taking the last bite of her burger and wiping her fingers with a wetnap she asked: "Well, tell me what you think. Whats your advice?"
Deep breath.
This reminded me of a Sex and the City episode where Carrie said "When men attempt bold gestures, generally it's considered romantic. When women do it, it's often considered desperate of psycho." Good thing Carrie was a woman who threw that theory out the window once she met Mr. Big. Taking risks is like walking on eggshells in the dating world. A few years back I read this book called "The Rules". I believed it. I stuck to the rules when I was dating. However, I realized that I have been betrayed by the philosophy of another woman who believed dating is just a game to be played only by women, where the men start off with a losing streak, having to work their way up to a win, meaning, our hearts. Although I believed she may have had good intensions in some areas, I wanted to call. I wanted to text. I wanted to set up dates and see the persone I was dating. I wanted a voice.
I say screw the rules. Call him, text him, let him know your still there and your on the prowl. If he doesn't respond, don't go running to your "He's Just Not That In To You" book and find the reason of this tragedy that best "fits" you. There's nothing wrong with YOU. Snap on your batgirl belt with new tools and a fresh coat of lipgloss and move on. She asked me today why men are idiots. I thought for a moment, and giggled to myself. I don't believe men are idiots, or dogs, or from mars. Men are amazing creatures. However, they have been known to lack in the love factory. But so have we. Our problem is, we might be spending our time worrying too much about whose has what role in the relationship.
All of these thoughts consume us that we forget to love at all. We all like to think we are in control when dating. It's okay to be in control as long as we are not abusing it. Lets be real for a minute, sures ome men like a chase and some men like to be chased. To each their own right? If your into that kind of dating. As women stop wasting their valuable, beautiful time with "the rules" and dirty games, men are still in the background waiting for a text, waiting for a next move. Did we ever stop to think that maybe men feel the same way? Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not giving men all the credit. However, we have to be fair. Sure, some men are just plain jerks but, feed them to the wolves- a pack of women who follow "the rules", where love is nowhere to be found.
When we step it up a notch, men take to it. A women's intiminations and ndependence are thriving in the dating world today. Woman are the recipe of love, men are yummy ingredients. Have a voice. It's beautiful.
Be a lioness.... and eat a cupcake :)
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Out of the Mouths of Babes
Being a teacher is amazing. Humbling. Testing. Lovely. Each day I hear the funniest, craziest, weirdest, preposterous, creative words come out of my student's mouths. They say it with such emphasis, drama, all seriousness and joking. It means something. They make statements and demand feedback on how well they are doing on the art project of the day. I am required to understand everything that pours from their ingenious souls. I love it.
In the teaching field, each educator has their own apple tree. A tree so rich with knowledge and imagination. A tree that stands tall and strong. A tree that is strung with little minds ready to be shaken. My tree always has the sweetest apples.
Here are some of my favorite things that my student's have said. Enjoy.
" Miss Thompson, when are you gonna get rid of those humungous balloons in your shirt?"
" I can't say excuse me, if I farted on purpose"
Boy student talking to girl student- " Hey suga, why don't you plop that goodness here beside me, I'm a hero".
" I saw God today. He was wearing yellow and He sang me a song"
" We can't play superhero today because my mom is washing my superhero suit"
" Miss Thompson, are those OUR snacks your eating"?
" I will help you find a man so he can help you put that black stuff on your lashes and buy you pretty pens for your ponytails"
" Your a super freak, super freak... your super....... wait... what's the rest of the song Miss Thompson"
" Why does everyone keep saying Miss Mary Mack wore black, was she going to a funeral or somethin?"
" A shark is a domestic animal because it can live in your house and sleep in your bed. They won't bite you, if you feed them and use moisturizing cream on them before bedtime"
" I have a question.. where do babies ACTUALLY come from. My mom told me but, it just doesnt seem possible."
It's like, my days are full of cupcakes.
In the teaching field, each educator has their own apple tree. A tree so rich with knowledge and imagination. A tree that stands tall and strong. A tree that is strung with little minds ready to be shaken. My tree always has the sweetest apples.
Here are some of my favorite things that my student's have said. Enjoy.
" Miss Thompson, when are you gonna get rid of those humungous balloons in your shirt?"
" I can't say excuse me, if I farted on purpose"
Boy student talking to girl student- " Hey suga, why don't you plop that goodness here beside me, I'm a hero".
" I saw God today. He was wearing yellow and He sang me a song"
" We can't play superhero today because my mom is washing my superhero suit"
" Miss Thompson, are those OUR snacks your eating"?
" I will help you find a man so he can help you put that black stuff on your lashes and buy you pretty pens for your ponytails"
" Your a super freak, super freak... your super....... wait... what's the rest of the song Miss Thompson"
" Why does everyone keep saying Miss Mary Mack wore black, was she going to a funeral or somethin?"
" A shark is a domestic animal because it can live in your house and sleep in your bed. They won't bite you, if you feed them and use moisturizing cream on them before bedtime"
" I have a question.. where do babies ACTUALLY come from. My mom told me but, it just doesnt seem possible."
It's like, my days are full of cupcakes.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
My Angry Conversation With God Part One
Before I begin this mini series of my angry conversations with God, I wanted to let you know that I got the inspiration from the actual book My Angry Conversations With God. I would go in to detail about the book but I figured you could check it out yourself.
My responses were blurbs here and there during many nights of prayer. I used God's responses as if how I could imagine Him saying to me. He has brought me far and I wanted to share this with you (whoever is listening). I hope you enjoy.
When I was 12, I made the decision to become saved. My youth pastor assisted me down three slippery stairs and guided me towards the middle of the baptism tank. I remember looking down and seeing people looking up at me. I could see my mother and father sitting in the middle of the pews, anxiously awaiting my baptism. I wore a long white robe that covered my feet. The sleeves roofed my arms and hands. I covered my little nose with my little hand and was gently bent back into the water. It was a bit chilly but, my soul was cleansed.
I immediately began imagining all the angels celebrating in Heaven. I envisioned God using a pink glittery pen as He signed my name in the Book of Life. I wonder if He uses all capital letters when He writes people's names on those beautiful sheets of paper? I was covered by the blood. I was loved. I had my one-way, only way ticket to eternity.
Years past and I began to forget about God. I mean, I never forgot about Him, I would just put Him to the side whenever I needed Him. I was always the "backseat driver" in our relationship, never wanting to be patient or still. I thought if I took the wheel, I can steer my life in the direction I wanted it to go, where I thought it needed to go. God never argued with me. He would simply pull over, hop in the backseat and not say a word. He didn't have to say anything at all. I knew I would always steer us in the wrong direction. Without His guidance, my compass never worked. I was always lost. Always in the dark and always hitting really hard speedbumps. No wonder He would always buckle up.
Seasons came and went as I flourished into an adult. I finished college and went back and forth between hot and cold with my relationship with God. After I finished my certification, I was having trouble finding a teaching position. I would interview and interview and.. interview. Nothing. I didn't know what was going on. I was educated. My tests were taken and passed. I nailed all the questions. God, why am I not getting any calls??
Then one night, in the darkness of my one bedroom apartment, with the moon illuminating my room, He spoke back to me. It's like I could hear His voice. I wanted to record my prayers in a journal and I used God's responses of how I would hear Him if we were actually having a conversation. This was a season of struggle for me. A season I was not prepared for. This time, I wasn't driving. I was told to buckle up and to be still. Quietly and quickly.
Tuesday May 19, 2009
I'm sleepy tonight. I can't write when I'm sleepy. I can hardly finish a prayer. However, I hear that it brings God joy to know that you are praying in peace, resting in Him. I can't even think right now. Lately, I have felt drained from assiduous thoughts of getting this teaching job. Why can't I rest?
Me: Hello?? I'm talking to You up there.
God: I know. I have not forgotten about you. I want all of your trust and attention, not temporary trust and attention that I usually get from you.
Me: Sorry, I'm used to getting what I want, and fast.....wait, did You just speak to me??
God: Yes. I always speak to you. You just don't want to listen. I know you are restless. Megan, show me patience. You have asked me for it. Show me you trust me to follow through on the promises I have made for you.
Me: It's hard.
God: Being patient for you to come back to me was hard.
Me: Don't make me feel bad.
God: You don't like the truth, you never have.
Me: Depends. I guess.
God: What matters most, Megan, is that I love you and I am working hard behind this "window" you want
Me to open for you. JUST BE STILL.
Me: Why are you yelling at me?
God: I'm not. My voice is like thunder... remember?
Me: I see, now is not the time for jokes.
God: You are doing a good job of reading my love stories for you.
Me: Love stories? What?
God: Yes, Megan, love stories.. in the Bible?? Hellooooo?
Me: Ohh, yes. They are very comforting.
God: Which is why I say "Rest in Me". I know everything your heart desires. I know everything you need.
Me: But I can't get comfortable knowing that I may be stuck in this hole for the rest of my life.
God: ::sigh:: Here, I will open this wonderful window for you so that you may see what I am planning. Just a peek.
Me: No, I don't want "just a peek", but, that breeze does feel good. I haven't had a breath of fresh air in a long time.
God: Stop letting satan suffocate you. Remember, he fears Me and all you have to is call on me. Breathe. Go to bed. I will be up late planning great things for you.
Me: Alright. I'll leave the light on for You.
God: I am the light.
Me: Ok, show off. I .. I love you.
God: I love you too.
Me: Um, God?
God: Yes..
Me: Will tomorrow be the day? When I find out great things?
God: You see great things everyday. Just look for them. Listen for my voice.
Me: Ok.
God: Goodnight my love.
Me: Goodnight.
To be continued......
My responses were blurbs here and there during many nights of prayer. I used God's responses as if how I could imagine Him saying to me. He has brought me far and I wanted to share this with you (whoever is listening). I hope you enjoy.
When I was 12, I made the decision to become saved. My youth pastor assisted me down three slippery stairs and guided me towards the middle of the baptism tank. I remember looking down and seeing people looking up at me. I could see my mother and father sitting in the middle of the pews, anxiously awaiting my baptism. I wore a long white robe that covered my feet. The sleeves roofed my arms and hands. I covered my little nose with my little hand and was gently bent back into the water. It was a bit chilly but, my soul was cleansed.
I immediately began imagining all the angels celebrating in Heaven. I envisioned God using a pink glittery pen as He signed my name in the Book of Life. I wonder if He uses all capital letters when He writes people's names on those beautiful sheets of paper? I was covered by the blood. I was loved. I had my one-way, only way ticket to eternity.
Years past and I began to forget about God. I mean, I never forgot about Him, I would just put Him to the side whenever I needed Him. I was always the "backseat driver" in our relationship, never wanting to be patient or still. I thought if I took the wheel, I can steer my life in the direction I wanted it to go, where I thought it needed to go. God never argued with me. He would simply pull over, hop in the backseat and not say a word. He didn't have to say anything at all. I knew I would always steer us in the wrong direction. Without His guidance, my compass never worked. I was always lost. Always in the dark and always hitting really hard speedbumps. No wonder He would always buckle up.
Seasons came and went as I flourished into an adult. I finished college and went back and forth between hot and cold with my relationship with God. After I finished my certification, I was having trouble finding a teaching position. I would interview and interview and.. interview. Nothing. I didn't know what was going on. I was educated. My tests were taken and passed. I nailed all the questions. God, why am I not getting any calls??
Then one night, in the darkness of my one bedroom apartment, with the moon illuminating my room, He spoke back to me. It's like I could hear His voice. I wanted to record my prayers in a journal and I used God's responses of how I would hear Him if we were actually having a conversation. This was a season of struggle for me. A season I was not prepared for. This time, I wasn't driving. I was told to buckle up and to be still. Quietly and quickly.
Tuesday May 19, 2009
I'm sleepy tonight. I can't write when I'm sleepy. I can hardly finish a prayer. However, I hear that it brings God joy to know that you are praying in peace, resting in Him. I can't even think right now. Lately, I have felt drained from assiduous thoughts of getting this teaching job. Why can't I rest?
Me: Hello?? I'm talking to You up there.
God: I know. I have not forgotten about you. I want all of your trust and attention, not temporary trust and attention that I usually get from you.
Me: Sorry, I'm used to getting what I want, and fast.....wait, did You just speak to me??
God: Yes. I always speak to you. You just don't want to listen. I know you are restless. Megan, show me patience. You have asked me for it. Show me you trust me to follow through on the promises I have made for you.
Me: It's hard.
God: Being patient for you to come back to me was hard.
Me: Don't make me feel bad.
God: You don't like the truth, you never have.
Me: Depends. I guess.
God: What matters most, Megan, is that I love you and I am working hard behind this "window" you want
Me to open for you. JUST BE STILL.
Me: Why are you yelling at me?
God: I'm not. My voice is like thunder... remember?
Me: I see, now is not the time for jokes.
God: You are doing a good job of reading my love stories for you.
Me: Love stories? What?
God: Yes, Megan, love stories.. in the Bible?? Hellooooo?
Me: Ohh, yes. They are very comforting.
God: Which is why I say "Rest in Me". I know everything your heart desires. I know everything you need.
Me: But I can't get comfortable knowing that I may be stuck in this hole for the rest of my life.
God: ::sigh:: Here, I will open this wonderful window for you so that you may see what I am planning. Just a peek.
Me: No, I don't want "just a peek", but, that breeze does feel good. I haven't had a breath of fresh air in a long time.
God: Stop letting satan suffocate you. Remember, he fears Me and all you have to is call on me. Breathe. Go to bed. I will be up late planning great things for you.
Me: Alright. I'll leave the light on for You.
God: I am the light.
Me: Ok, show off. I .. I love you.
God: I love you too.
Me: Um, God?
God: Yes..
Me: Will tomorrow be the day? When I find out great things?
God: You see great things everyday. Just look for them. Listen for my voice.
Me: Ok.
God: Goodnight my love.
Me: Goodnight.
To be continued......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)