One Semester Down

So, I'm sitting here, bored out of my mind.

My students are finishing up their last exam and are as antsy as I am. Yesterday and today they have dealt with two-hour-long classes, a litany of "sshh"'s from teachers, and more bubble sheets than I care to remember. But if they make it through the next hour, and through tomorrow, then they are done with their first semester as sixth graders, as middle school students. Much like I will be done with my first semester of teaching them.

I survived. Sometimes I have thrived. But most of all, I do not want to quit (overall) and I like my job (most days).

The State of Education is such a discussed topic these days that I choose to capitalize the letters. Everyone seems to have an opinion on it. It's hard to get online without seeing a headline or some piece of data about the State of Education here in the United States. I could indeed choose to use this space to write my own piece about the State of Education, but instead I think I'll describe one of my favorite moments.

1) One day, the Boy Scouts came around to all of our classes to do a little demo to interest boys into joining the Scouts. The guy who came in my classroom was pretty engaging, talking about survival skills and lighting something small on fire. I just relaxed at my desk (for once) and let him talk for about fifteen minutes. The girls in my class all were disgusted that they were not the topic of this presentation, and most of the boys were genuinely curious. All except one, and that one happened to be the student who presented the most difficulties for me. His seat was in the desk nearly touching mine, because if he was anywhere else, he did nothing. I would have guessed that the fire and talk of camping would have intrigued him. When I quietly asked if he was interested in joining, he shook his head.

"Why not," I prompted.

His reply?

"Too much nature."

A Thing (amongst others)

I have a Thing for vampire books. You know what a Thing is - an indescribable draw to something that you are slightly ashamed of, but you can't seem to keep away from. I have a Thing for vampire books, and it's morphed slightly into anything "paranormal" (like those dumb ghost hunting shows). I wrote my senior thesis for my undergrad on the way vampire literature is used to view humanity using Dracula, 'Salem's Lot, Interview with the Vampire, and the Sookie Stackhouse novels. It was quite a bit of work, but I loved every second of it. To this day, it's still one of my favorite papers I have written.

At Munchkinland, one of the older kids was reading Blue Bloods. Considering the cover image was a neck with fang marks, I assumed it was a vampire book and asked about it. The kid said it was good, and I should check it out. I did. I'm now reading the third book. It's been about two weeks since she told me about it.

It's definitely an interesting take on vampires. Their background story, or legend, is that they are the angels that rebelled with Lucifer and were kicked out of the Kingdom of Heaven. They chose immortality to repent for their sins and hopefully one day be restored into the presence of the Kingdom. The Blue Bloods reincarnate -  their physical shell dies but their "blood" (and personality) live on to be implanted in another body later. The Blue Bloods are the cream of human society and take an interest in bettering the lives of the Red Bloods, or humans.

They are not violent creatures, shockingly. This is definitely a deviation from most "accepted" vampire lore. They take "human familiars" to supply them with blood, but the humans volunteer and are never killed. There is a strict Code that regulates the behavior of the Blue Bloods. Of course, they have a nemesis (how else would it be a book?). The Silver Bloods, including Lucifer, are the evil spirits who are not trying to regain entrance into Heaven. They kill Blue Bloods, gaining all the knowledge and memories of that specific immortal. They are considered Abomination with all that knowledge. Interestingly, Silver Bloods are blamed for the disappearance of the Roanoke colony (that is honestly the most intriguing part of the books - their take on American and world history).

The book is a guilty pleasure read for sure, but I can't seem to put them down. I am slightly ashamed whenever someone asks, "Whatcha reading?" But really, who doesn't have a Thing with some sort of slightly shameful genre?

Not-so-typical Tuesday

Several months ago, I bought a ticket to see Snow Patrol in their “Fallen Empires” tour. I saw the concert announcement in a local radio station's email. I set my heart to go. I love Snow Patrol, and their music is very dear to me. As the day for the ticket sales approached, I couldn't find anyone to go with me. Alas.

Or alas not. I could either say “man, guess I won't go,” or I could buy a single ticket and just go.

I bought a single ticket.

Weeks went by, and I pushed the concert back in my mind; it went behind school, the starting of movement classes at Franklin, the ending of winter guard at Brentwood, and work. The concert ticket was propped up on my end table next to my lamp, and I looked at it frequently. It seemed so far away – there was so much to do before.

But suddenly, winter guard ended, and school took a week break, and it was the Monday before the concert. Here's the thing – I'm not particularly outgoing. I probably have some sort of social anxiety disorder. I generally don't like doing things by myself. And there I was, set to drive downtown, park, find my seat, and (hopefully) enjoy a concert the next day. By myself.

The day of was a normal Tuesday; it was full of work. I ate dinner at home and watched the traffic, taking note of which way to go. Downtown was busy with the concert and a Predator's game, so people were everywhere – a blessing and a curse. I wasn't wandering around Nashville alone, but traffic was particularly bad. I drove and splurged on $10 parking right behind the venue.

I walked into the venue and relaxed a degree. I had made it inside. I had safely parked. I was in the Ryman Auditorium – arguably one of the most beautiful concert venues in the world. I trudged up the stairs, walking past signed posters from Hatch's Show Print autographed by famous (mostly) country stars. I walked around the top and found my section. I crept down the stairs hesitantly – there were already people sitting next to my empty seat. I walked up and tucked my purse under the pew, and the people sitting next to me turned.

“Oh hello!”

My night probably would have been not as enjoyable had I not been sitting next to the nicest couple in the Ryman that night. They were an older couple (mid 50s, probably) and had never been to Nashville. They bought tickets when they were available online and drove the 11 hours from their home state of Louisiana and decided to make a trip out of it. He was a technology consultant; she was a tutor and teacher (irony?!).

We talked about everything – music, Nashville, the flood that happened nearly two years ago, sports, education, technology news. But it was when the man left to get a beer did I ask the question whose response would endear them to me for the rest of the evening.

“How did you meet?”

She smiled and pulled her shoulders up a bit. And she told me their story. They had met in their late 20s while both were working on higher degrees. They married quickly and later had a son.

“We were married for eight years. Then we divorced. He remarried, had two other children with his other wife.”

The puzzlement must have shown on my face. They were sitting next to me, clearly together, yet she had just told me they had only been married eight years.

“Our son got sick about a year ago and had to go extensive abdomen surgery around Christmas. We got back together then. I said he remarried, but I just couldn't. He's been the one for me all these years - I couldn't imagine loving anybody else. So we've been together about four months now.”

The man returned, beer in one hand and a box of Junior Mints in the other that he handed to her.

“Funny how life is,” she said, before she turned and asked her husband about the lines at the concession stands.

We kept talking until the show started, but neither one brought up their story again.

The show was great. Ed Sheeran opened and did a poignant cover of “Poor Wayfaring Stranger” that was so haunting, the audience was totally still. Snow Patrol played a little bit of everything – old stuff, new, their big hits, quieter songs. They played nearly two hours.

I shook both their hands as the lights reappeared after a four song encore. I wished them safe travels and an enjoyable time in Nashville. I left the Ryman and walked back to my car, only making one wrong turn trying to find my car in the parking garage itself.

I drove home and kept the radio off, preferring the wind rushing through my cracked window. When I got home, I shut off the engine and sat in the driveway. I had seen a band I treasured. I had done it alone. I had met two random strangers who shared their lives with me momentarily. Somehow, a Tuesday night concert had restored my faith in strangers and myself.

Groundhog Day!

This will have very little to do with Groundhog Day, but since that day is today, I felt like marking its passage somehow. Apparently the groundhog saw his shadow, but I slept through the news coverage of it all. Such is Thursdays, one of the few days I get to sleep in.
But here are some Things I've Been Loving Lately:

1. THE WEATHER. We have somehow been blessed by the mildest winter (so far) that I can remember. There have been days of cold, but not the unbearable chill that seeps into the bones and you can't shake until you're home in sweatpants and with hot tea. And every time someone mentions how awesome the weather is, or how much they miss winter, I throw up the trusty Karma Kap and hope that nothing changes between now and April.

2. FITZ AND THE TANTRUMS This album is in my car, on my phone, and on my computer. It has been playing on repeat for the past two weeks. Their sound is unique, and I find it impossible to be in a bad mood when I'm bopping around my room (or car or back space at work) to their music.

3. THE PARIS WIFE This is next month's book club book, but I'm flying through it, often staying up entirely too late to read just one more page (or screen, since I'm a Kindle reader). I studied Hemingway intensely in my undergrad schooling, and I was familiar with his war background, but I never read anything about his writing life. This novel, written from the point of view of his first wife, captures a young Hemingway trying to break into the writing scene. Most of it is set in Paris, the creative capital of the early 1900s, and I've learned fascinating details about an artist trying to provide for his family.

4. BECOMING A TEACHER. There are so many distractions in the journey of becoming an educator. My classes have lots of work required, there's always the challenge of balancing time, and the talk of most teachers in the field currently is negative (Tennessee is currently employing a really restrictive teacher evaluation system). But I'm constantly reminded that all those things are just what I said - distractions. Ultimately I love children and spending time with them and that lightbulb face they show when they understand something. That is what I must remember as I make posters and type my notes to turn in as a grade for grad school. I have a passion, and while it's been quite a journey to realize that I'm called to be a teacher, I can't let the little things stand in the way.

So here's to a decent 2012 thus far!
 


All thoughts and opinions are my own and true to my experience.

Slowly slips the spring

So I thought the whole spring/early summer season was supposed to be beautiful, full of hope and joy before the heat of summer slowly sucked the life of everything. I feel like these past few months have been anything but.

Before I launch into writing something full of self-pity and stress, let me say this: these months had their highlights. I finished my first season of teaching winter guard, started my first season of teaching drum corps, and started the first season of Franklin where all the girls are my own. I think I have my future somewhat mapped out and planned. My family continues to let me bum off their financial stability and live under their roof. But like any rollercoaster (the perfect image for these past few months), amid the high points are the low.

And these low points seemed to sting for much longer than the euphoria of the high points. My grandfather passed away. I have mixed emotions on this. He was sick and miserable, and he had time to fully prepare to leave here. My mom had a wonderful few weeks with him. My garndmother seems to be doing okay. But last week, when my mom and I stopped by her (can't call it “their” any more) house to see how she was doing, I kept expecting him to appear as we sat in the living room. As I stretched out on the couch and we watched the Weather Channel, I wanted him to come in from doing something in the yard and ask for the control, because he was the master of the television. But he wasn't there. And he won't be there. But I know that he'd fuss at us for crying so much since he's gone now, because if anything he wants us to be happy and to laugh.

Also, the month of May is usually my favorite. For the past 17 years of my existence, it meant the end of a school year and the excitement of having time for myself. I usually set some lofty goal which I barely made progress on, but during May it seemed like hope floated on the thick, humid air. May was the end of the cool weather and the beginning of the heat, the time when the pool water finally warmed up enough to dive straight in. May was packing and getting things ready for drum corps. And while this prep for corps is the same, it's markedly different. I'm going to teach, not to perform. I have to pack nice clothes to wear at shows. I have to figure out what will wrinkle in my bag and what won't. I have to make arrangements to get home before Finals night. And for once in the 22 (almost 23) years of my existence, I don't have a lofty goal.

Maybe that is what is missing. Maybe I need to come up with something crazy that I can set all my sights on and forget the crazy rollercoaster of the past few months. Because if there is anything that all the past Mays have taught me, it's that summer never disappoints – it's always hot, I always sweat, I'm surrounded by people who have similar passions as me, and it always passes too quickly.

Life Lessons Through Work

I have been lucky enough to work enough part-time jobs recently to keep payments current on my giant student loans. My jobs have taught me a few things while I'm trying to figure out what I exactly want to do with my life, because I can't live on part-time jobs forever. So What I Have Learned:

1) From my internship-turned-part-time-low-paying, I am not a fan of the business world. I like schedules, having to-do lists, and other things that made me think I would enjoy a “desk job.” False. My boss has been nice enough to let me tag along to Chamber of Commerce meetings, press conferences, and the like. But I don't like it. I hate business dress – having to make sure my dress pants were hung up properly, making sure I have matching knee-high trouser socks, making sure my dark blue sweater really is dark blue and not black. I don't like passing out my business cards, networking, the like. It hit me at a Chamber of Commerce breakfast when a very nice man was talking about his passion for life insurance. I was inspired by his passion, but I really could care less about life insurance or him trying to sell me a policy. I just got the uneasy feeling that the business world was about constantly having to fake an interest in stuff that is really of no interest to you at all. No thank you.

2) From my paperwork and tutoring job at a local tutoring program chain, I have learned that I like kids. A lot. I have also learned that the atmosphere of your workplace can make your experience – or break it. Paperwork days are Tuesdays and Wednesdays, usually starting around 9:30. These days are usually a little mind-numbing. We record graded work, and then pull worksheets in a specific order for each kid, and then staple-tear-and-date each worksheet. Usually for two weeks worth. Yet these days have turned into some of my favorite. My boss ladies (two women who I have known for years since their kids went to elementary school with me) play classic rock radio, keep diet sodas stocked in the mini-fridge, and we talk. We've covered pretty much every topic, and I couldn't possibly outline all that I've learned. We also have sunshine breaks Days that could be boring are turned into days that I look forward to merely with some small details added to our workplace. Second, I really like working with the kids. Most are younger than the high-school age kids I work with, but for the most part they are cute, funny, and they try really hard. There are the difficult ones, but if you either make an effort to find some common ground or lay down the law immediately, they respect you and listen to you and try to do their work. During tutoring hours, it's the parents I can't stand. Some just let the kids do their thing and let us do our thing, and everything is golden. Some hover obnoxiously, asking if their kids are doing okay and pestering the kids when they work a little slow. But the helicopter parents aren't that bad either. It's the ones who either completely ignore their kids and don't care, or the ones who humiliate their kids during tutoring hours that disappoint me. Some parents bring their kids to us because “it's the right thing to do,” but they could really care less. They're more worried about the latest gossip and keeping up with appearances. And then there are some who openly criticize their kids, saying one is smarter than the other. Or, as I observed earlier this week, a father stormed in, told his kid he was taking way too long, criticized the amount of work the kid had done in a long period of time, and then pulled his kid out of room. What do you do about that? A few parents observed this, and when we made eye contact, the looks on our faces were similar – disgust at the father, sympathy for the kid.

So in all of this, I have come to one conclusion - I want to teach. I like kids, kids like me, and I think that I have knowledge I could pass on. But most of all, I think kids need someone to stick up for them when things aren't going too well, or when their parents say that their the slow one out of the family. I am in the process of getting info for post-degree teacher license programs at local colleges. So, here's to thinking I know what I want to do with my life.

Benedict Arnold

I have a confession.

I'm a traitor. I have grown up in Brentwood, still live in Brentwood, and even work for a Brentwood-based business. But I love Franklin.

This is a big deal. Considering that these two cities are very different, the people who are respectively from each city hold their home dear in their hearts. Loyalties run deep in everyone, except me.

Brentwood is great. Don't get me wrong. But whenever I tell someone I live in Brentwood, they immediately roll their eyes, or ask if I live in a mansion. No, we live in the Brentwood slums or low-rent district, I laugh. We jokingly call it "The Bubble" because not too much happens here. It's a wonderful place to grow up in. But my main complaint is that Brentwood does not feel like a town. There's no town center. We don't have any festivals. All in all, Brentwood is kind of boring.

Then, just a few miles south, is Franklin. I help with band at Franklin High (although how I got that job is unrelated to my love for the city). I drive through Franklin at least once a week on work-related errands, and every time that I drive through the downtown square and past the historic homes, I fall in love all over again. There are sidewalks in front of beautiful homes that have porches. There is a town square. People park and walk around downtown Franklin purely for fun. But the real reason I love Franklin is that it doesn't have the bubble feel that Brentwood does. It's got a grittiness about it. There are not-so-nicer parts of town, and Franklin people are not ashamed of this.

So there it is - a secret close to my heart. I drive by the houses for sale with a dream of living there, walking my dog on the sidewalks, going downtown to eat on a nice evening.

Maybe it's not too late for Brentwood to learn a few things from its southern neighbor. Then two places would have my heart.

Good riddance, 2010

2011 is here. 2010 is gone.

All I can say is, thank God.

While 2010 had some awesome moments (graduating college, drum corps, a successful FHS band season), mostly 2010 sucked. I won't go into the list of whys exactly, but know it's much longer than the good moments. It seemed like that kind of year for a lot of people I know.

However, I know that I can do some things to ensure that 2011 is a better year. What are those things?

- Do some sort of exercise 4-5 times a week. It doesn't have to be cardio. Yoga counts. So does running around the gym at winter guard practices.

- Do something once a week that is just for me. Whether that's redbox a movie, or go out to a meal, or something that's free. I remember a lot of the weeks in 2010 would pass and I didn't really do anything "fun". Taking that time to do something will recharge my batteries and give me a reason to get through the "not-fun".

- Write something at least 4-5 times a week. Work does not count. But everything else does.

- Get up and go to church on Sundays. Even if it isn't the most spiritually fulfilling that week, it's nice to see everyone.

- Do a better job at keeping in touch with people. Make trips to see people. Tell people I appreciate them.

I think those five things are not overwhelming and are quite doable.

So, I'm going to get to it!

Writings of...the unemployed

I am still jobless.

Well, scratch that. I have a part-time job that I love - teaching color guard to loving high school students. But it pays very little, so I'm trying to find something else. Anything else, really. I'm living at home, and though I am grateful to have a home, I am tiring of it. I would love to have an apartment, but right now that's not just feasible.

So what do I do?

I obsess about the band show this year (which ends in two weeks), I troll Craigslist, I knit a LOT, and have I mentioned that I look at Craigslist?

I know a job will come along. It will be the right job for the time, even if it only fulfills my bank account and not my soul. Teaching guard takes care of the soul-fulfilling part. It's just hard to be patient, especially when NPR pieces talk about how the economy is not just getting any better. Thanks for that injection of hope, employee-of-NPR.

But I will keep up hope!
While I fill out another job application...

Summer has gone and past

This summer was difficult on many levels. I was aging out of an activity that I have watched or participated in for a long time. It was my last time to do it, and I couldn’t participate in the way I wanted to. My knee was not going to let me march in the color guard, and I was given the opportunity to backfield conduct whenever needed. So I stepped into another role – one that was entirely foreign to me. Most of the members didn’t know my history, one that was full of color guard and not being a drum major. They were unforgiving, usually frustratingly so, and there were times I wish I was just watching from the sidelines instead of waving my arms around, trying to keep time. But in the end I was told that I did a fabulous job, and somehow all the other frustrations melted away.

While I was away playing bando for the last time, Jennifer got sick. She had a lump on her thyroid that was biopsied and deemed pre-cancerous. Somehow during meetings with countless doctors, it was decided her thyroid needed to come out. After surgery, the surgeon told her parents that it was most likely cancer, and a test would truly determine it in a few days. Sure enough, it had been cancer. The most used treatment for thyroid cancer was removal of the thyroid, which had just occurred. She still will undergo a radiation treatment just to make sure it is really all gone, but the prognosis is good. However, being apart from her during all this was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She is my sister, and I couldn’t stand being away from her. I have never wanted to leave drum corps so badly. I did take a half-day once we were back in the area to go see her, and I needed that badly.

And while there were times this summer that I either was ready to give it all up or really excited that this was the last year (think: four days of practice in Oklahoma in July), anyone in the corps can tell you I cried the entire last day. On finals day, I cried in horn arc during practice, during the final run, on the bus to warm-up, during warm-up, on the bus to the dome, in the tunnel, during the pre-show, during the ballad, during the Old Man River hit at the end, marching off, during the Jolesch picture, during retreat, on the bus back to the housing site, and finally during the last playing of the Tennessee Waltz by the 2010 MCDC hornline. And while my eyes were swollen the rest of the night, I didn’t cry anymore. It could have been dehydration, but looking back, I think I was just really happy to spend time with those people for one last evening.

Now I’ve spent six straight days on the couch, recovering from knee surgery #5 (five is a lucky number, right?). There was a mess of scarred tissue and my kneecap was tracking incorrectly, so the doctor went in and fixed it all. While surgery itself went well, the aftermath was a bit of a nightmare. I have fully body tremors when I come out of anesthesia, so they gave me Demerol to combat those. Lots of Demerol. And morphine. And hydrocodone. Well, Demerol makes me sick, so after they had managed to get my drugged self in a wheel chair, I managed to throw up in a wheel chair wedged in a sliding door. My mother promptly drove me home (pulling over whenever I yelled that I was going to be sick) and I passed out on the couch. Yesterday I actually went out into society (doctor’s appointment, CVS, and a high school soccer game) and was sore and exhausted last night. So today was an easy day – just the dentist. However, tomorrow I will be going to physical therapy and band practice (finally).

And once again, I am riding solo (this is the newest catch phrase of the latest rappers). This came as a bit of a surprise, but I’ve learned recently that if I just roll with the punches of life and stop complaining, everything tends to work out for the best. So hopefully that’s the case this time too.

My plan once I become slightly more mobile and can drive myself around again (I hate needing a taxi family member) is to get a job – any sort of job. My loan payments start in November, and I don’t want to dip into my measly savings account to pay on those. Plus, I wouldn’t mind something not so serious (read: not a desk job) as I would like to continue teaching my girls at Franklin. Again, I’m trying to roll with the punches. We’ll see how long that lasts.

All my bags are packed. I'm ready to go.

Thank you, John Denver, for setting my mood this afternoon.

I am taking a breather to sit on the couch and take care of all my last-minute electronic forms of communication. Tomorrow is the departure for the rest of the summer. Music City Drum Corps is moving into Bethel University in McKenzie, Tennessee, for two weeks of practice before embarking on a country-wide tour.

My emotions are mixed. I'm excited, obviously, to participate in this wonderful activity again, especially in a new venue. This year, I'm assistant drum major; I stand there and wave my arms, hoping that everyone follows the tempo I set (or something like that...). I'm sad, however, because this is the last year I'll perform. DCI (Drum Corps International) has an age limit of no one 22+ before June 1st. Now, I don't think my body could handle another summer, even if I'm fairly stationary while I wave my arms around. Yet my career with DCI has been fulfilling on levels I never expected, and I'm sad to see it come to an end. I will also miss my friends here and my high school guard that I feel like I'm abandoning.

So besides this crazy week of prep work for leaving, I have been trying to soak up the most out of my abbreviated summer vacation. I taught some high school guard, swam a bit, made numerous Sonic runs, took a road trip to see The Boy, turned 22, and worried about my state of unemployment. I am planning on hitting up the job market once I return as an ageout from DCI, but if the job market doesn't drastically change in six weeks, I may be unlucky, like most of the country appears to be.

So whenever I write here again, I will (hopefully) be tanner and skinnier. I will also be much sadder, as my career as a performer in drum corps has come to an end. However, come August there will be a sense of change and upheaval that, while terrifying, fills me with infectious excitement about the future. Let's just hope that feeling lasts as I fill out job applications.

Well, it happened.

I have graduated from college. While the actual day of graduation was stressful and frustrating, I did indeed walk across a stage and receive my degree (sort of). I'm still waiting for my actual diploma, but such is life. I do indeed have a degree, just not the paper that it's printed on.

I am living at home. I unpacked, sorted through, and have gotten rid of most of the stuff I owned. Clothes that I never wore and items from my childhood that I do not need are sitting in bags in my living room, creating obstacles for my blind dog to trip over. My room is surprisingly bare, and the once busy walls are now painted a soothing tan. I miss my old beach theme, but this room will last until my parents move out, whether I am sleeping in it or guests are.

Drum corps starts in a little over a week, and while excited, I'm apprehensive as well. I just hope my joints can hold up. It's my age out, and I want so badly to participate fully this summer. If my knees make it this one last season, I promise I will go easy on them in the future.

It has not totally sunk in that this fall, for the first time in 17 years, I will not be going to school. Hopefully, I will have some sort of job, even if it's not a career. But I will not be forced to read things I do not want to, nor will I have to deeply analyze what I read. It seems crazy, that all of a sudden I have so much free time and no academic obligations. I have a feeling that my sense of "grown up-ness" will sink in much more in August than it is right now.

Goodbye, March

It's hard to imagine that March with all its thirty-one days is finished. April looms ahead with papers, deadlines, books to read, and the final reading/study day of my college career. However, the start of April looks to be beautiful, as March is finishing up nicely. The weather here is perfect - sunny, slightly breezy, and warm. If April promises to start as nicely, then good riddance, March. You were rainy, cold, and stressful.

I feel like recently, there have been chinks taken out of my faith in humanity. The lies, cheating, and scandal that have become commonplace headlines are just a part of it. I don't want to discuss my feelings for health care bill or any actual political views, but the lack of civility by demonstrators on both sides saddens me. Have we lost all humanity that we cannot hold discussions on our differing opinions without resulting to death threats, spitting, and throwing bricks? I am all for being passionate about what you believe, but please, do it with a grain of civility. If this is a shadow of how we will behave in the future, I do not want any part of it.

However, whenever I feel like I am surrounded by the news of negativity, the little actions of friends and strangers always cheer me up. Whether I read about a good Samaritan in the paper or someone holds the door for me instead of letting it fall in my face, those moments restore my faith in humanity.

So here's to the closing of March and the promise of a busy but exciting April. I just hope the weather stays this nice the entire month.

And fire's a beautiful sound

I’ve been sick. I had some sort of nasty strep throat/sinus infection thing at the beginning of this previous week. The nurse practitioner gave me amoxicillin, so that quickly broke my fever. I still have some lingering congestion, but am feeling much better on the whole.

I have approximately four days (two days of class) until spring break. I need this break. I need to relax on the beach and not think about what defines Faulkner’s style, or trace the way causal reasoning develops in infants, or worry about whether the action in my story is blatant, or try and read more than my brain can hold, or whether everyone has emailed me submissions for the undergrad journal, or reading through proofs and looking for typos and spacing errors. I can read novels that I get to choose. I can eat without thinking about calories. I can be on vacation!

Next Saturday through Thursday, I will be journeying with my best friend and her family to Vero Beach, Florida. I’m excited about everything, even the twelve hour car ride. Then I come home to relax for a bit, spend some time with the Boy, help a little with drum corps camp, and enjoy life. Then it’s back to the daily grind of my last semester, but I’m not thinking about that

And jumping a head a bit, I have purchased my cap and gown for graduation. I went through "graduation central" to purchase it, talk with career services, pay to extend my university email, and fill out info for a door prize. So barring any unforeseen failures of classes, I'll be receiving my degree on May 8th. In a way, it feels so surreal - that graduation is actually here; these past four years have flown by. At the same time, I have put so much effort into these four years that I feel ready to move on to the next stage of my life. Grad school is not happening anytime soon, and I am perfectly okay with the thought of no more school for awhile.

One of my friends asked me a while back if I planned on living my whole life in Nashville. I answered that I didn't know, but the question made me think. What if I do spend my whole life in Nashville? It's always been home. Don't get me wrong - I love traveling and experiencing new places and events. However, there's such a feeling of homecoming whenever I make it back to the gentle, rolling hills of middle Tennessee. So is it bad if I end up calling Nashville and its surroundings "home" for my life?

As usual, those are the thoughts that have been clouding my mind recently. Now my brain is ready to receive some more thoughts. So until next time.

It has been brought to my attention that I have not updated this in quite some time. So here it goes.

I am in my last semester of college. With graduation in 3 months and 5 days, I feel the pressure to become an adult. Become an adult and make gigantic decisions about my future. I refuse. I do not refuse to grow up. Instead, I refuse to think that the decisions I make in the next coming months are worth more weight than the decisions I have made in the past four, past eight years.I remember how terrified I was when I was trying to pick a college. I was overwhelmed by the weight of the decision. But I received some very good advice then that went something like this: "This decision is no more important than what you will wear tomorrow or who you will sit next to at lunch. Just remember, whatever decision you make will be right. It will all turn out okay."

That's the approach I'm taking towards what I'm doing after graduation. I do know I am moving home so that I can march my very last summer of drum corps with Music City. I do know I am in charge of Franklin's guard program. I do know that I want to find something fulfilling and enjoyable with my next few months after drum corps. I need a job to pay my student loans. But it's hard to tell people my post-graduation plans when they ask. So I just give them the basic "find a job" answer. Or try to find a job.

I am not marching winter guard this year. It was the best choice for my health (saving my knees for the summer). I miss performing and bonding with people in the group, but I do not miss the stresses that came with marching, having only Sunday nights to do a weekend's worth of homework. I enjoyed sitting in the audience in the first show I attended. I was able to relax and soak up the performers' energy.

My senior seminar class is perhaps the most interesting class I have taken in my college career. We are discussing what is literature. We are reading all sorts of genre fiction. Genre fiction is the all the that are sold in Borders or Barnes & Noble but are not included in the "Literature" section (sci-fi, romance, mystery, action/adventure). It is really refreshing to be reading books that are not considered "literature" by those in the book world. The first book we are reading is Ilium, a sci-fi book based around the Trojan War that may or may not be taking place on Mars. It is a very intriguing read, and we're speaking about the qualities that do or do not make the work literature. I am excited for the rest of this class.

I am now at my friends' house, waiting for Pizza Hut to come. Don't usually eat pizza, but it's $10 for any pizza, any size. We're too cheap to pass up that.

(Hopefully I will be writing in this blog more often)

Yet another pretty average day.

And that's what I dislike about the school routine. Every day just seems pretty okay. I guess I could consider it an accomplishment that I speak up in class, complete my schoolwork, and generally just make it through the day. But I hate how each day becomes just another day. Hence I love this quote:

"Push the urge away to wake up feeling just the same as yesterday" (NeedtoBreathe).

So I try to take it to heart and make something about each day special and unique. It's a process I'm still struggling with, but I'm trying.

Tomorrow shouldn't be average though, because I get to see the family! I'm going home to teach Franklin on Saturday. It's their first show of the year, and it should be a productive practice day on top of that. The rain just needs to go away!

My coffeemaker is set. The Doctor's Wife and my fluffy bed are calling my name.

Night of television

Wednesday nights are my nights of television. So You Think You Can Dance followed by Glee. Lots of music and dancing, just how I like my life. The best part is that friends come over to watch them with me, so it's also social hour. My mom sends me text message commentary too.

Today was a pretty average day. I went to classes, ate lunch, went to work, did some homework. I'm actually ahead in most of my classes. It's a wonderful feeling. However, I have tests and papers coming up, so I doubt I'll be ahead for much longer.

Starting to get excited about the weekend. No college debauchery planned for this student; instead I'm going home to see the band program I teach march in their first show. I should be able to see some people and hang out a bit, so it's shaping up to be a good weekend.

I hope tomorrow is as stress-free as today. ^Karma cap!^

I promise.

I promise I haven't forgotten about this blog, so

I promise to do my very, very best to write something in this EVERY single day. Even if it's a sentence, I will write something. Anything.

Summer has come and gone, although Evansville weather does not reflect this change yet. It's still hot and humid, no matter how many times the weatherpeople promise relief is on the way.

I sit here, in my very first apartment, and think that I'm facing another semester. But it's not just another semester. It's my final fall semester. I am a senior. A year from now, I will (hopefully) be living in another apartment and (hopefully) have a real-person job that I (hopefully) love and enjoy.

I want to go back to Nashville.
But that's really the only certain thing about my future right now, though.

Oh, the uncertainty. I don't really mind it though.

Now, the Netsilik Eskimo are calling my name, telling me to read the rest of my assignment on them.

Day 1 of promise completed; now many more to go.

Whew

Wow - I finally have a minute to breathe! The past month and a half has been quite possibly some of the busiest days in my life. Lots of endings, a few new beginnings. So I will try to give a quick summary of what happened.

Winter guard ended - Eklipse performed its last performance of "Can I Have Another" at prelims in Dayton, Ohio. While we had a solid run, our performance solid was difficult, so we didn't make finals. Tough, but we spent the following days hanging out and watching some great color guards. I took a dance class from Mia Michaels, and that was an incredible experience! The way she explores movement is so innovative.

Eklipse 2009

Drum corps started! I auditioned and earned at spot at my mother's newest baby (haha), Music City Drum Corps. Since it is a new corps, we will be Open class this year. We are taking a new approach to the activity and doing a shortened tour schedule with everydays in July and weekend camps until then. I know quite a few people in the guard and my brother is marching there as well, so I'm very excited for it to get completely under way.

I went home for Easter! I saw some good friends, had some good meals, and wrote a large majority of my term paper. It was nice to have a normal, relaxing weekend at home.

My friend Kaitlin celebrated her 20th birthday, and it was an epic weekend all around. Several friends came in town, Secondhand Serenade headlined the annual free concert at UE, and we spent the weekend frolicking in the sun.

The general fun that occurred that weekend.

Also, that weekend, I started dating a boy named Ray. We have quite a lot in common.

Between all the fun weekends were days filled with classes, papers, quizzes, tests, workouts, and some fun thrown in. Today was the last day of class, and I have two exams next week. Tomorrow, I'm heading home to take some of my dorm stuff home and then heading to New Jersey with my father to help photograph a giant indoor percussion/guard/dance/baton competition. It's gonna be some work, but it will be nice to see that part of the country!

I have an hour of work left, so I'm off to do that! I'm loving this weather.

Spring break has come and gone. I need another break to recover from my break. Highlights include:

- Winter guard practice and performance in which people screamed lots.

- Playing the Wii and making root beer floats with the family.

- Driving to Knoxville to visit Jenn, a bestie.

- Reading and watching lots of the Food Network at Jenn's apartment. 

- One day at home to do all my errands and take care of the high-maintenance dogs.

- Drive to Atlanta to practice and perform twice for guard.

I realize that I am in a competitive performing arts experience. However, I am and never was one to focus on the scores that are given. Instead, I was taught to focus on the feedback given by the crowd. This weekend put that philosophy of mine to the test. My guard had a decent prelims run and a much better finals run. We had great audience reaction at both performances. The scores did not reflect the feelings we had as the audience applauded and cheered, as we left the floor. But that's not why I perform. This is why:

We present an "intriguing look at the Punk street culture of the 80s. In its color guard structure, 80s effects are also at play: rolling chain-link fences and honest-to-goodness dead-on character performers make this Nashville unit a stand-out. But it's when the show gets a "hit of that adrenaline" that it takes off, with daring, with revolution, and with competition, in mind."

Obviously the reviewer was able to partake in the energy that my guard creates as we do our thing. That's why I pay lots of money to get yelled at, have no social life on the weekends, am constantly behind in homework, bruise and break various joints of my body, and run up miles on my car. 

Just something I wanted to share.

The storm outside is lovely.