26 November 2011

Saturday, November 26, 2011

I'm 26 now. I keep forgetting when I dream and tell myself I'm still 25 and in my mid-twenties instead of my mid- to late-twenties.

I found a church I think is worth returning to. I had to move over a box when I checked off my age and it reminded me that I'm now 26-34 and not 18-25.

I believe that the fact that I have no real friends out here is directly related to the fact that I've accepted that I have no family. The world is trying to tell me that you can't have one without the other, apparently.

Her body is back, yes. Well, most of it. But she's gone and we let her go. I'm partially responsible for not being... a sister or friend or willing to be responsible. But I'm still angry.

This AND that.

This year, I'm miserable teaching. I don't know if it's that I'm miserable or if it's the teaching. It could have something to do with the shooting. Next year, I can't teach kindergarten in Arizona anymore. So I have to choose one of these: 1. Stay in Arizona and teach a different grade. 2. Leave Arizona and teach any grade K-8. Or community college, I suppose. 3. Stay in Arizona and look for different jobs. 4. Leave Arizona and look for different jobs.

I won't be home for Christmas because I have no home. I will, however, be in Phoenix.

I'm looking for something to hold onto. Freeing. Welcoming.

In the darkness, there is still light. This post, though alarmingly pertinent, make me laugh every time I read it and read it again.

I can do anything.

15 October 2011

Anywhere but Phoenix

I think about band names more than I should for a person who can barely carry a tune and butchers chords on guitar. But that would be it. That would be my band name. Anywhere but Phoenix. It seems appropriate. It's mostly true.

I do not like Phoenix. When asked why, I'm quick to answer that it has no soul. But what's that even mean?

This is a cold, cold place that has pockets of community with no connections between them. Drivers aren't defensive--they own the road. The music lacks inspiration. There's even a term for it: Desert Pop. People don't greet others in passing and with my propensity to talk to strangers, I find this problematic. The city is caught in an identity crisis. It's continually expanding but creating the same horizon with each new avenue it adopts.

But the real problem? No, it's not political and has nothing to do with the economy. Not for me, anyway. It's something I can't really explain. I just don't feel like I belong here. So when I say that Phoenix has no soul, what I mean is that I can't find my own here. But maybe I can't see the desert for the sun, so to speak. Because I'm here. And I've signed a contract. And though I may not enjoy the school where I work, I have met some pretty great people there. Even though I feel like I don't belong here, I need to be content with the choices I have made. Besides, the sunsets are beautiful.

Where could I go? Anywhere but Phoenix. Where will I go? I'm just not sure yet.

-Theresa

05 September 2011

And listen,

'bout those bitter songs you sing...

We're all so full of opinions about the way things should and shouldn't be. I'm no different.

This much is clear: it shouldn't be this way. I'm doing what I can to make things better. Good.

I thought by the time I was twenty-five I'd have a clear sense of what home is. Instead, like so many other definitions I've created, I'm only able to define by it by what it isn't.

I want to talk about it but more, I want to not have to. I wish there had been people around when--I just wish there were people around. I want friends. People to see and know. No, I need friends. I need people. Who'd have thought the desert was such a cold place?

...They're not helping anything. They won't make you strong.

I'd plan a move but this time, I want to go to something instead of away from another. Maybe I'm just waiting for the universe to push me to something.

-Theresa

08 August 2011

Hello Blogger,

My old friend.

Yes, it's been a while. Life got really unmanageable there for a bit. I was, and still am, at a loss for words for what has transpired in the last year--particularly the last seven months. I can say this: it can only get better. I'll do what I can to ensure the truth in that last statement.

Of the things that fill me with sorrow, that I'm not sure I believe in love disturbs me the most.

Motion, motion, motion.

If I can shake this year, then maybe I can shake this feeling.

-Theresa

03 July 2011

Love

What a hollow word.

07 June 2011

It hasn't rained hard

for the better part of seven months.

She asked if she could go back home and yes, they said, emphatically and over and over and over. But I haven't called her.

Everything I have ever owned got dusty and old.

It's just a story that makes mid-day television because it's too ludicrous for prime-time and don't seem real enough for the news.

It's been a long year but I'm not ready to give up.

And you know, I did just fine without you. Didn't I? Maybe I'm not the person I thought I'd be by now. No, I'm definitely not. But I'm okay with that. I know I've let a lot of people down. Or maybe I'm thinking too much of myself and I didn't really let anyone down. This is just the way things happen sometimes.

Maybe it's time to leave your change behind.

I've changed a lot. If I didn't change, I don't know what would be left of me. All that is left of me is all that I have. And some have chosen to stay and stick it out and see what becomes of it and me. And some have chosen not to. And that's okay. Because sometimes that's the easier choice.

I was never a very good sister. Will weeks in the rain cure me of this? Probably not. I'd need to intend to.

-Theresa

P.S. Road Trip 2011 will still hold its name, though it's more of a four week long journey of planes, trains and automobiles.

25 May 2011

The days of the week

Snap. Snap.

Today marks the end of my first year of teaching.

Oh, I should warn you that this is one of those "writing-about-what's-going-on-with-no-real-connections-other-than-in-my-head" posts.

Goal: Be a better teacher next year.
Next steps: Long term plans and centers to be completed over the summer.

Goal: Have a real vacation.
Next steps: Stop worrying about what's going to happen when I get home.

Goal: Road Trip 2011
Next steps: Find someone to drive with.

In terms of Road Trip 2011, the facts are these:

I was going to fly to San Francisco, Seattle and then Detroit. Instead, I will drive to San Francisco with a girl from work, fly to Seattle alone and potentially (hopefully) meet Kensey, and then fly to Detroit on June 23. From there, I would like a road trip.

Potential places to visit:

Kalamazoo and a variety of stops in Michigan
Chicago
Little Rock
Alabama
North Carolina

Potential meaning I know someone and/or have been invited to come. My intention is to spend more time in Kalamazoo than Detroit. At least I have keys to a house there.

There is a very big difference between being wanted, needed and necessary. Unfortunately, I feel I understand the very clear distinction between those adjectives.

Goal: Have friends to drink with by the end of the next year of teaching.
Next steps: ...Dang.

-Theresa

16 May 2011

I love my bed.

A Potential Series

At five in the morning, I love my bed. I get in this love bubble where it makes me sad to think about leaving it or a little annoyed if someone disturbs our time together. Even if I didn't have the best night with my bed, I still don't want to leave it. That's how much I love my bed. It's a real, unshakable love.

Let me tell you, people, when I'm not in my bed, I have fantasies about all the lying about I could be doing with my bed. It's just been so good to me. It loves to cuddle. It doesn't tell me I'm wrong. It's especially kind on my fat days. And on the days I really need to sleep in, it muffles the sound of my alarm because I think it loves me too.

Never, not ever, has my bed woken me up before my alarm goes off unless it was something really important like forgetting to blow out a candle or a really icky bug. But you, sir, mistook this love I have for my bed as a joke. No, at five in the morning, nothing is a joke. Except perhaps a text message asking if i m single. That really should have been a joke. As should said text message's mistake follow-up texts and phone calls. Yes, plural. My bed tried to protect me but its grasp only reaches so far. I imagine that there isn't a big network of beds that talk to each other. Although, I imagine if there was, my bed would join that network to tell you or anyone that at five in the morning, do not talk to me. DO NOT POKE THE BEAR.

I love my bed and it loves me too. Especially at five in the morning.

-Theresa

02 May 2011

Value

It is alarmingly easy for the things in our lives that hold great value to lose all meaning.

25 April 2011

As found as she may be,

she's still lost. I'll spare the internet the details, but we know where my sister is now. I love her very, very much but I've washed my hands clean of this particular situation. Instead of going into those details, I'll go into these:

Things I like about myself that others have told me they don't
(A partial list):

How loud my laugh is
My short, curly hair
How easily amused I am
My excitement over seemingly meaningless things
The amount of cumin I use in my cooking
The color of my glasses
I prefer to be barefoot
My taste in music
Sitting criss cross applesauce
How much I notice
Wanderlust
Singing along to any song I know the words to
Shamelessness around strangers
Wearing dresses

I won't let anyone take that from me.

-Theresa

14 April 2011

She's gone.

She's alive, as far as we know, but my little sister is gone.

I think maybe, I'll go for a drive. It's bad form to drive and cry at the same time.

11 April 2011

Broken

I am part of a broken family. No, not in the conventional sense. We're all still around. My mom and dad, they love each other and they love us. We don't hit or say things we don't mean. At least not anymore. But we are broken.

Consider, for a moment, the dishes off which you may or may not enjoy your meals.

This is a complete set. However, through time, it has deteriorated. It is chipped, glued together and cracked. These things happen when you put dishes in the hands of a child or in a microwave and just through general wear. You just can't bear to throw it away because it's been around for so long. But it still holds your meals. This set is not one you would purchase new or even used. But you might consider donating it. Hey, all the pieces are there. There's even this one extra that doesn't quite fit but it stacks just fine for a while. Until it doesn't. Until it scratches that dish it's sitting on so badly that the ceramic finish isn't enough to hold it all together. So that dish falls apart completely. And the rest wish to follow suit.

Oh, but not these dishes. No. They may fall apart, this much is true. But they will hide it and hold themselves together. These dishes of undetermined color and origin, they survive. These dishes, the cockroaches of the culinary world, just won't let go. They are a constant. Cracks and chips and all.

The thing about dishes, at least ones that are not made of plastic, is that they tend to break. So it really makes complete sense that the dish ran away with the spoon. The spoon, it bends. But there's no snapping that spoon. It does not need to be put back together. That dish can rely on that spoon as much as it wants to and that spoon doesn't mind. And they can share all their meals together. There's probably a cat playing the fiddle somewhere.

But this dish? This dish separated herself from the rest. She didn't have a spoon to run away with but she ran anyway. Silly dish. The lines and cracks remain. It's a dish you eat off of with your hands, if you eat off of it at all. It's just one broken dish. Part of a whole no one can find anymore. This dish sits in the sink, waiting to be washed. Waiting for a spoon to ask her to run away. Waiting to be needed. Just waiting.

02 April 2011

I have a perfect body

Because my eyelashes catch my sweat.

Okay, I recognize I've been posting a lot lately. I'd apologize. But I don't want to.

That road trip I've been considering? I think I'm going to start harassing people for places to stay. And near those places to stay, I think I'm going to look for shows. And that money I set aside? I think I'll buy some tickets. Or not. As of right now, this is all a pipe dream. But Iron & Wine isn't coming to Arizona and that bottle of Moscato isn't going to drink itself. So pipe dreams are what I'm living on.

Road trip goals:

Visit states I've never been to (Primarily Washington and Oregon. And maybe Maine.)
Drive the majority of driving to be done. (If I don't go alone)
Gather stories.
Just go.
Get lost and don't be annoyed.
Make new friends.
Keep old friends.
Don't lesson plan, even a little bit.
Keep track.
Go skinny dipping. (This is a life goal I have yet to accomplish.)
Enjoy every moment.
Don't blog drunk.

There at thirty-seven school days left and I still can't believe anyone let me be a teacher.

I taught addition using paper plates, writing using pictures and speaking by threatening a loss of recess. And they want me to do it again next year? Shit.

I love, love, love my job. Love it. I just hate that I can't figure out how to have a life outside of it. And my bed and this lovely bottle of white. But maybe that's not teaching's fault.

I've never really been good at juggling. Not those brightly-colored scarves in elementary school and not life.

I am my own anchor and I keep me here. But so does my abundance of indecision. I'm so very ready to make decisions. Ask, ask away and I will answer. I will decide.

Emily knocked on my door and there are ducks in the pool. Duty calls.

-Theresa

31 March 2011

Road Trip 2011

Is now in the works. I don't know where I'm going or who with but I know it's happening. The last day of school is 25 May. My last day of work is 26 of May. I don't think I have any obligations until the very last week of July. And I'm not even sure about that. I put half of my tax return into savings and have planned ahead for an oil change.

That being said, I'm looking for places to go and stay and see and remember. If I go alone, those places are going to be a lot closer together.

Any suggestions?

-Theresa

26 March 2011

Grab ahold of anything

that's worth keeping.

What I realize now:

I never really let go, even if you were saying goodbye.
I've never not been happy to hear from or see you.
This could turn into something.
Something good.
But maybe you don't think so.
I finally feel like someone worth keeping.
It's a feeling worth keeping.

-Theresa

17 March 2011

All in Good Time

But there's never really a good time for death. Unless, of course, you're writing a movie or television show.

My aunt passed away today. Lung cancer. Never smoked. My family (she has eight brothers and sisters and they're all married. Plus, she has kids.) are waiting in the hospital room until they get kicked out. And I can't commit to $800 for a plane ticket home. The rational part of me says that it's okay because I saw her on Christmas before machines were living for her. I saw her when she could walk and talk and laugh.

The Chaldean part of me?

You stupid bitch. She would go to your funeral if you died. And she wouldn't care how much it cost. She always asked about you. And what the fuck do you mean that you're not sure? Get your stupid ass on a plane and come home. Indefinitely. Your family needs you. Your mom needs you. Her sister just died. Your sister needs you. Her relationship just ended. Who cares that that's not related to your aunt?! Just buy the stupid ticket already! Stop figuring out how much each minute will cost you. $800 for 48 hours for the rest of your family will be priceless. Plus, that way, no one will give your mom shit for you not coming home.

Jeez, I am a selfish asshole.

-Theresa

08 March 2011

Status Quo

I won't regret saying this, this thing that I'm saying.

I'm making a new mix. It's not for you. It's for me.

No, that's not true. It IS for you but it's about me. It is me. It's me now and as I've always been. That's good enough for me.

Is it better than keeping my mouth shut? That goes without saying.

-Theresa

03 March 2011

The Fact of the Matter:

There's a whole lot going on right now and very little of it is in my control. As much as I wish I wasn't on a pill it's difficult to get off of, right now, I'm a little grateful. Because if I wasn't, I'd be a heap on the floor.

But I am so I'm not.

All I can really say is that I'm fine. Really. Not in the way I used to think I was placating people. Just that there's a lot going on and all of it is out of my control. So I may cry a little easier but for the most part, I think I'm holding up okay.

To ensure that and my place in hell: I'm not sure that I'll be going home for the funerals when they come around.

11 February 2011

Borrower

For the first time in my life, I bought a car. The two cars I've had in my life were leased for me. Because they were borrowed, I had no problem letting others drive my car for me. That and the crippling fear of driving. But today, I hit the thousand mile mark on my car. And I drove every one of those miles. That's the first time that's ever happened in a car that was "mine." I've done all the driving. I know that's not impressive at all to most people out there. But this is huge for me.

And yet, it all feels so similar. February and wondering why it is that the pieces still don't fit together just right. What is it that keeps friends from hearing the strain in my voice? All day today, I've really just needed to talk. So... I came to my blog.

What I really want to say: Last night, my ex-boyfriend texted me to say he was thinking of me. Why? It would have been better for us to have been friends right away than get random texts four months later. But maybe that's just me. And as for that guy I was seeing, well, I haven't heard from him in a few days. I suppose it's to be expected.

Actually, it's not. I'll admit it: I'm pretty fucking great, folks. So, maybe I can be a shitty friend because I'd rather stay in and watch a movie than go out and drink but there is no one in my life I let down more than myself. But that's always been me. I kind of just have to know: why do people keep giving up on me? I haven't given up on myself. Even when I make stupid decisions like eating nachos instead of a salad and reading instead of sleeping and being honest instead of not. And yet, I'm starting to believe that people want to be lied to. People don't want to hear the truth. I refuse to accommodate. I'd be letting myself down if I didn't remain the honest person that I am. And I can't do that anymore. I can't give up on myself if everyone else is going to.

I'm beginning to understand that all the time I spend in other people's lives is just borrowed. It's not really mine to keep. It's limited and eventually, I have to give it back. I mean, I worked in a library--not a bookstore. And even the promises of permanence seem to have expiration dates. But this car and those thousand miles--it feels really good to own them. To have known they were mine to keep. To know I won't have to give them back. And while a car is not permanent, I guess I wish I could feel that way about a few more things in my life.

-Theresa

07 February 2011

When Devonnes Grown Old

At McDonald's, after ordering a drink (it's only a dollar for a fountain drink):

Devonne: Excuse me, miss. Is it okay if I ask you a question?
Me: (Pause.) Sure. (Brace myself.)
Devonne: How old are you?
Me: (Sigh of relief.) Twenty-five.
Devonne: No way. I would've thought for sure you were younger. Like a freshman. In high school.
Me: Oh, um, thanks.
Devonne: No, I mean, you're pretty. What are you? Mexican?
Me: No
Devonne: Black? White? Mixed? Eastern European?
Me: Nope. No, Nah. No. Middle Eastern. Not many guess.
Devonne: Oh, that's nice. But you real pretty. I mean, real, real pretty. You should really do something with that. You could do something with that.
Me: (Awkward laughter) Oh, thanks.
Devonne: I mean, I'm not tryin' to pick you up or anything, I'm just saying you're pretty.
Me: (Back away and make my exit.)

Items of note:

This Devonne was at least in his fifties.
He wouldn't move away from the pop dispenser, which is all I went in for.
I was still wearing my name badge that clearly states I'm a teacher.
He watched me drive up.
He still hit on me even though he thought I was a freshman in high school.

Now, I know this doesn't seem like I was hit on. But I've known many-a Devonne in my life. And believe me, it was a Devonne moment.

-Theresa

06 February 2011

Haves and Have Nots

The Haves:

I have been seeing someone for a few weeks now. I'm not sure where it's going and I'm not going to push it. It could be over, for all I know. Regardless, it's kind of fun to date.

I have spent too much time in bed lately, feeling sick. This weekend and last weekend comprised mostly of me in my bed (alone) with a book or a movie between naps.

I have become addicted to kettle corn and I don't mind one bit.

I have let a lot of people down but I can't live my life like that anymore.

I have invented a new game: College.

My emotions may have leveled off, but I still have feelings, folks.

In a lot of ways, I've become the kind of person I've been working toward becoming.



The Have Nots:

I have (had) not been taking my medication for a few days. I'd been trying to ween off and decided to just go big and stop all together. As it turns out, they're not joking about not stopping abruptly. Apparently, withdrawal is a very real thing. Side effects: nausea, dizziness, flu-like symptoms, ringing in ears, headaches. And it can last for about two weeks. This could explain all the time I've spent in bed. So I started taking the pills again because I can't let this get in the way of work. I'll wait until the summer.

I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing as a teacher. I want to get better at it.

I have not done my homework or completed my lesson plans for the week. (Edit: I have finished homework and two days worth of plans as of 6:15.)

I have not yet bought a bike tire.

I have not yet stopped self-deprecating remarks because maybe I still believe them a little.

30 January 2011

To be better,

one must work to be better.

This isn't a new year's resolution. It's sort of a life resolution. I've always tried hard to make myself a better version of... myself. Lately, I've just been bitching about how things aren't right. Given, I did a lot of that bitching in my head. Regardless, it's easy to forget how in control of my life I can be. So, I'm taking control.

Instead of...

Complaining I have no friends, I'll be a better friend to those in my life.
Wishing I was organized, I'll get organized.
Wanting people to call me, I'll call people.
Hoping someone will strike up a conversation with me, I will strike up a conversation.

These are simple, natural conclusions to come to. Jesus, why didn't I come to them sooner?

Things I've decided to do:

Sleep when I'm tired
Smile more
Not cancel plans
Be the friend I want others to be to me
Be unflinchingly honest
Unabashedly read teen fiction
Embrace Phoenix. For the time being.
Worry only about things it will do good to worry about
Stop. Fucking. Projecting.
Write back

And so, I'm still the same crazy, curly-haired being you may or may not know. But again, I've turned a page. Same story. Different chapter. These might be my favorite parts of my life--the parts where I can see the change in myself. It may be a little self-serving. But hey, I've kind of got to love the person I am. I shouldn't expect others to if I don't.

-Theresa

26 January 2011

Wha?

I know I haven't updated in awhile. I sort of fell off the face of the earth and it was intentional. I started to feel like I was letting too many people down. Chances are, I let down a few people every day. Actually, a few people plus my entire class. But really, I knew that I just hadn't had enough stuck-in-my-head time lately. The time I spend just hanging out with myself thinking about who I am and what I like about me and what I don't like and what I can do to change it. I think I'm feeling a bit better. Not like my readership of two people, maybe, were disappointed. ;)

I just wanted to let you know that I've resurfaced. And I'm happy. And that nap today helped. And 2011? It's really going to be mine. I'm just trying things I've never done before and it's paying off.

Hey, how do I feel about the Air Force?

-Theresa

05 January 2011

I think I'm a grown-up.

Crap.

I bought a car. I know things about financing and credit and other fancy, old-sounding crap like that. And I DON'T LIKE IT.

So, I'm twenty-five. I (will) own my car. I'm working on a salary, full time. I like reading more than drinking. I worry about my regularity. I've been talking to an insurance agent about my options. There's no two ways about it: I'm a grown-up.

I never thought it would happen.