Smells Like Apples

Quick Change

2012-01-22T20:54:00.000-05:00

No one, not ever, has asked me to stay.

But it's finally happened.

So. Now what?

Saturday, November 26, 2011

2011-11-26T23:19:00.000-05:00

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.

Anywhere but Phoenix

2011-10-15T12:46:00.000-04:00

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

And listen,

2011-09-05T14:14:00.000-04:00

'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

Hello Blogger,

2011-08-08T01:17:00.000-04:00

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

Love

2011-07-03T23:07:00.002-04:00

What a hollow word.

It hasn't rained hard

2011-06-07T06:06:00.000-04:00

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.

The days of the week

2011-05-25T22:23:00.001-04:00

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

I love my bed.

2011-05-16T21:14:00.000-04:00

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

Value

2011-05-02T01:31:00.000-04:00

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

As found as she may be,

2011-04-25T02:38:00.000-04:00

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

She's gone.

2011-04-14T21:13:00.000-04:00

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.

Broken

2011-04-11T02:33:00.000-04:00

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.

I have a perfect body

2011-04-02T00:05:00.000-04:00

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

Road Trip 2011

2011-03-31T00:01:00.000-04:00

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

Grab ahold of anything

2011-03-26T19:51:00.000-04:00

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

All in Good Time

2011-03-17T18:03:00.000-04:00

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

Status Quo

2011-03-08T22:23:00.000-05:00

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

The Fact of the Matter:

2011-03-03T22:34:00.000-05:00

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.

Borrower

2011-02-11T22:57:00.000-05:00

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

When Devonnes Grown Old

2011-02-07T22:43:00.000-05:00

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

Haves and Have Nots

2011-02-06T18:05:00.001-05:00

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.

To be better,

2011-01-30T16:53:00.000-05:00

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

Wha?

2011-01-26T23:44:00.000-05:00

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

I think I'm a grown-up.

2011-01-05T22:27:00.000-05:00

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.

If Teaching Doesn't Work Out

2010-12-19T09:45:00.000-05:00

1. I would love, love, LOVE to work for Sesame Street. I checked. No job openings. I loved that show as a kid. I love it now. It would still be in the realm of education. I mean, I'd probably feel guilty because I wasn't really closing the achievement gap but I don't feel like I'm doing that right now anyway. Just think about it. How cool would that be?

2. I wouldn't really love it because well, I hate driving so much, but I would be a pretty awesome designated driver. I DD'd last night and it was kind of great. I don't actually enjoy getting drunk unless I completely trust the people I'm around. Which doesn't happen often. But man, I'm an awesome DD. I let my designated drinkers pre-game. Then, we went to a house party where there was a fire. I love me some fires. I could just stand there and stare at it instead of having to make small talk. (And no wonder I don't have any friends.) Then, I packed too many people into my car and drove them to the bar. Because I was sober, I could totally use that as an excuse to not dance AND no one looked cute so I didn't leave feeling defeated. Afterwards, I drove my designated drinker around looking for an open drive-thru even though I had to be awake early this morning. But I didn't order anything because even though I was hungry, nothing sounded OMG ssoooooo good. I'd say I made a great life choice last night and now, a potential future.

I'm Yours

2010-12-09T23:08:00.000-05:00

if you want me.

And that seems to be the problem. I've been listening to this mix I made (title: On a Last Night) for someone I once thought I knew. It's just full of these songs that I can't help but sing along to and feel alive when hearing. Twenty-five songs full. Stuck in my head--in my life--is this song by Chris Thile. It just says everything. It's amazing. But do you know what would make it perfect? If it's a song someone wishes I would hear and think of him. And that's the problem with my music. As in, the music I listen to. It's so full of meaning. It means so much to me. So much that I want to share it. I want to share the message I've heard and felt and can't articulate any better, try as I might. It's so full that I want to share it. And so I do. And I share what it means to me. Or try to.

But as much of a problem as that is, the real problem is that I'm the one giving away songs and meanings and intentions like the ones in the songs I breathe by. I'm just giving it away. No one needs to question my intentions and my thoughts because I'm just laying it all out on the line. And for a while, I thought it was refreshing to have a person like me in my life. But now I'm thinking that maybe it's really annoying. It might be frustrating. It might be... emasculating. I mean, that's just if I'm being full of myself. I just think back to all those books I felt obligated to read when I gave into guilt and obligation. And I won't link to them but my goodness, don't read a book that's written for women by a woman AND her husband if you don't want to go crazy(ier). Because you might say things like this: Those stupid books that I didn't want to read but can't let go might be onto something. Maybe they were right about men wanting to pursue women. That we needed to make it a little easier on them by not moving so much. By not having our own lives and not being... real individuals. That we need to play those stupid games where the rules get hard to keep track of. Because otherwise, all you might end up with is playlists on a medium that may eventually become obsolete professing your belonging to another person who might have skipped over the track because he didn't like the key the song was written in.

Or something like that.

I'm not sure it's something I'm willing to change yet. But maybe I shouldn't wear my heart on my sleeve so much. Or maybe I should wear it on my sleeve but try to quit trying to give it away so much. I keep thinking there's got to be someone out there for me. But maybe there isn't.

And maybe that's okay. As long as Sarah Dessen keeps writing for the rest of my life.

And I say that in jest and not really so much in jest. I don't want to be alone. But that's what I am and I should make the most of it. So I will ~~try~~.

-Theresa

What I was trying to say:

2010-12-04T03:56:00.001-05:00

I'm hardly the person you remember. Different. A little the same. A little different. I don't know. I'm just not who I was.

Of hippies and hipsters

2010-12-03T22:11:00.000-05:00

In my life, I have been called both a hippy and a hipster depending on where I lived at the time and who I was talking to.

Here in Phoenix, they think I'm a hippy. I don't shower or shave often. I walk when I can. I like shopping at the farmers market. I like the way kombucha tastes. My favorite coffee doesn't come from Starbucks. My clothes are meant to keep me warm and I sort of ascribe to my own style.

I just feel like such a poser. Kalamazoo, aside from the people I worked with at Old Navy who probably just thought I was strange, wouldn't classify me as a hippy. I never once wanted to live at the community house. I like the way my legs feel when I shave them--I'm just too lazy to. Showering? I'd rather sleep in. Although, the people who did live in the housing co-op often got offended when I called them hippies...

Regardless, I was just thinking about Phoenix's lack of soul. Here, I'm a hippy to people because everyone has to be something. This was supposed to be a more well-thought out post. Meh.

That being said: I hate Phoenix.

-Theresa

Sundays

2010-11-21T11:04:00.000-05:00

I'm going to church today for the first time in over a year. Well, we went to a Chaldean church for Christmas when my mom was here. But in the interest of... interest, it's been over a year. I'm excited and nervous. And a little worried that it won't feel like it used to.

And when I get back? Lesson planning and grading!!!! Yay! I have a break this week but I want to get on top of it all. And be a better teacher since they keep giving me these breaks.

Anyway, I should probably go take that shower I should have taken a few days ago.

-Theresa

A mantra, of sorts.

2010-11-19T20:01:00.002-05:00

Or, Too Much (Not enough) Information

Help me, Fiber, for I can't shit.
It's been five days since my last excretion.

Oh, I so went there. My tummy hurts. I'm probably going to hell for using my Catholic background like this.

Four-day weekends and twenty-five

2010-11-15T00:39:00.001-05:00

My goodness, this was a good weekend. I turned twenty-five and I spent the day just being. I cleaned my room. You'd be impressed. I haven't seen this much floor since before I moved in. I went shopping and spent time with people without worrying about where I had to be and when. And I didn't even plan one lesson. It was just... relaxing. Nice. Friday night? I recorded a Disney Channel movie based on a teen book by the same name (the book was totally better) in order to play Settlers. Then I slept in on Saturday and watched the movie in my pajamas. Being an adult isn't so bad.

But I miss my kids. Jeez. Did you see what I wrote? My kids. I mean, my students. But I like those little people. Even when they break my heart and a little bit, my spirit, I really appreciate them. We read The Kissing Hand again recently. It was a book we'd read on the first day of school but reread it for some comprehension objective I can't remember but could pull out a lesson plan to tell you. Regardless, we've been discussing what all the pictures are really showing. On the last page, Chester (or his mom) is giving the sign language symbol for "I love you." I explained to them what it meant. Now, about a third of the time I hear "teeeeesheeerrr, loooook," I see them showing me their loving gesture. The other two-thirds? A semblance of completion in a task or someone doing something wrong. Although, arguably, they're supposed to raise their hands and wait for me to call on them, which would mean that two-thirds of the time, they're breaking a rule. But that other third? It totally makes up for being called an article of clothing.

These little beings? They just wanted to be loved. Their eyes just get big with shock and sheer jubilation when I sign back to them that yes, I am so fond of them, I love them. Sometimes, I say it too. Even when I'm tired and cursing myself for not having prepared back-up plans for a substitute in order to call in sick, it brings light to my day. They know I get frustrated. I think they know I know they get frustrated. Well, most of them. But those moments when they sign to me, they're telling me it's okay. They're telling me to keep going. And in my gesture of love to them and of course, my words, the recognize that they are allowed to make mistakes. In fact, as long as it doesn't hurt anyone, I encourage it. It's how we learn. But I know for a fact, it is not a mistake loving these growing people.

I've heard people say things about how it's different when they're your kids. The love you have for people. The little things don't bug you as much. These small creatures have been nowhere in me but my heart. Their gestations periods were in women with their same last names. They go home to tell someone all about their days. But I am genuinely happy every day I get to spend with them. It makes me sad that, already, three of my students have been abruptly pulled from the school for reasons I'm not aware. I am honest every time I raise two fingers and a thumb. These people whose first language isn't English can certainly understand it.

So I miss my kids. Those people I spend most of my days with. It's perfectly rational to miss them, I think. And worry for them. And wish I was playing with them instead of teaching them grammar. Don't get me wrong--I wish I had weekends this long a little more often. But I do love those kids.

But I also understand, I feel maybe one one-hundredth of what my mother continues to feel for me. They are only mine through May so I'd better make the most of our time together. Even when I'd rather be sleeping.

-Theresa

One long week.

2010-11-06T18:14:00.000-04:00

Rather than trying to think about this week and what it meant and what I can do to change it, I will merely present facts. My goodness, I've described many weeks as long but this one might take the cake of my post-college years. Long weeks were a given in my college years as many days lasted forty hours. I digress.

Monday night, ASU classes. Didn't go to dinner I was mistakenly invited to as I'm not black. Grad school is just like freshman year of college for many people, it seems. And I intend on not returning to that year. Home by 9:30.

Tuesday, I can't remember anything worth reporting other than I think it was the only night I was back to my apartment by eight.

Wednesday begins the fun.

*Phone call from the office. "Find someone to cover your class as soon as possible and come to the office."
*Newly arrived Arabic speaking student, shocked that anyone at the school spoke Arabic introduced herself to me weeks earlier (another teacher had told her), had been attacked by another student and couldn't bring herself to speak English or calm down. I spent half an hour in the office with a teacher watching my class and her class calming this girl down and explaining exactly why it's not a bad thing that she came to America. I done the government proud.
*Run into another Arabic speaking family who needs help with translation for a program that, ironically, teaches them English. Promise to help the following day.
*Model teacher night. Two hour meeting where I talk about how my life in the classroom is going.
*Dinner with a friend. Awesome.

Thursday, I've been outed. Administration is shocked by the fact that I'm not some dumb American who moved to Arizona but can't speak Spanish. They see my value. Damn it.

*TeachTeachTeach. I'm working hard on pulling my kids back in. I don't know what I did wrong but they're going crazy.
*Catch a teacher who fainted from a finger prick.
*Go to a training about refugees. Actually helpful.
*Back to school to help translate for parents who want to know how to buy the book in their English class among other things. Turns out, they're Chaldean.

Friday, my crowning jewel, is a half day for students.

*Feeling sick. The sore throat kind.
*Sent all but one of my students to centers because she needed someone to talk to. For an hour.
*My kids wanted to eat outside so we ate at picnic tables. The plan was that we go to recess after but there was a playground right nearby that they were instructed not to play on. Three students go for it anyway. Including Little Miss Chatterbox.
*Recess. There's a dog on the playground. Half my kids freak out, other half excited. I catch the dog but it's freaking out because so many kids are running at him. Definitely a him. Ask another teacher to call the office. Office tells us to bring him up. There's a gross patch on his neck so I don't want to carry him so I ask for string. In the mean time, kids are freaking out even more. Dog starts nipping at me and other teacher is able to help me and walk the dog up.
*Back inside. There's only a half hour of school left so, free choice time. I spend that half hour talking to the girl I already talked to for an hour about how she thinks I don't care about her and I shouldn't be so bossy. My heart broke as I tried to explain that creating rules isn't being bossy and by holding her to the same standards I hold everyone else and being fair, I actually care for her quite a bit. Given, there's family background but still. She's only six. How do I get this girl to see that I care for her?
*Professional Development. SUCKED.
*Prepare for the Fall Festival.
*Fall Festival.
*Home by 8:30.

And today? I've only left my bed to make breakfast and use the bathroom. I'm full on sick. I'm totally taking advantage of this and watching TV on hulu and reading all day. And I ate a bag of chips. Guilt free. I can lesson plan tomorrow.

Oh, and I'm turning twenty-five in a few days.

-Theresa

What it is about driving

2010-10-16T22:20:00.000-04:00

that I hate so much is that there is so much going on at one time that it's overwhelming to catalogue it all and keep as much in my control as possible at the same time. I get anxious while driving because I am hyper-aware of the world around me. I notice when a car or truck is swerving a little or when other drivers are on their phones. As I notice this, I worry that they won't notice that I'm a nervous driver, my grip on the steering wheel tightens.

It's not that I've become less aware. It's that my awareness no longer causes as much of a physical reaction. And it's not some special breathing technique or mantra I repeat. It's a generic of effexor that allows me to drive on roads I've learned the curves of. Unfortunately, I still react as I did before if it's a road I haven't driven before. Or if it's night time.

Because my dad so constantly reminds me that I need to take care of myself, I began to feel more and more broken because my fear of driving was a way that I was not taking care of myself. My fear of driving was just one more thing about me that wasn't quite right. And I wanted to fix it so I could take care of myself. Not because I really want to drive. No, I hate driving. I wanted to fix it so that I felt a little less unloveable.

Of all the things I've learned in the last year, the one that I think will stick with me for a while is that no matter how much I want to be loved, I can't force it. I can't make anyone love me. I know, I know. I need to love myself. And I do. Just not with the same passion that I love others. And so, unfortunately, I still continue to feel unloveable. And so, though I am putting more life pieces together, I am still broken. I am still not whole.

This isn't post-break-up pain. This is just the realization that as much as I want to take control of my life, some things are just uncontrollable. And that weakness I have that becomes so much more apparent when I have to drive might be a blessing because it made me feel like I needed to do something. So I went on an anti-anxiety/anti-depressant. And it made a difference in my life because I can drive more often. And it made a difference in my brother's life because he's still alive. Because he sees my weakness as a strength. Because, though I may feel unloveable, I know that I am worth love. I know that I deserve love.

I deserve love.

And that is why I am single. Not because I am unloveable. Because I'm not. Though I may be crazy and passionate and want to be nice and love life and everything in it, I am not unloveable. I will not settle for thinking that I am.

-Theresa

It was me who pulled away.

2010-10-11T16:37:00.000-04:00

In all fairness, he moved but I did the actual emotional separation. He was worried I'd think he'd abandoned me. In some ways, he had. Phoenix was definitely not my first choice for this year and I ranked it higher than I would have if it had not been for him. Regardless, it's where Teach For America placed me and I would have moved wherever they ended up placing me. But there were some things early on in our relationship that a normal person would have let go. But no, not me. I internalize these things and I take them personally. Why? Why do I take everything so personally? Because I'm all I've got. Because, like my dad so kindly reminds me every few months or so, if I don't take care of myself, no one else will. And being mean is not taking care. It's not caring.

I think about everything I say before I say it. Well, for the most part. I won't be held responsible for the quick wit of my tongue. But if I think I might hurt someone with my words, I hold those words in for as long as possible to ensure that I really mean them. He didn't do that. He said what he was thinking and never really apologized for it, even if his opinions changed. Two months after one specific fight, he realizes that it's pretty normal for first year teachers to be working as much as I've been working. But he never apologized for the comments he had made. He never apologized for putting his future ahead of me and never mentioned it until yesterday.

Because he had a tendency to not think how I would take things, I had a tendency to take things personally. Because he knew that about me, I assumed he didn't care. I told myself he didn't really care. I convinced myself that he didn't love me. Although, I'm fairly certain that that's true. And I wouldn't let these things go because... Well, it didn't feel like he loved me. So I've spent these last six months looking for proof that he didn't love me. It wasn't hard to do. He rarely told me. I felt like I annoyed him. I didn't feel like myself. I wasn't what he wanted. In a woman or in a life. And I had myself convinced. He was abandoning me. He didn't love me.

But as I sat on the opposite end of a couch, I wondered if it had maybe been me all along. I put other people first. And I resented him for always wanting to spend time with me because I wanted more friends. And my goodness, I really do take everything personally. I could have made an effort to visit him. I could have taken a page from his book and just told him what I was thinking the first time I thought it. And asked a doctor for a prescription without quite so many side effects. I could have loved him. And I might. But as I laid on the opposite side of the couch and realized that he was lying down because it was his last defense, the words "so this is it?" just echoed in a room that had never echoed before. And I could do was apologize. Over and over. All I could say was sorry. Because I hadn't tried hard enough. Because I felt like I was abandoning him. I asked him if he ever thought about breaking up before and he'd said yes but never said why he didn't do anything about it. And we didn't talk about the fact that we didn't kiss when he walked in the day before. And he didn't hold my hand while walking. We didn't talk about that. We hugged and he left. He let me know he was back to his apartment, recommended a band and I haven't heard from him since. I fear I won't ever hear from him again--the only consistent person in my life for longer than a year is gone because... Because I scare easily. Fight or flight, right? I think this was both. I was fighting for myself, which is why I left.

I'm sorry that I wasn't all in. I'm sorry that I didn't let my defenses all the way down. That I didn't let you love me, if you had wanted to. That I was afraid to tell you the truth. That I didn't make you love me. That I waited so long to tell you. That I didn't try harder. That sometimes, I was afraid to talk to you. That I couldn't accurately describe that fear. That I miss you. I'm just so sorry that I hurt you.

I'm writing at a coffee shop because I need to catch up on work during break and I can't write much more right now without looking like that crazy girl in the corner. So I'm going to work on lesson plans. And I guess that I'm going to work on moving on. Isn't it supposed to be easy for the breaker?

SCF

2010-10-10T20:27:00.000-04:00

Doesn't quite have the ring that SWF does. But I am. Single, now, I mean. And it was hard. It had been a year. More than. And I liked him more than I admitted. It was a front so as to make it easier. But it didn't. It rarely does, my stupid methods of self-preservation. Well, they suck. I don't regret my decision, I don't think. It seemed the right time. If there is a right time. It was the most honest talk we'd ever had, I think. I think and I think and I think. I don't know what else to say. Just that I wish I had more friends to call and talk about this. This? Life. That I wish I had more friends to talk to about life.

The Return of the Coffee Addiction

2010-10-03T18:48:00.000-04:00

I was doing so well. I didn't need coffee to wake up or stay up or get through the day. And I didn't need to replace it with anything else either. I could drink coffee when I wanted to enjoy the flavor instead of when I needed the effects.

And then, Last Week happened. Last Week was just rough. Some old health problems remerged. A problem I haven't dealt with yet hasn't gone away. I'm a teacher and I go to school. Just... Rough. So, Monday morning, I made myself a cup of coffee in the morning and it tasted good. Really good. But I only drank half of it and I didn't feel guilty. But then Tuesday showed up and I was tired from class the night before so I made more coffee. This time, I finished my mug before school even started. Every morning since then, I've caffeinated myself. People, I didn't mean to. It just happened! And now, I can't hurt the coffee's feelings by not taking it to work with me every morning. Coffee would feel sad and abandoned. Coffee came all that way from Columbia or Africa to the store to my cupboard, which is an awfully long way to go and then get ignored. So, I'm just doing a service, you know?

The coffee understands. The coffee's back. And I'm sorry I ever let coffee go in the first place. Coffee just... knows me. Coffee gives me the jitters and that feeling in my stomach that ~~no one~~ nothing else does. So coffee is back in my life and I'm not ashamed of it anymore!

Now, I'm going to go get a refill.

-Theresa

But when you're all alone

2010-09-29T00:19:00.000-04:00

You and your head.

That's when it's the worst. That year? Twenty-three? It seems to have showed up again. I'm not really twenty-three. But I sure feel like I'm regressing. And Body? Didn't listen. That bitch. I put in a call to Mrs. Lady Doctor. Booked up. We wait.

They let me be a teacher. Whose idea was that? Today, I contended with children crawling under tables and crying and saying they peed their pants (when they hadn't) so they didn't have to go to computer class and tearing pages from books. And oh, I yelled. And I feel guilty. I feel guilty? No, that's not this feeling. This feeling is that nagging in my brain that says if I was a good classroom leader, my students wouldn't lie to me and they'd know it wasn't okay to crawl under tables and that books are our friends and we are to love them and hold them tenderly so they can tell their stories over and over. Unless, of course, we're talking about The Da Vinci Code. My goodness, boys and girls, color on as many pages of that book as you want and I wouldn't mourn if for a moment. I'm bad at classroom management. That's the problem.

But I've never really been good at management. In many ways, I fly by the seat of my pants. No, I'm far to anxious to just fly by the seat of my pants. Besides, I've been wearing a lot of skirts lately. What am I trying to say? Teaching is hard. Rewarding, but hard. The Arizona education system is broken and I can't fix it but I sure can try my hardest to make sure that the kids don't realize they have any fewer opportunities than any televised experiences they may have absorbed and internalized.

Today, one of my students asked "Teacher, you have a mom?" Of course I have a mom but she lives far away. "Why?" Well, I moved away and she lives in Michigan. "Where do you live?" Phoenix. "Like a house?" Like a house. An apartment. "I have brothers. Do you have sister?" Yes, her name is Lauren. "I have a sister."

That was my favorite moment of the day. And there are so many moments like this in my days. I just have to remember to focus on them. Most of these kids don't mean any harm. And in many ways, as a kindergarten teacher, it's my job to train these little people to act like people. For example, if you spill apple sauce on your shirt, you should wipe it off and someone is doing something you don't like, tell them to stop. The part that makes me sad is when they have to learn things like "just because you don't want to doesn't mean you're not going to." Goodness, I'm starting to feel mean.

Today was just a rough day. It might have been easier if health wasn't an issue and my goodness, if I could just form the words to say what I really need to say. But that doesn't change the fact that I need better classroom management.

Tomorrow is a new day. And all my kids' clips are back on green. And all that stuff we didn't learn today? We'll learn tomorrow. Except, well, it'll be Wednesday and the 41st day of school.

But when you think you made it disappear
It comes again, "Hello, I'm here"

-Theresa

Because he doesn't love me.

2010-09-18T21:35:00.002-04:00

And that's reason enough.

Looking for something pure

2010-09-12T00:21:00.002-04:00

Twice now, I've received phone calls from you that break my heart and fill me with fire at the same time. Three hours ahead. Four and a half years behind. But Brother, I'm broken too. Don't you understand that when we hang up I wonder if it will be the last time? That I don't have anyone to talk to after we talk? That I'm lonely too? That there are worse things than pain and sadness? That I'm broken too? I can provide you with excuses and reassurance but I can't put you back together. I can't hold me together.

I can't not care. Sometimes, rarely, but sometimes, I wish I had someone like me in my life.

We watched it all night. We grew up in spite of it.

-Theresa

What rhymes with apples?

2010-09-04T20:36:00.002-04:00

Well, it's been five weeks of teaching, twenty-four days of kindergarten, two weeks of ASU, about four tantrums and countless tears (both the students' and mine.) It's been long and it's been extremely difficult. But I've been doing it. And I kind of really love it. Most of the kids are really amazing little creatures. The remaining few created tantrums and tears of their own and mine. But you know what? They're kind of pretty amazing too. Even though I can't be entirely certain if they're learning to read and write at the pace that they should be, they're learning manners and personal responsibility. I can tell because there are fewer tantrums. And that can't ever be bad.

Life is moving forward, I think. And I need to be moving with it. I'm certainly trying in some ways. And regressing in others. I got an elephant tattoo last weekend on a pseudo-whim. It seems whenever there's a big change in my life and I feel overwhelmed and I need to take control, I change something on my body. It's never the way I dress or a better diet. No, nothing of the sort. When I moved away from home, I got my nose pierced. After getting the most specific vague answer to prayer, I got my first tattoo. After discovering I had to have surgery and putting plans to move to Phoenix into action, I got my nose pierced again. After becoming a kindergarten teacher and realizing there was no way I could walk away from it, I got an elephant tattoo. I change these things about myself because they are things I know are there. I knew all the the events were going to be big, life-changing events. And they all have been. And just like those people who get tattoos in memory of people who have died (like they'd ever forget), I permanently change something about myself, for myself, in memory of my reasoning and the process. That's ridiculous. Aren't tattoos and piercing supposed to be that weird shit that teens do to piss off their parents. I guess wisdom comes with age.

Did I mention I'm turning twenty-five? I'm turning twenty-five. Not until November, but still. I mean, I guess I've done things now and it shouldn't be so scary. But it is. I've gone to college. And I'm going again. And I have a "real" job because it's a career and I get paid enough to pay my bills. And I've travelled. But I feel like I haven't learned enough and I haven't given back enough and I haven't explored enough. Not to be twenty-five. I know. I know. I'm over-thinking this. But what don't I over think? I'm doing all these things that lean toward the "grown-up" color of the spectrum but I still don't feel... settled. I think that makes sense. Also, I never, EVER wanted to be a grown-up. I am older than some of my students' parents. It's okay. You don't have to throw up in your mouth. I just threw up in mine.

Things I've (re)learned:

I love children's books.
Dr. Seuss will always make me smile.
Gluten is mean.
Money is stupid.
I love tea.
I miss a real Fall.
Goodness, being a mother (not that I will be soon) scares the living daylights out of me.
Teaching reminds me how afraid I am to have kids of my own.
I love being a teacher.
Even if I hate lesson planning.
Kindergartners have a lot to say once they know you're listening.
You can never tell a person too many good things about oneself.

-Theresa

Miss Bindergarten

2010-08-01T17:55:00.003-04:00

Gets Ready for Kindergarten.

I'm at a coffee shop because even though I'm getting ready for kindergarten, I'm not hooked up to the internet at my apartment yet. And I'm not ready for kindergarten. Twenty years. That's how long it's been since I've been in a kindergarten classroom. Okay, that's not true anymore because I've been setting up my classroom for the last two weeks. I'm so overwhelmed by it all. If I screw it up, these kids aren't prepared for the rest of the their lives. I know. I know. A little dramatic. But TFA got to me. I'm setting these kids up for failure if they don't get everything they need to succeed for first grade in kindergarten. If I screw up and don't show them how to count by fives correctly, I may as well just have them watching Dora the Explorer all day because at least they'd learn how to cross a bridge and be friends with a monkey or whatever it is she does when she's exploring. Needless to say, probably because I already said it in that textual vomit you just skimmed through, I'm feeling nervous and insecure about my abilities as a teacher and the reasons TFA chose me.

Tomorrow, I'm walking into my classroom and not letting those kids smell fear. I met seven of them on Thursday during Meet the Teacher night. It turns out, they were meeting me. I had a lot of fun with them but I can tell they're going to be a handful. In the best way possible. We're going to play a little and calm our nerves. Them and me. And we're going to look at the calendar and learn the days of the week and sing the August song. And we're going to learn how to line up without pushing or running on our marshmallow toes and that we shouldn't cry or be afraid of the fire drill sirens. Then, I'm going to read The Kissing Hand. I hope it puts them at ease with kindergarten. They'll make cutouts of their own hands with hearts glued on the inside to give to their parents. I'll think about all the places I've left with my hands in my pockets because no one cared to kiss them. But then! A note will fall out of the book and Chester the raccoon will lead us on a tour of the school, which will end on the playground. I'm not sure what the rest of the day will look like just yet because I haven't read through my lesson plans in a few days and that's what I'm procrastinating right now. But we'll do some math and some community circle and then they'll go to specials and home and I'll be freaking out that I'll have 179 more days of failure ahead of me. But that's a terrible attitude. I'll have 179 more days of potential success ahead of me and all my kids because failure is not an option. Because I have to set these kids up for success. Have to.

Miss Thomas is getting ready for Kindergarten. I bought my very own copy of Chicka Chicka Boom Boom. Now, I feel like a real teacher. I will leave this coffee shop shortly and spend time in an internet-free zone when I will have to be more creative in my methods of procrastination. I will set out a sensible but fun outfit and make sure I have all my students' gift bags ready. Then, I'll go through my lesson plans for the millionth time to make sure there's no way I can fail them. Actually, first I think I'll head to Borders to buy the Miss Bindergarten series since I couldn't find it at any of the used books stores. It must be a real gem of a book. Oh, then I'll have to work on creating a unit assessment because TFA said so. I just don't ask questions anymore.

Yesterday, I didn't drink any coffee. It felt great.

Love:

Snack time
Kindergarten
Phoenix rain storms
wi-fi
Fresh fruit
Hugs
Charles in Charge
Macaroni and cheese (even if it is gluten free)

Fears:

Being a bad teacher
Cockroaches
Not being able to speak Spanish
Palo Verde Beetles

To be Determined:

Living alone (for the time being)
Jon lives two hours away
Gluten Free diet
All this alone time.

Needs:

Love
Vacation
Time to write
Hugs

-Theresa

Five Eternally

2010-07-07T21:29:00.005-04:00

When I was five, the summer before first grade, I was a kindergarten teacher. I played school. While the other little girls began promising themselves in sickness and in health to boys in polygamous relationships marked by rings forged of grass, I tried to trap kids in the basement. I was the Sphinx of Marshall St. Anyone who wandered into the maze of our front lawn was ushered down the stairs and into my mother's castaway seating--desks. I pulled out my materials--forgotten items from around the house and toys that had taught my older brother how to read. I didn't have the skinny chalk like my teacher did but my parents wanted to encourage my creativity and time outside, but not too far, so I had an arsenal of sidewalk chalk. Cousins and old classmates became each others peers as I took my place in front of the row of chairs. I took out my chalk and my easel and began deliberately practicing my name and urged others to practice their own. If I had had the choice, I would have spent my summer in that basement, teaching. However, my class rebelled. My arranged marriage was to be held the next day. We would draw the aisle on the cement in the backyard with my classroom chalk. My dreams of teacherdom would be focused down a different path. The next day, I was to be married to my best student with handwriting better than mine, who had already been married the day before.

I am going to be a kindergarten teacher. My formal training for the school I will be at will start on Monday. I don't think I could be happier.

-Theresa

Only Babies Cry

2010-06-29T00:24:00.002-04:00

I keep this in mind as I progress through the proverbial hell that is Institute. It gets harder with each passing day but in other ways it gets easier. I've built a rapport with my CMA (corps member advisor), I have a few friends and I still feel a little directionless. And I think that's okay.

Yesterday, in addition to working on lesson plans, I also made a mix CD for the members of the CMA group I'm in. It was so very therapeutic. Of course, none of these people know how to interpret my CDs and most of them probably won't figure it out but I'm okay with it. It was enough to make the CD.

I'm really enjoying my time teaching. There are the two girls I relate with because they both really enjoy reading. I spend a lot of time talking to them about life and such as well but they're great. And there's the one boy who I keep trying to reach out to but it's difficult when he's sleeping through half the class. It's a challenge and I love it.

The teaching part isn't hard. That's easy. The only thing easier for me is connecting with my students. It's breaking everything down in a manner that is TFA appropriate. That's the problem. I know that I break everything down and I analyze until you all want to punch me in the face as much as I want to punch myself in the face but oh, my goodness, I never knew there would be so many steps to plan a lesson. Gah.

But I do love it. And I definitely see teaching as something I can do forever. I just need a job.

Will everything else just fall into place?

-Theresa

Week One, Down.

2010-06-20T23:08:00.003-04:00

I'll be starting week two of institute tomorrow. I still don't have a real job yet but for summer school, I'm teaching 9th grade English. Pretty excited about that. I don't really have anything to say at the moment other than that I should be keeping better track of what's going on right now and I'm not. I did, however, come up with a classroom theme: Compose Your Future.

We keep track of class progress with a volume dial. Tickets that go out to students for acting properly throughout the day are concert ticket. The bathroom pass is the backstage pass. We keep track of consequences on the score. Raffle tickets students earn are turned in at the box office. If they win the raffle, they get the chance to choose what music we listen to in the morning. I'm pretty excited about it.

I have to finish doing some work now. Which is all I ever say anymore. But I also have to be awake at 4:50 tomorrow. In the morning. That's not a real time, I don't think.

-Theresa

Maybe not.

2010-06-10T20:10:00.003-04:00

Remember how I got sent away from that interview because already hired by a district? Yeah, me too. The schools for that district did their hiring today. I was not even interviewed. So I'm being thrown back into the hiring pool and could end up anywhere. My goal is to keep it together and stay positive. That's all I need to do is stay positive. Since 2002, every corps member has been found a job. So that's promising. I just wanted to be chosen and not be leftovers, you know? And everyone's coming back with jobs. And I'm used to being hard on myself and it being lies about how I'm not good enough and stuff. But this is kind of tangible proof. So I'm going to a Transitional Team Leader dinner in a little bit. That'll be good. So I guess this is TFA.

I'm being flexible. Or trying to.

-Theresa

Maybe I was meant to teach SpEd.

2010-06-10T12:36:00.002-04:00

Here’s the progression of how I’ve ended up where I am right now:

January 2009-- I took a friend to her car and she asked what I was going to do the next year. No idea. She told me her and her husband were moving to Phoenix and were looking for a roommate. I thought about it.

February 2009- I applied for Phoenix Teaching Fellows, a teaching fellowship that requires three years of commitment, while teaching and getting a Master of Education

March 2009—PTF offered me an interview for middle school language arts and told me to start taking tests. Planned a road trip with Nate and Sarah to Phoenix to look at places and take my test.

Mid-March 2009—Got a phone call from PTF saying that all language arts positions had been filled and that I was now being considered for SpEd. I turned the position down but took the certification test anyway. It was too late to get any money back and it was an expensive test.

Next day—Started looking for something new to do. Applied for AmeriCorps.

Two days later—Heard from Sister Carmen who wanted to interview me for AmeriCorps in Phoenix.

One week later (Last week of March)—Drove with Nate and Sarah to Phoenix, took the certification test (passed), met Sister Carmen, found a place to live. I was placed at a school for AmeriCorps.

Fast forward…

July 2009- Move to Phoenix.

July 2009-September 2009-- Sorted things out. (Read: cried a lot.)

September 2009—Start volunteering at school.

September 2009- January 2010—Pull hair out due to frustration with position.

December 2009—Apply to Phoenix Teaching Fellows again.

January 2010—Apply to Teach For America because I want to really make a change and never checked the “interested in teaching special education” box. However, am now considerably less afraid of it.

February 2010—Offered a SpEd position with PTF again. Turn it down because I really wanted TFA.

February 2010- March 2010—Freak out about application and getting accepted and what if I just threw away a job?

March 2010—Got accepted to TFA. For SpEd. Happysad.

At present—I’m finally happy about it. I’m really excited to spend time with kids in SpEd classrooms. One of my friends let me lead a few lessons in her class. A few other teachers let me help them out during the day just to get more exposure. And I’m sure they wanted help. But I’m really excited. SpEd here is a little different than in other places. Given, there are a few self-contained rooms, which is where the students only have classes with each other. But there is a ridiculous amount of funding for SpEd in Phoenix. It comes out of a different fund. So there are at least two resource classes at any given elementary school in the area if they subscribe to that method. Students who are behind grade level are pulled out for four hours a day in order to be taught in a SpEd room. There is a large push toward inclusion, which is where a SpEd teacher and a general education teacher team-teach a class. I have my fingers crossed for one of these but will in no way be disappointed if I’m a resource teacher.

I guess this is what I’m meant to do. I am embracing that notion.

I’m at induction right now, which is the “fun” part of training for TFA. We’ve gone to lots of meetings and I haven’t been barefoot except for sleeping. And that one time I couldn’t handle it anymore. Today, I’m going to a round-up for the Glendale Elementary School District. Supposedly, about 90% of the people going today will get interviews and/or hired. Fingers crossed. I’ve already been chosen by the district. Now, I just need a principal to hire me.

Anyway, I think I’m going to go read that stuff I should’ve been reading since April… Or nap.

-Theresa

Awkward conversation starters

2010-06-04T12:53:00.001-04:00

1. I can't hire you.
2. I've got good news and bad news and it's the same news.
3. Can I live in your house?
4. When is your boyfriend moving in with me?

1. I had an interview yesterday for a school I was getting excited to work at. I was finally excited to teach special ed because I'd be team teaching. The principal is amazing. It's a straight shot from my new apartment and only eight miles away. But another school district hired me about ten minutes before my interview would have started. I don't know what school or what subject but I'll be working at the Glendale Elementary School District. The furthest school from me will be twelve miles away. There's a glimmer of hope that I'll teach general ed instead of special ed. Either way, I'm glad that even though the principal at the school I currently volunteer at doesn't see that I could be an amazing teacher, an entire school district does, without even meeting me.

2. Jon got into med school. He'll be moving to Tucson by the end of July. Knowing that he was moving away, even though it's only two hours away, made me realize how much I actually like him.

3. I moved all my stuff and a bunch of other random stuff from other people into my new apartment. Institute for TFA is at ASU's campus and we have to stay there for about six weeks. I was going to move my stuff to storage but I know my new landlady so she let me move my stuff in, pay a security deposit (which I haven't yet done...) and officially start paying rent when I move in. Which will be the day before I officially start working at a school. So I'm staying with Jon's parents until Tuesday, which is when induction starts and TFA owns my soul, officially.

4. I'll have a new roommate next year. It's a friend's boyfriend. A little awkward. But he's moving here from D.C. and I didn't make enough friends this year. I considered living with another person from TFA since there's going to be a bunch of them moving out this way but decided against it. But I'm the kind of person who brings work home. And it would be bad to live with someone who did the same thing. I don't think I'd ever see the light of day again. Fortunately, my friend's place is much bigger than mine and they're going to have cable. So I'll probably have my own place. He's moving here the last week of August.

Once I start getting paid, I'm going to be taking more trips.

-Theresa

I do as I please

2010-05-11T15:42:00.002-04:00

And now, I'm on my knees.

I haven't felt this... Sad? Lost? Confused? I haven't felt this aware of my surroundings in a while. I miss it and I'm glad it's back but I wish it would go away. I feel haunted by the decisions I have and haven't made. What is it about me that leaves me unsatisfied so much of the time?

Oh, I know. The knowledge that I could be more, should be more and was meant for something better. That's what it is.

In so many ways, I've been lucky. I barely squeak by on a lot of things but I usually squeak by. I made it through high school and then college and at least I have a job. I don't know how many times I went for walks in the dark, let alone in broad (as broad as it can be in Michigan) daylight, alone. Drunk. Sober. Angry. Free. I made it back every time. I got to where I was going. Yes, I was stopped from time to time. Yes, I was followed a time or two. But I made it every time. I squeak by.

I'm sure that a few of you out there have received phone calls from me in some of my more... honest moods. And I'd tell you all the things that I was thinking but seemed crazy. My thoughts seemed too out there but too self-involved. I miss those conversations. Lately, I have those conversations in my head on the drive from here to there or somewhere else but nowhere important. I have these conversations with myself and folks, I give shitty advice. I sure am sorry if I've given you advice and you took it or considered taking it. Just don't listen.

I drink beer to improve my mind[...] to help mankind.

I wouldn't mind a night on the balcony with some beer, a guitar and a friend. I would love it. And then whoever is out there with me, we'd trade stories and tell each other what we really think of each other and talk in frankness and openness and it'd be the best night until the next night like that. I'm rarely at a balcony or a porch much anymore. The last words of honesty spoken to me were on a roof. If I take into consideration all the thoughts rolling around in my oddly tanned head, I'm not sure how important that roof will be.

I'm afraid to talk about the future because what if it's not there? What if I let myself down? What if... What if I never figure it out?

-Theresa

Damn.

2010-05-10T12:32:00.000-04:00

This woman is a girl I volunteer with. I can't stop thinking about it.

Wish me luck

2010-05-06T17:17:00.002-04:00

I know you think I'll need it.

I've come here with no real intention other than to write. My emotions are lacking. I don't have to sort them out because I know things now rather than feeling things. While I'm less crazy because of this, I'm not quite me. Being crazy has its downside but for the most part, it's how I've learned to function. And you know, it was working if we forget about all the crying jags and fear of driving. Okay, so it wasn't working. But I kind of liked the process of sorting through my emotions. It really helped me sort through things that did or didn't happen. But now, I just have facts and circumstances. How do I know what to feel if I'm not overwhelmed by emotion? I think what I'm saying is that... Well, I'm not sure what I'm saying. Maybe I'm just reflecting in a way I said I didn't much anymore.

Some humans ain't human.

I'm going to be a teacher. Weird. I couldn't even keep a third grader from stabbing a second grader with a pencil. Shit.

Seven or so months. And I understand what I've critisized for so long. Perfect? No. Good? Yes.

This post lacks a significant amount of profundity. I can't find it.

It's getting hot in Phoenix. The oranges have already blossomed and the fruit doesn't smell as sweet as the flower. I hate air conditioning. But I sure do love balconies. Regardless, I'd give up any pool to be by a natural water source. I often miss the life of a hippie. In all fairness, I'm rarely not barefoot.

It's funny: I feel that many of my emotions have been evading me but I constantly feel overwhelmed with guilt.

But I know, it'll be alright.

-Theresa

Screw California

2010-03-22T15:47:00.002-04:00

And friends that are never there.

Important (relatively) bits of information and possible explanations:

I got into TFA. I'm going to be a teacher. I am so happy. I'm happy that I got it but more notably, I'm happy that I get to be a teacher. I think it's something I could love for the rest of my life. Summer training institute starts in June and after, I find out what school and grade I'll be teaching. I know this: I'll be teaching somewhere in K-8 Special Education in Phoenix or its surrounding areas. My hope is that I'll be a reading specialist. I'll be getting my Masters in Education from Arizona State University. I'm applying for loans and praying for grants. I'll be living in Phoenix for at least two more years.

I don't think I'll ever be a California girl. Well, maybe Northern California. But definitely not a city California girl. San Diego was nice to visit in December. San Francisco was as I left it three years ago: not for me. Carmel was absolutely amazing. It's the type of town I could see myself living in were I to write a fictional tale of my life. Water and natural beauty and art and grass for my toes and a breeze.

I've been in a relationship for just over six months now. Things are going well. We don't use the love-word, which is okay with me because I scare easily.

My hearing isn't what it used to be since getting an ear infection a couple years ago. I'm starting to fear that I'll go deaf as I get older and not be able to enjoy music as much. My dad is starting to.

I'm still not sure where I belong. By becoming a teacher, I think I'm on the right path. While the weather is nice during the winter, I'm not sure Phoenix is the place for me. Any guesses on where the place for me is?

-Theresa

In time, she's beautiful

2010-03-01T12:35:00.002-05:00

If you hold her back, she may never know.

My goodness, time does fly.

It's March. MARCH. What happened to the misery of August? Man, am I glad that misery is gone. In seven days I find out the judgement of TFA. In one week, I find out what I am or am not doing for the next two years of my life. Or my whole life, I suppose.

The interview went decently. I think I did well on the teaching portion of it. I taught about the difference between the three types of triangles (equilateral, isoseles, scalene) in five minutes. That's not very much time. I thought that went pretty well though. I had practiced a million times. The individual interview wasn't terrible but I'm not ever sure how I do. I only got confused by a question once. I hope that doesn't hurt me. The fact that I'm in the type of schools they send new teachers to and I want to stay there says a lot, I think. TFA thinks too, I think. AmeriCorps pays very little and I put in quite a bit of time. I haven't worked less than fifty hours a week since December. I have my fingers crossed. The first thing I'm going to do is look for housing. And then I'm going to make a new budget. Well, I'll probably drink a few clebretory beers here and there. If I don't get in, I'll be drinking a few consolatory beers. And I'll be trying to figure out what to do next. A second year of AmeriCorps never killed anyone, right?

If I get in, it's Phoenix, Denver or the Bay Area. I considered a few other places but I guess I settled for those. I haven't lived in Phoenix long enough to love or hate it. I'm not sure I actually want to live in the Bay Area. I think we all know my feelings on Denver.

The rest:

Five months and counting, it seems.
I cooked for ten hours on Saturday and I'd do it again in a second.
I regularly drive on the freeway but still drive more than an hour a day.
TFATFATFATFATFATFATFA.
There isn't a feeling I haven't eaten in the last few months.
I miss sleeping through the night.
And feeling rested.
Stephanie comes to visit in a week.
Justin and Natalie come to visit 8 April.
SUPER EXCITED.
FATFATFATFATFATFATATFAT.
Thyroids are stupid.
So are strange skin discolorations.
How do you define settling?
I would drink anything out of a mason jar.

-Theresa

So can we take the next hour

2010-01-31T16:44:00.003-05:00

and talk about me?

I've made it through the first two rounds for Teach For America. I submitted my essays and application and whatnot and then I got a phone interview. In eleven days, I have my final interview to go to. I'm excited and a little scared. The three sites I have listed as number one are Phoenix, Denver and the Bay Area. There are more places I would love to go but I ended up choosing those. I'm getting anxious trying to prepare. I really want this.

I've never really had an easy time making decisions. I think I'm getting better.
I'm getting the itch to start traveling again.
I love gardening.
And being barefoot.
The future doesn't seem intimidating. Just a little daunting.
I'm hardly a grown-up.

-Theresa

Last night,

2010-01-04T11:51:00.002-05:00

I couldn't sleep. A year ago, I wouldn't.

I had all these crazy dreams and now I can't seem to remember them. I would wake up at random times with a sudden urge to be doing something else--anything else. But now, it's just kind of tapping me on the shoulder. My urge to do something bigger is not silenced but it is muffled for the time being. Maybe because I'm doing something kind of big by volunteering for a year. More likely, because I'm making better choices and working toward something.

I am five hundred words away from submitting my Teach For America application. They capitalize the "f" in for and shouldn't. That's all I think of when I see it written out. That and how much I want to be part of the program.

I thought about the pants I wore last New Year's Eve. I changed out of them this New Year's Eve even though my ass fits in them so much better now. I want a new start. I guess there was just something too symbolic about wearing those pants to enter into two different new years. What is it about the first of every year that gives people the delusion that things will change the second the clocks switch over? Whatever it is, it's magical and I kind of like it. Goodbye, 2009. Joyful doesn't accurately describe what it was like seeing you go.

As much as I didn't want to come to work this morning, I'm very thankful to be here. Here at work, in Phoenix and at this point in my life. I've learned quite a bit, I'm sure. Could I tell you what? Probably in a carefully worded essay. But not yet. Not really. I'm not sure what I've learned. Just that I've learned something. And not after making mistakes this time. That's new for me.

Resolution: Don't make promises you (I) can't keep.

-Theresa

My Birthday was Two Days Ago.

2009-11-13T18:19:00.004-05:00

And this is my 100th post.

I know I think this every year for every age, but I don't know what twenty-four is supposed to feel like. So far, it's better than twenty-three. So far, it's different.

Twenty-three gave me these gifts:

Two road trips
The Avett Brothers
Surgery
Eight bloody months. (Gross, I know.)
Hashimoto's Thyroiditis
New Year's Day
Hives
Loneliness
Marita (Although, I suppose that was 22)
An AmeriCorps position
Sadness
Acceptance
Celexa
Self-Reliance
Justin and Natalie
A boyfriend
Zombieland
Visits from Triina

Twenty-three was a bitter sweet year. My birthday party was a concert. I fear that most of the people at that party are people I may never see again. But that's growing up, isn't it?

Twenty-Four has given me these gifts so far:

No cold until after my birthday
A growing support system
A boyfriend's parents
Potential road trips
Two upcoming Avett Brothers shows
A visit to come from Stephanie and my sister
A growing like for Phoenix
People who let me down less than I let myself down.

I know I have more to learn and experience. I'm aware of that. But Twenty-Four has so much more promise than Twenty-Three ever did. Shortly before leaving Kalamazoo, I took an informal survey of about ten people. All of them said that twenty-three was a bad year. In no way am I glad to hear that I'm not the only one.

Dear friends,

I still miss you.

-Theresa

Yesterday was Zac Hanson's birthday.

2009-10-23T11:36:00.004-04:00

So, it's about that time. You know, where I start to feel a little guilty for not having updated in awhile. More, I feel guilty for not having written in a little while. Sort of. Here's an up to date list of truths:

I don't hate Arizona nearly as much as I used to.
This has largely to do with the fact that I started working.
And I have friends now.
One of those friends happens to be my boyfriend.
Yes, it weirded me out to actually write that.
I still don't know what I want to do with my life.
My job is getting better with each day because I've asked for stuff to do.
I'm not sure the thyroid medicine is working but the crazy pills certainly are.
I haven't cried in over a month.
The last time I could say that was a long time ago.
My range of emotions is fairly limited at this present time.
I'm not sure I really like that.
I'm really glad that I've made myself be a person who tries to make the best of every situation.
Do I want to be a teacher?
The high temperatures were in the eighties for a week and it was perfect.
I wish I could run my toes in the grass.
The winter grass is growing but it still houses roaches.
I met my first scorpion a few days ago.
I still don't like them.
There are multiple cases of the flu (regular and swine varieties) at my school.
I haven't changed anything I do for that.
I love probiotics.
I still miss my scattered friends.
The friendships I have cultivated here lack a certain amount of depth.
I still don't know how to be in a relationship.
I've become one of those people that stops to say hello to every dog I meet.
Before acknowledging the owner.
I've driven on the freeway quite a few times now.
Alone (not following anyone and with no one else in the car) too.
These schools make me sad.
These kids deserve better.
I'm tired all the time.
In fact, I wish I was asleep right now.
But all in all, my life is pretty good right now.
And I believe I'm making the most of it.

-Theresa

Dear Body, (Part III)

2009-08-29T16:19:00.005-04:00

I've been sitting on these words for awhile because I just wasn't sure what was going to happen. But I have to tell you, I never thought I'd be so happy to hear "you have an autoimmune disease." A few days ago, I was going to sit down and yell at you for having such ridiculous problems that no doctor could seem to piece together. But one finally did. Body, I was too distracted by what was going on in my head to pay full attention to you. Oh, of course I was still annoyed with you. But I think you already knew that. So I went to see Miss Head Doctor and man did she seem mean with all those blood tests she ordered. AND THEN ONE MORE. But that last one did the trick. That last one said all the crazy in you and in my head was largely because there's a problem with my thyroid. I'M CRAZY FOR A REASON! No one ever gets to say that and not be blaming someone else. I want to thank you, Body. Not for causing all those problems but... No, I don't want to thank you. That was a mean thing to do.

Body, we've been through a lot this year. Hey, it wasn't my idea to cut you open and poke around. I was just fine with saying "no" anytime I was asked if I'd had a surgery. I think this year will forever be known as The Year I Bled. Literally and metaphorically, it seems. It was the year I finally decided to take care of myself and you rather than just being in fight or flight mode all the time. I understand that you're probably as fed up with me as I am with you, Body. I totally get that. I'd been running you on an average of thirty hours of sleep a week and a diet that mostly consisted of cheap coffee and cheaper food. I've tried to rectify that in more recent months. I slept more, stopped drinking coffee for the most part and went gluten free. That didn't work. Because you're a jerk. Okay, so it's not entirely your fault. The nice Family Doctor said that you have something called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis. She could tell because one of your thyroid hormones was way off the charts. The normal level is supposed to be under 35. Yours was 780.

The symptoms:

Fatigue (check)
Drowsiness (check)
Forgetfulness (check)
Depression (check)
Difficulty with learning (It's been awhile)
Dry, brittle hair and nails (Okay, you don't have this one. Yay!)
Dry, itchy skin (Not really a check either)
Puffy Face (check)
Belly problems (check)
Sore muscles (check)
Weight Gain (this was a check until the gluten free thing)
Sensitivity to cold (check)
Menstrual problems (CHECK.)

That nice Head Doctor said that my symptoms sounded like depression but weren't fully consistent and that's why she ordered that extra blood test. Body, I want to say I'm sorry for all that yelling I did and all those mean things I said. I meant them at the time but I was just really frustrated. The Family Doctor said I have to take a pill a day for the rest of my life. As my peace offering to you, Body, I'm going to take that pill and I'm not going to complain. So, get better damn it. The best part about that pill is that it has a generic so that even when I don't have insurance anymore, it still only costs $4 a month. I know it's not entirely your fault either. It turns out that Hashimoto's is hereditary. Do you know what my dad said when I called to tell him what was wrong, Body? Of course you do. You were there. "Oh, your mom has that too. And I think my doctor said I have it too. And your sister might have it too." I didn't know any better, Body. It seems my family didn't think to tell me THEY HAVE A HEREDITARY DISEASE THAT CAUSES ALL THE SYMPTOMS I HAD. You and me, we made do with what we had.

I'm going to stick with the gluten free thing. It does make me feel better. Plus, I now weigh as much as I did in high school. Now, even though I'm making you be gluten free, I'll happily give you as much beer as you want, Body. And I do hope that's a lot of beer. I'm going to take that pill everyday. I'm going to try and get you normal amounts of sleep but you're going to have to meet me halfway on that one and stop being so tired all the time. It's just not fair. I want to do things. I kind of need your help with that one. I might not take a second job. I don't really need it. I mean, I did in the month of August but that's over in a couple days. I like weekends. It'll be good. I'll shave your legs every now and then and maybe we can go swimming in October or something. Yeah, I'd do that for you. Body, we've really got to work together. We could have a good thing going for us, I think. If it's less hair you want, I can do something about that. I was thinking about going out and buying you new pants today. You deserve them. Body, I do want to thank you for having something easy to fix wrong with you. I know it could've been much worse. An autoimmune disease sounds scary but it seems like an easy fix. We've been through so much more together, Body. We can totally do this. Let's do this.

Most Sincerely,

Theresa

Who put this breadth

2009-08-15T23:56:00.004-04:00

behind my perspective?

I went to a Southern Baptist church last week and kind of liked it. It was the friendliest group of worshipers I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. It was quite obvious that they had a "greet the visitor" thing going but they were very welcoming. The music was okay and the message wasn't anything especially profound. But it's churches that I've been to that have made me this jaded, I think. Any true word of Jesus should be profound. I'm going back because of how friendly the people were. I've bonded with a septuagenarian named Irene. She took me to lunch and convinced me I should come back the following week (tomorrow). So I will. Because I didn't do any research on any other churches and that's just fine. I don't need an edgy church. I just need Jesus.

I've made a few friends out here. Mostly, they're friends of my roommates but they're starting to be friends of mine as well. I'm learning what it means to be an introvert. I hate it. I really like being with people. I like feeling busy. I enjoy it. But I've always known it.

The psychiatrist put me on medication and had a fancy way of saying "your family has a history of bipolar disorder and depression so I can't just call this something simple." It hasn't kicked in just yet but I am starting to feel a little less helpless each day. That's good. That's what it's supposed to do. I just have to keep reminding myself that asking for help isn't giving up. With this situation or any other.

Operation Get-Over-It is in full effect.

-Theresa

Sitting on the balcony

2009-08-08T21:53:00.003-04:00

But I'm not making any promises.

I spend most of my days alone these days. That's the hard part. That's what hard about being here. I love being around people and talking and communicating and sharing. And I'm not getting to do that. So why don't I? It's hard being in a new city alone. Legitimately alone. I'm not talking about being a part of a married couple and both of you being alone. I'm talking about being the only connection to yourself. I am the only person here who knows me for who I am. I want to change that. I do. But how? I think I'll go to a new church tomorrow. I might go to a show tonight. I should be able to drive within a couple of hours.

It's not hard having nothing to do if you have someone to share that experience with. It's not nothing then. It's a shared experience. I don't have those right now. Yesterday, I spent a drive being made fun of for reactions I can't control. That's what I have. I have letters I write because it gives me something to do. It's a level of communication. Today, I wrote one letter. I don't do well with bored. I don't do well with lonely. I'm hardly doing well.

Tomorrow, I'll go to a new church. I might write new letters. I'll think about buying groceries. I'll reconsider. I'll think about playing guitar. Or doing laundry. Tomorrow, I have another chance at a new start that I seem to be having such a hard time putting into action. Monday, I have a job interview. The training doesn't start until September.

I need to get out of this place.

Yeah, where?

It's okay. I'm not here. I'm on my way out. God, I hope I'm on my way out. I BETTER BE ON MY WAY OUT.

Yes, I've been drinking. But that's not a fair assessment. I've been praying. And I've been hoping. And I was really hoping it would get me somewhere. No, it will. Maybe not right now. But it will.

At this point, I can only think that getting over you would be the better choice. In this case, what good is hope doing? None. Yes, I miss you. Yes, I've told you. I'm afraid to call you because what if you don't answer? Then, I'll know. It's the best timing you could've hoped for. I reached out. And I still don't know what I'm grasping for. If you want me to wait, I will. If you want me to move on, I'll certainly try. But couldn't you just tell me? Just tell me where I stand.

I would say I couldn't handle this. I would. But I seem to be. I wouldn't say I'm doing fine. Because, clearly, I'm not. But I'm surviving. And that seems to be enough.

Keep it together. Keep. It. Together.

I hate it here.

Metaphorical.

Literal.

Does it matter?

I didn't think so.

I recognize your voice immediately. But we both know that's not enough. I'd keep writing but I've said too much. Tomorrow, I may go through this again and take it away. Like it would make a difference.

-Theresa

Take your hands out of pockets

2009-08-07T00:43:00.004-04:00

and hold me.

You may or may not know these things:

I've been in Arizona for two weeks and one day.
I haven't "adjusted" yet.
That's my cop out way of saying I think I might've made a mistake in moving here.
I've never been on a date.
Of the two guys I "dated" in high school, one is gay and the other is married.
I get complimented most on my skin lately.
I've spent a lot of my life being told I was fat and ugly.
I have a hard time believing otherwise because of it.
I'm seeing a psychiatrist on Monday.
It makes me sad because I think I need to.
I have never had so much nothing to do in my life as I do right now.
I've spent most of my life being busy so I wouldn't have to think too much.
The last "good" night of sleep I had was on a Saturday afternoon almost four weeks ago.
Things are what you make of them.
Things are what you make of them, baby.
~~I worry that I'm never going to be enough.~~
I worry that I'm never going to feel like I'm enough.
I think my mom did a good job teaching me what she needed to for me to be a good wife.
The liberal college student in me isn't supposed to feel that way.
I want to feel like I belong.
Like I'm necessary.
Wanted.
How did I take so many steps backward?
I know I'm supposed to, but I don't really like Daniel Johnston all that much.
For three days this week, I worked for free.
I didn't mind much because it gave me something to do.
I miss having people to talk to about God.
My life story is starting to feel manufactured and impersonal.
It's okay, I stopped reading too.

-Theresa

Hey, Arizona.

2009-07-30T21:36:00.004-04:00

Well, I'm still here. And so far, I'm not impressed. Really, it's that I miss the level of comfort created by a relatively steady income and friends. I miss knowing where I'm going and knowing where I can go. Okay, and I kind of miss long sleeves. I'm trying to make the best out of this situation. I am. I'm applying for jobs. I'm driving around. I'm looking stuff up when I have internet access. I'm trying. But it's really hard to make friends while not working or going to school. Put me near people and I'll make friends. But when there's no one I know but the people I live with, it's difficult.

And I sound like I'm whining.

I don't think I made a mistake coming out here yet. I just wish I didn't feel this way. I'm considering a fast food job just so I have somewhere to go during the day until my job starts. Anyone want to fly out and play? I'm pretty much free until September. I hear flights are really cheap right now. If I had the money, I'd fly to you. But that seems a little like giving up at this point. Although, I'm still considering the four Colorado shows in as many days thing.

I should've moved to Colorado.

-Theresa

I'm leaving Michigan

2009-07-25T19:56:00.002-04:00

With my heart on my sleeve.

"My wife and my friends, we became a family here."

I'm in Tempe now. And how am I doing? I'm adjusting. I don't think I've ever had an especially difficult time with change but I'm having a difficult time this time. More than I expected I would, anyway. It's because I'm not busy. My job doesn't start until September. You had better believe I'm going to get a second job. I'm having trouble staying asleep in the morning and awake at night.

The heat doesn't bother me. It just doesn't feel like home. I guess I wasn't expecting it to but I was hoping to have a place that felt like home by now. And I guess I do; they're in Colorado.

I miss you more than I care to admit. But what am I supposed to do with that?

The sun is constantly shining out here. And I don't mind. But I've always found that the most beautiful pictures also have shadows. Somehow, even the night is too bright. I'm not complaining. I think I'll grow to enjoy the life I have year. And if I don't, it's only a year.

It's just... Shouldn't I know who I am by now? At least a little?

People I hardly know read my face. They read what it said and they understood the general sentiment. Regardless, I didn't take the time to correct the errors in translation.

I suspect that I'll feel more stable when I'm distracted during the day. I have a meeting on Tuesday to sort of figure out what I'll be doing at work. Monday, I think I'm going to go get a second job. I just don't feel like I belong here yet.

I might spend the rest of the evening writing letters. But I also want to go see 500 Days of Summer.

Soon, I'll try to have a more substantial update. We don't have internet at the apartment. It may take longer than I would like. Anyway, thanks for any encouragement you've thrown my way. Know that I've needed and appreciated it.

Greensky Bluegrass is playing in Mesa at the end of August. A little piece of home.

-Theresa

In our days, we will live

2009-07-13T22:09:00.003-04:00

like our ghosts will live.

I am never so comforted by discomfort as when I am with you. There is always more to say but no need to. There is always more to understand. More to feel and see and want. But no need to.

I know what I would say now.

To be loved.

But me? To feel loved.

-Theresa

He's winning on the telephone

2009-07-09T23:22:00.004-04:00

I maybe shouldn't post right now. But I need to do something to distract myself from everything that's going on. I kind of want to talk or be around people but there's no one around. My roommate is gone for the night with her now-husband. Most of the people I want to see are not anywhere close, busy or asleep. I need someone comfortable right now. Someone who would pray with me instead of asking questions I don't know the answers to. I need someone to talk to me and tell me that it will all work out for the best, even if it won't. Instead, I have a lease on an apartment that echoes because the furniture is gone.

When I get a mosquito bite, I can't tell until about fifteen hours later. My head knows that I was surrounded by mosquitos and my extremities were exposed so I was bound to have a bite or two even if I can't feel it. The problem is there but I can't tell yet. It's my body's delayed response. Eventually, I realize what happened and I'm really better off not knowing. I start to itch so I start to scratch. And I scratch and scratch and scratch until it doesn't really feel that good anymore but I just have to. I have to keep going because if I stop, it itches again and I'd rather scratch than itch.

You are my mosquito bite.

I feel ill at ease and out of place.

-Theresa

Brand, brand new

2009-07-01T13:01:00.003-04:00

For Christmas last year, I included a mix CD with the gifts I gave my immediate family. My dad has mentioned a few times over the last few months that he still listens to it and it still trying to figure out exactly what I was trying to say. That was the point, I guess. I picked each song for a reason. It's how I make all my mix CDs. It's why they take so long to make.

I digress. I guess he sort of figured out what I was trying to say. He sent me a seven page poem in the mail to let me know. A friend I hadn't seen in a while came over right after I read it (coincidence) and I hadn't wiped all the tears off my face yet. By far, this is the best gift I have ever received. My dad understands.

Small excerpts:

"Music has been my salvation,
but don't tell Jesus."

"I've never loved December.
The truth be told,
I have a harder time with June."

"When we meet again,
we can compare notes."

"You're anything but ordinary.
A distinct and unique
Individual."

"So whoever will love you
should always
count their blessings.
Sort of like I count mine
when I think of your mother.
So whoever loves you
will dwell in triumph
and abandon their pain.
Whoever loves you
will wonder where you were
all of his life."

"Time for honesty.
Remember honesty?
I'll miss you.
But there's worse things
than that.
Like seeing an open door
that is meant for you
but never entered.
Enter!!!
Live. Right. Now."

I love my dad.

-Theresa

Dumbed down and numbed

2009-06-25T14:28:00.002-04:00

By time and age.

Today's list of facts:

My roommate gets married in thirteen days.
I'm going to Manistee, MI for 4 July weekend.
I'm not sure if that's a good idea yet.
I feel like I'm being replaced.
Does that really matter if I'm leaving?
I wrote a bit yesterday.
I went to a show alone last night and wrote a whole lot more.
If I played guitar well enough, the fragments I wrote would become songs.
I've been drinking Kava Cool Complex.
It works well enough that I wonder if I need something stronger.
I thought The Crazy had leveled off.
I forgot that going off of birth control has just as many side effects as being on it.
I've been doing the gluten free thing for a little while now and I definitely feel better.
This is my second-to-last Thursday of work in Kalamazoo.
I miss having someone to talk to about Jesus.
I miss days of prayer.
I miss you.
The pieces of a million puzzles have come together at the same time and I'm doing my best to figure out what goes where.
Even though I rarely see my family now, I'm going to miss randomly being able to catch rides to see them.
Moving to Arizona is finally starting to seem like a good idea.
I don't know where I belong. Or how or with whom or if I do at all.
There's supposed to be a going away party for me but it's just another summer excuse to drink.
I don't really like Dave Matthews all that much.
Every time I admit that, I feel like I'm committing a sin.
If you ask me to tell you who I am, I don't know that I would be able to do it.

In your words, I begin to understand myself. Please, don't take them away.

-Theresa

I could be

2009-06-23T18:11:00.004-04:00

There's no limit to the things we can and cannot not be. Right?

I could be:

a teacher.
alive forever.
a writer.
someone with a career.
a best friend.
somewhere else.
anywhere else.
a wife.
a mother.
less intimidating.
in love.
better.
a strong swimmer.
taller.
tall.
better dressed.
alive at all.

I have these plans to start something new. I'm going to follow through with them. My head is full of words and words and sentiments. They keep me company.

-Theresa

Make your own kind of music...

2009-06-20T11:16:00.004-04:00

We use all sorts of factors to try and define the world and people around us. I never get more confused than when I have to answer the question "So what kind of music do you like?" It's not a particularly difficult question to answer. I know what I like when I hear it. But it is hard to define with a word or two. So I've stopped trying.

These are my preferences:

I prefer the sound of stringed instruments over wind instruments. Even though I was in band for nine years and played a variety of wind instruments in that time, I am more drawn to the sound of strings. Piano counts. However, I will probably turn into a puddle at the sound of a well-played bassoon or oboe. That being said, I love strings and double reed winds.

While it is the sound of a song that draws me in, it is good lyrical composition that holds my attention.

I have more respect for musicians who write their own music and lyrics than those who don't.

When it comes to bass, I prefer upright over electric and bowed over plucked.

Similarly, I prefer acoustic guitar over electric. However, I appreciate strummed songs just as much as picked ones.

I like songs without a chorus but don't necessarily prefer them.

If someone's song seems earnest but doesn't sound the best, I appreciate the effort and probably like it. (See: Paul Baribeau.)

A voice breaking in a song automatically earns it points if only for the singer's sincerity while singing.

Strong vocals are good vocals. But they are not necessary.

I've never met a song with cello accompaniment I didn't like.

Fast or slow doesn't matter as long as the tempo matches the intent of the song. Regardless, I like sad songs that sound happy and happy songs that sound sad.

I do prefer the sound of a strong melody over rapping or screaming however, I do like some rap and some hardcore.

I prefer real percussion instruments over drum machines, even if it's just a xylophone.

I was raised on Peter, Paul & Mary and will always appreciate their music. However, I think they sound better on vinyl than mp3.

There is no style of music I don't like.

If I tried, I could say that my favorite kind of music at the moment is indie-folk but that's not a full definition.

Off the top of my head and with no filter, these are the bands I can remember seeing live in the order I can remember: Peter, Paul & Mary, Hanson, Backstreet Boys, Nine Inch Nails, Tool, A Perfect Circle, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Avett Brothers, Michael Beauchamp, Garbage, Alanis Morissette, Mates of State, Chris Bathgate, Breathe Owl Breathe, Queens of the Stoneage, Ben Folds, Rufus Wainwright, Guster, The Fray, Ben Lee. There are more, I'm sure. It's not a very wide variety but it's wide enough that they don't all fall into the same category. Yes, I'm a little embarrassed by some of those. But not Hanson.

My ears tend to lean toward male vocals but not always. (Regina Spektor, Tegan and Sara, A Fine Frenzy, Rilo Kiley, Loretta Lynn...)

"A good song" is defined as a song that makes me feel things.

While there are some bands I don't have a taste for, I appreciate all types of music.

While there are distinguishing characteristics of the music I tend to prefer, I have a difficult time choosing just one type of music I like because I like so much of it. So if you ask me what type of music I like, I may tell you that I don't know. If I respond with "a little of everything," I sort of believe that.

-Theresa

Few words could open me

2009-06-15T19:57:00.004-04:00

But you knew them all.

I'm as confused as you are about what happened. But I didn't make any assumptions. And I didn't take any action. And I've made no reaction. The hang up is that I'm as genuinely confused as you say you are.

I wasn't angry. I'm still not angry. I could define what I am now as hurt. I could but I won't. There are no winners or losers in this situation. You declared your confusion with practiced strikes of a keyboard. I understood that "..." meant that you wanted some sort of response. You wanted closure or reconciliation. I refused to give you either. All I wanted to do was tear you down and I made promises to myself that I wouldn't do that anymore. I'm no longer in the habit of blaming others for the things that happen involving me. I'm no longer in the habit of blaming myself. Though you and I are no longer friends, elation doesn't begin to describe the feeling of again speaking to someone whose loss I didn't understand. I understand now. I am comforted by my decisions to neither tear you down nor offer friendship. While I do not hold your actions against you, I don't want you in my life. And I think that's okay.

While I could say these things to you instead of typing them here, I won't. While these words are not hidden and could be considered a passive-aggressive gesture, I believe you already know all these things are true. On some level, you understand.

It feels like I'm running away. But I'm not. I have to keep reminding myself of that. Just because I'm happy to leave things behind does not mean it was not the natural course to take. Yes, I'm leaving Kalamazoo and moving to Tempe. But it's because my heart is not in this place. And I know what that means.

I know where to be looking. Why am I not?

-Theresa

Grab the Kids and the Cats

2009-06-08T17:25:00.003-04:00

And let's go.

I had thought The Crazy had leveled off. Yesterday, in a moment of weakness and frustration, I found myself curled in a ball, eating Mexican dip, trying not to cry while watching a Nickelodeon movie I had rented from the library. Ah, let the good times roll. Rather than waiting for my real life to begin, perhaps I'll just attack the life I have head on and demand the best out of it. By putting the best of myself into it. While feeling sorry for myself last night, I wondered what of me there was left. Dramatic, I know. Ten hours of sleep helped a lot.

I've been reading quite a few teen books lately. Books written for a fifteen year-old aren't much different than books written for adults. I suppose there's only really one storyline to follow as opposed to multiple ones. To be perfectly honest, I don't need multiple story lines. There's enough going on in my head. And I read lots of "smart books" when I was in school. And even after I graduated. But my mind needs a break. I'm happily reading The Princess Diaries series by Meg Cabot. I'd heard many good things about it. The main character is in her teens and even though I'm not a princess or a princess in training, I still worry about the same things: The food I eat, the people I consider friends and for the love of God, why are boys so stupid? I also finished The Giver today. I don't know how, in all my years of education, I managed to miss that book. I shouldn't give in to the Sameness. But I suppose that's never been my problem.

I really enjoyed my guitar lesson this week. My left hand hurt a lot afterward. We worked on picking. More specifically Freight Train and The Ballad of Love and Hate. I still suck. A lot. But I'm loving every minute of it. I'm going to miss these Thursday nights.

Things I'm worried about:

Driving to Arizona.
Having saved enough money for the two months I'll be unemployed.
Actually moving.
Worrying too much.
Packing.
My appointment with another specialist in July.
The Crazy.

Things will get better. This is just a valley. ~~Right?~~

-Theresa

Everything Trying

2009-05-30T10:30:00.002-04:00

I couldn't fall asleep last night. And then when I finally fell asleep, I couldn't stay asleep. I woke up at five from a dream that shouldn't have seemed as bad as it seemed. Heart racing.

I don't know if I actually hurt you but if I did, I'm sorry. I rarely defend myself in circumstances such as these but you gave me nothing to go on. I acted. I reacted. I tried to move on. Someone else offered me something Good. And it seemed like it would be good. So I chose to follow a path that I thought might make me happy. Regardless of the fact that everything in me told me not to. I needed a little something to go on. I made the wrong choice. I know it. Now. But I have to tell you, it felt pretty good to make a choice. I mean, it didn't feel so great when that choice later came back to haunt me. Continues to haunt me. Words mean just as much to me as actions. I am sorry. I did what made the most sense at the time. I won't make excuses. I guess I already did.

I realize what drives me is love. Love for friends and family and life and Things That Matter. It's what keeps me going. Even in times and places when it seems there is a severe lack of love, I am driven to pour more love into the world. Because of this pseudo-pursuit of love, I often find myself empty. I put too much in. But is that possible? Is it possible to put too much love into the world? I don't think so. I think, however, that not all love is unconditional and that not everything that looks like love is love. I'm not saying I'm a great person. I get angry and sad and I often have to talk myself into not falling apart. Sometimes I don't agree with my boss or my parents. I use a microwave to heat up rice. I don't always drink my coffee black. I think steak is DELICIOUS. But never, NEVER have I kicked a puppy. In fact, if the option is available, I will always rub a puppy's belly as long as said puppy wants a belly rub. What's my point? Even if our intentions are good, even if the things that drive us are inherently good, our actions are not always pure or perfect. I am not perfect. I will never be. But I am learning. I am learning to be better. You know, again. Or still. And I am trying. I am learning what love is and isn't and is supposed to be. I mean, maybe it's taken the process of elimination to teach me, but everyone learns differently.

I know I've learned things about myself this year. I don't know what those things are but I'm sure it will hit me at the most inconvenient time possible. Maybe I should just buy a GPS for my car and drive to Arizona alone. That will give me lots of processing time. I just really prefer talking to people more than I do robots.

-Theresa

Looking for Inspiration

2009-05-26T12:42:00.003-04:00

Reasons why doctors are full of shit:

or

How if the doctor had done a blood test, we could know what's wrong with me:

Last night I went to bed with a few suspicious looking spots on my left hand. This morning I woke up with many, many more suspicious spots covering my extremeties. The spots are spreading and getting worse. They're on my belly and neck now. What does this have to do with the doctor and lack of a blood test? I think I have a systemic infection. One of the many symptoms is allergic reactions to things you're not actually allergic to. I haven't introduced any new food into my diet recently. Although, I did reintroduce Doritos. Those so don't count as new. Or food. I'm itchy all over but I'm breathing just fine aside for the waning (hopefully) cough of death. The thing about the infection is that it causes all these symptoms that look like other things but are just symptoms of the infection. And then it looks like everything is unrelated but isn't. So cough and allergic reaction and feeling crazy and all that other stuff is probably connected. If I'm right.

I guess I'm just frustrated.

Arizona update? Umm... Still don't have anyone to drive with. I haven't set a leaving date yet. Just some time after 8 July and before September. I want to stop in Little Rock and Dallas for sure. Probably Chicago too. It's a fifteen hour drive from Dallas to Phoenix. I never saw myself living in Arizona. But I'm going to make the most of it. It's a new start. I've learned that that doesn't mean that my problems won't follow me. They only define me as much as I let them.

All witticisms aside? I know I screwed up. I am sorry. But I think I told you that. I miss you. More than I would soberly admit.

-Theresa

My life is different now, I swear

2009-05-16T09:42:00.006-04:00

I bought tickets to see The Avett Brothers. It's going to be at the Frederik Meijer Gardens in Grand Rapids, which is pretty exciting because I like outdoor shows. And The Avett Brothers.

I think I know what's wrong with me. I read two websites and two books and now, I think I may be an expert on the matter. All they needed to do was run a blood screen. Which they didn't do because they decided to run the STD screen instead. Which was SO NOT NECESSARY. I printed off some charts to fill out so I can show my doctor how all the strange and seemingly unconnected things wrong with my body are all very connected. Even the stupid cough of death. I've decided to self-medicate through nutrition. This means no (okay, less) drinking (for a bit), lots of probiotics, stopping my current medication (it's okay, the doctor gave me that option) and cutting down sugars as much as possible. It sounds like a freakish diet but I think if I stick with it for a few weeks, I may even get better without treatment. My post-op appointment is 29 May. Just a couple more weeks. I'm hoping this works because I'll have different insurance once I start my Americorps position and I don't think they do preexisting conditions.

I still need to find people to drive with me to Arizona. It was going to be my roommate and her sister but my roommate is getting married and moving to Little Rock. Hey, want to drive with me to Arizona?

I can clearly see myself not living in the U.S. I'm not sure where. I've got to think that all these weather extremes are preparing me for something. I'm trying to look forward to Arizona. In preparation, I've decided to try and learn Spanish again. Yesterday, while helping patrons, I realized I can still understand what people are saying to me but I have trouble finding the words to respond. Story of my life.

Dear Guitar-I've-Had-for-a-While-and-Still-Haven't-Named,

I'm sorry I have not spent enough time with you lately. It's just that it hurt to sit up for a couple weeks in there. Now that my belly is mostly healed, I promise we'll spend more time together. I even cut my nails, so you know I mean it. Maybe I'll even get around to naming you.

Dear Roads to Arizona,

I'm kind of a nervous driver and it's gotten worse lately. My request is that, if no one comes with me, come July, the roads are free of construction and the days are long and sunny. I think it's going to take me more than two days to drive twenty-nine hours if I have to do it by myself. I appreciate what you've done so far. Except for that snow storm in New Mexico. But I'm willing to forgive and forget if you help me get to Arizona without too much damage to my well-being.

Dear Kombucha,

You taste okay. I don't mind the vinegar taste but that could have to do with the large amounts of pickle juice I drank as a child. You're kind of expensive but if you're going to help, I guess I won't complain too much. Well, you're cheaper than a large amaretto latte with an extra shot of espresso. Plus, you don't deplete all my B-vitamins like that jerk caffeine. And no matter what flavor I get, if there's a little bit of ginger, it tastes like I'm drinking ginger tea. It's a good thing I've acquired a taste for ginger. With your power and my resistance to showering and shaving on a regular basis, I'm well on my way to being the hippies I've always made fun of.

Dear Cold Weather,

GO AWAY.

-Theresa

It's just like a girl to feel

2009-05-11T18:22:00.004-04:00

I really don't like the way I've been feeling lately. It's an unfortunate combination of sad, tired, overwhelmed, lonely and useless. Oh, and cold because May in Michigan means forty degrees. What am I doing to combat this? Sleeping, not drinking alcohol, drinking more tea, calling friends to spend time with and there's not very much I can do about the last one. I haven't been allowed to carry anything over twenty pounds since the surgery and let me tell you, that's a lot of things. And man do they mean it.

I'd ask for your forgiveness but it seems fruitless.

I haven't been writing much because I haven't been thinking anything I haven't thought already. I haven't said anything I haven't said already. What's the point in repeating sentiments?

See? Not only do I feel sad but I sound whiny and a little pathetic. I like to keep that from the general public when I can.

-Theresa

If I live too long I'm afraid I'll die.

2009-05-05T19:47:00.005-04:00

I always feel like I need a title. Sometimes it relates. Sometimes not. I was watching Darjeeling Limited today.

I need new music if only for the fact that every time I hear music from you, it makes me think of you.

So, it's not Endometriosis, which is great. But I'm still having the same problem and there's not a clear solution it seems. Which is not so great.

Pushing the moving date back a bit. My roommate is getting married 8 July and I kind of want to be there and she kind of wants me to be there. I hadn't put in official resignations to either job yet so it wasn't a big deal. Plus, making more money seems like a great plan. And getting to see friends I probably won't see because no one seems to like Arizona. What'd Arizona ever do to you, huh?

My throat hurts a bit but seems to be getting better. It's a good thing I love fruit because I'm eating it in abundance to make the sickness go away. Which reminds me: I'M GOING TO BE HERE FOR BLUEBERRY SEASON! I put that in all caps so that you could understand my excitement, not to yell at you. I LOVE BLUEBERRIES. If I wanted to hurt all the other berries' feelings, I would call blueberries my favorite but that seems cruel. So I won't. (But really, they kind of are and I think they know it.)

Of all the parts of me that hurt the most right now, I think my soul is in the lead. It's missing something. It needs something. I haven't given it enough attention. You.

The only ways I like chocolate:

In its hot, liquid form.
As part of a Kit Kat bar but only the normal-sized ones.
Wrapped around a peanut and with a candy-coated shell. With a little stamped "m."
Wrapped around peanut butter.
From boys.

Vampire Weekend, I've been meaning to tell you for a while: I give a fuck about an Oxford Comma but only because I hate it so much. See what I did there? I showed you some of that English drama.

Oh, and those "like" options at the bottom don't notify like Facebook does. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

That all being said, I didn't really have very much to say.

-Theresa

The Tylenol speaks for me.

2009-04-29T22:11:00.002-04:00

I'm okay. Not Endometriosis. They took out something that looked suspicious looking. I'm healing. Two scars. Follow up appointment in a month or so. I guess my insides look good. I remember freaking out when I woke up. But then I was okay. Longer update later. There is ice cream to be eaten and friends to love. Thanks for your support.

-Theresa

Overheard

2009-04-27T20:28:00.002-04:00

More accurately, I participated in this conversation.

Overheard (in whispers): I don't know. Go ask her.
Young Patron (YP)(in whispers): How do you spell "shawde?"
(T) Me: What is it?
YP (still whispering): "Shaw-dee."
T: Can you tell me where you heard it?
YP: Well, Soulja Boy was talking about it in a song. "Shawde."
T: Oh, I think you mean "shortie" but I'll write that down for you.

She seemed satisfied with my answer.

A moment later, Young Patron's friend needed my help writing down "Little Scooter." I can only imagine who sings about that.

-Theresa

Green reminds me

2009-04-27T17:13:00.003-04:00

Julia and I went to the East side of the state on Thursday planning on only staying for a day. We just got back yesterday. It's been the best time I've spent not working in a long time. Under the saddest of circumstances, of course. We went with no plan and it worked out for the best.

The stars would never hurt her never lie never desert her painted on her body.

I forget what it's like to be around people who are good ~~for me~~. I knew I missed them. I didn't realize how much I missed them. These are people who call me out on the stupid things I think in order to help me rather than embarrass me. These are people I've had a difficult time functioning without.

I've only been a shadow of myself. If it's Endometriosis, I'm getting a side piece. I may as well be a canvas.

Lately, it's taken all I have in me to keep from falling apart. Thank you for trying to help. Tonight, after work, I'm going to clean while drinking. It's how I clear my head. Of course, there will be abundant amounts of praying that everything is okay. I don't really want a side piece anyway.

-Theresa

This is not my tragedy.

2009-04-23T10:01:00.002-04:00

A friend's dad passed away. I'm going home for the funeral. You know you're grown up when it takes a death to bring you back to the people that have mattered most to you. I want college back. When all that mattered was ways to avoid doing homework. When homework was an excuse to get out of anything. When life understood that you had something that needed to get done. But we're older now. I don't have a real job but I guess this is real life.

I don't have much to say on the matter. I knew Tom. He was a good man, as far as I knew. His death is not my tragedy. The pain his death causes is partly my burden to carry only because it is carried by people I care so deeply for. I wish I could carry more of it. I wish I could do more for you.

I think I broke the wings off that little song bird.

If life's taught me anything it's that nothing is ever how you expect it to be. Nothing. We make things better or worse in our heads. To cope. That space inside our heads is what keeps us standing. That space inside our (cheese alert) hearts that we let people into is what keeps us going. It's the reason I haven't stopped trusting people even though I've been given ample reason to do so. I'm sure most people have. But we do what we can.

I've spent a lot of my life teaching myself to stop feeling. I stopped doing that. This whole feeling thing sucks. But I think it's better. Not feeling was my coping method. My cousin has been dead for nine years as of Monday. Nine years is a long time. I only let myself begin to acknowledge a loss about four years ago. It's what I needed to do. And then I learned that with a support system, I could deal with things right away, relatively. But I still don't know how to ask for help. I don't know how to depend. And so I don't. So if someone is there to care for me, I let them. If not, well, my methods of self preservation have been well-cultivated. I know, there are better ways. I know. But sometimes I can't make up for my shortcomings.

Being a grown-up sucks.

-Theresa

Here in Right Field

2009-04-17T14:25:00.002-04:00

It's easy, you know.

Moving day is ever closer. I think it's safe to say that my feelings of nervousness are actually anxiety. And my overwhelming sadness is probably depression. And I'm leaving soon so there's no point in finding a doctor before I go. But I'm losing my insurance pretty soon here. Oh well. Lots of crazy people don't talk to anyone about their problems and aren't on medication anyway. It's going to be great.

Bob Loblaw. Mmmyup.

I'm going on walks. It helps.

Pop Quiz

2009-04-15T14:12:00.003-04:00

Because surprise pelvic exams are my favorite.

Surgery is two weeks from today. I had my pre-op appointment. That was... fun. I didn't actually see the doctor until about forty-five minutes after I was scheduled to. The surgery should only take an hour. Two scars. Dissolvable stitches. Tylenol with Codeine.

To make myself feel better, I bought a milkshake. I wanted vanilla. They gave me chocolate. I gave it to Kristalynn.

Student from hell is in the lab. She wanted Kristalynn but her shift was over. She ended up with me. She asked for an example. I gave her three. She said I wasn't being specific enough and she needed more examples. I told her I had given her some and she just needed to write about her experience using those examples. She flipped out and said she was reporting me because I wasn't helping her and that she was failing her class because of me. I went and told my advisor what happened. She said I was fine. About three minutes later, the student and the advisor walked in. Advisor asked me to tell her what happened. I told her exactly what I had told the student. Advisor says, "well, that sounds like examples." Student declares that it's not enough and I need to break it down more. That we're being unprofessional. That she's going to stay in the room and type her paper. Advisor informs her that there is a computer lab one floor up where I'm not. She decides to stay anyway but doesn't want me to talk to her. She then says she's failing her class because I listen to music while I'm at work. Oh, she's apparently also failing because I told her she couldn't just write down exactly what I said, that she needed to come up with her own ideas and words. She yelled at my advisor. And at me. And she could go ANYWHERE ELSE but has decided to stay here anyway and tell me to turn my music down. I informed her that upstairs, there is no music and she wouldn't even have to see me because I don't work there. She's decided to stay here anyway. I'm thrilled.

So I'm having a bad day. Kathy is sick. I took her some bagels. Kristalynn is gone. Everyone else is at work. And I'm sad and kind of want a hug. But I'm at work for six and a half more hours. And I'm trapped. I don't like feeling this way. More and more, I'm aware that I can't live my life alone. And I don't want to. More and more, I'm realizing I kind of have to.

*Edit: The student came back to apologize for the way she acted. Said God had convicted her and that she shouldn't use excuses for her behavior. She invited me to her church.

-Theresa

2009-04-14T18:44:00.003-04:00

Let's see...

Surgery is on 29 April.
I am still scared.
I still like guitar a lot but I wish, like I'm sure many do, that I was just natural at it.
I'm going to be a teacher's assistant starting in September.
I am also going to be leading after school programs.
Moving day is still 20 June.
I have put in notice at both of my jobs.
I don't know if I am more scared of not succeeding, driving or surgery.
Very little surprises me anymore.
I like doing nice things for people.
I wish I could function past midnight.
I wish I could stay asleep at night.
I seem to talk about myself a lot.
Watching movies rented from the library seems to be a sufficient distraction.
The internet bores me.
I would say I wish I had a life but more, I wish I could hold onto it.
I'm okay being the scape goat on this one. So okay.
But you... You, I miss a little.

I'm not yet the person I wish I was.

2009-04-07T20:56:00.001-04:00

I've never known myself to be passive aggressive but I'm willing to try, just for you.

Winter just wasn't my season.

2009-04-06T13:25:00.003-04:00

Since winter in Michigan lasts well through April, I'm not the least bit surprised that things haven't turned around.

In some ways they have, I suppose. I'll be moving. But I know that a change of venue doesn't change the quality of the music: just one's perception of it.

Some time this week, I'll be getting a phone call to schedule a surgery. It's going to be out-patient and I'm going to be asleep while two procedures are performed but the thought of it is making me sick. I'm scared. I'M SCARED. Stoic exterior be damned. I'm not sure I can handle this alone.

They're not sure what they're looking for. If they find nothing, I have to get more invasive procedures done. If they find that it's Endometriosis, I have to further experiment with birth control and suck it up because it's something I'm going to deal with for the rest of my life. Oh, and it leads to infertility. I've been assured no more than a quarter inch scar on my belly and another one hidden inside my belly button. These pamphlets are doing very little to help.

I can't do this alone. I'm asking for... Well, I don't know what I'm asking for but I have a hard time asking for help when I need it and I think I need it.

In the mean time, I'm giving myself today to dwell on it. I think I'm going to go to the bar after work. Tomorrow, I'll still be scared. But I'll be sober and I'm going to try to pretend like everything is okay because I'm so fucking sick of it not being okay.

-Theresa

Phoenix, AZ (Part Two)

2009-04-04T11:57:00.002-04:00

I guess I neglected this for a bit. I guess I'm okay with that. I'm back in Kalamazoo for the time being. These are the facts:

I wrote my essay for my position for Americorps while drinking.
I was offered an interview and a position in the same day.
Pending a background check, I have a position with Americorps.
I signed an application for an apartment in Tempe, AZ.
The moving truck leaves Kalamazoo 20 June.
I might already have a subleaser in Kalamazoo.
Even though I know I could, I don't want to share a room until I'm married.
I'm scared to go.
Even though we're moving in June, the Americorps position doesn't start until September.
I'm going to get a part time job and then keep it while volunteering.
My dad didn't seem disappointed in my decision to take a low paying position.
I still really hate driving.
I should look into the possibility that Xanax might improve my daily life.
You're reading this so you know I'm moving. Otherwise, I don't think I'm going to advertise the fact.
That's not to say it's a secret.
I don't know why I even said that.
Do I need to put in a two month's notice?
I'm a little nervous too.
Right now, I'm tired.

-Theresa

Phoenix, AZ (part 1)

2009-03-29T10:02:00.001-04:00

I'm putting this in parts only because I'm still going to be here for a little while longer and I figured it didn't make any sense to call this post "Phoenix, AZ" when I'll probably write again. Woah. Holy self-explanation.

Let's see. I saw Triina and her boyfriend. It was pretty great seeing her. She got a onesie. I got a dress.

Went to Tempe for a day. It was exactly what a college town should be. TONS of bikes. And there was a brewery. It was okay. But it wasn't too hoppy and my beer was three dollars and they didn't charge me a cover so it's better than Bell's in all of those respects. I met Nate and Sarah's friend Ryan there. He's our potential fourth roommate. He seems nice enough and he doesn't mind that I don't shower often.

The first night we were here, I was taken to In & Out burger. Also okay. I know they make the fries there but they were skinny fries and I like a little potato to my fry. The son of the people we are staying with took me there. He's Joey. We're all hanging out with him on Tuesday. I felt like a creeper because my mom's friend, Summer, took me for drink at the place he works. We didn't see him so I felt less like a creeper.

Hanging out with Summer... Well, she picked me up from the certification test (which sucked) and we went shopping at a market. She bought my mom a ton of stuff but I feel really weird about it. We went back to her house where she filled me with food. Man, was it great. I was tired since I'd gotten up at six and was running on fumes. But there was Turkish coffee involved so I didn't mind too much until later. Her son came home at one point and we talked. Well, he talked. But he offered to help me get a job since he has so many connections and I can't express my gratitude accurately. When I say job, I mean a $34,000 salary. Yeah, what would you say? In return, I've promised to offer dating advice upon his insistence. Hey, he didn't ask what my history was. Anyway, I went with Summer to see a Flamenco show. It was okay. I was dead tired and I felt bad that she had to keep driving me around and everything. Nothing is really that close here and there's always tons of driving. Like, she didn't mind driving forty-five minutes for drinks.

I might have more insight but I think I'm addicted to coffee again. So I'm going to go satiate that desire.

-Theresa

Elk City, OK

2009-03-25T21:53:00.003-04:00

Why can't I get you out of my head? Fields and fields. Empty and full. And all I can think of is you. It's not fair. It's not fair because I can guarantee without a doubt that the sentiment is not mutual. Please. Stop.

I'm tired and all I did was ride as passenger in my own car. I mean, I did it on two hours of sleep and I navigated. Apparently, I'm not in a good mood. Shit.

I can't remember the last time I had a hug. Weeks, maybe. I have to tell you, watching a married couple function in close proximity hurts. It hurts a bit more when they ask things like "What's it like to be single?" and "Is it hard for you to be single?" And you know, I don't think it's the single. It's the feeling of loneliness I can't seem to shake. It's the overwhelming feeling of being meaningless I can't seem to escape.

Melodramatic much?

If I called you right now, you wouldn't be obligated to answer.

Maybe I should just go to sleep, huh? Tomorrow, we drive the last nine hundred miles to Phoenix, AZ. I will meet up with Triina, see my mom's best friend and interview for a position I can't really afford to take. Or not take.

Why couldn't I just have the teaching job? I think I would be able to accept it more if I had at least had a chance to interview. But I didn't. And now I'm whining. And you're not reading anyway. So I'm not going to apologize.

I will continue to be the person that I am: always striving to be better. Nothing can change that. No one will change that. I don't want that to change.

The sunsets you drive into are always the most beautiful.

-Theresa

2009-03-24T20:13:00.000-04:00

Regardless of you, I am exactly who I am and will remain so.

2009-03-22T09:33:00.000-04:00

I write these words because my voice often falters.

One Line Wonder

2009-03-21T09:37:00.003-04:00

I love you but I can't remember why.

Lately, I've been trying to look more... presentable. I'm just tired of not caring. So every few days or so, I put in my contacts, draw on some eyeliner, wear "outfits" instead of a hoodie and live my day. I feel a little better about myself. I think it's because it's one more way of taking care of myself. Of course, today, I kept my glasses on, am free of makeup and get the response, "Now, you look like yourself." I know what I've been looking like. I'm not sure if I should be offended or not.

Visiting daytrotter is... Just go do it. There's so much to discover.

I don't like feeling like I'm annoying people. If I feel that way, I do what I can to stop feeling that way.

I don't like being lied about. If I feel that that is happening, I do what I need to do to make it stop.

There's quite a bit swirling in my head right now but I don't think it matters.

Chris Bathgate is playing in Ann Arbor tonight. I mean, he plays in Ann Arbor often but he's also playing tonight. The music fiend in me really wants to go. The tired, gross-feeling me wants to get back into bed once she gets back from work.

Of course, I might also spend the day at ChocolaTea.

-Theresa

Please, pick one.

2009-03-15T22:17:00.003-04:00

If you deciphered from my last post, all of the positions I was going to interview for in Arizona have been filled. They don't need anymore English teachers. I was offered the option of changing my focus to Special Education. I said I would consider it. Here's the thing: I can see myself as an English teacher. I can taste it. The idea of getting a Masters of Education with a focus on language was so endlessly thrilling that I feel like I'm settling for a job with Special Education. Those students deserve someone who wants to be there. Besides, if I do Special Ed, I would have to get my Masters in Special Ed in addition to passing the teacher certification test. I have a few options, I think.

1. Go for Special Education. This would require a three year commitment to Phoenix Teaching Fellows and to getting a Masters in Special Ed. In the future, it seems it would make sense to continue to work in the area I would have my degree in. Otherwise, it's a waste of money on a degree.

2. Take the English certification test anyway and call to see how long it will last for (the certification). If I pass, I'm going to see if I can reapply to the PTF program the following year. After all, I have a degree in English.

3. Move to Phoenix, go to ASU and get my Masters of Education without going through PTF. Work part time.

4. Substitute teaching?

5. Move to Phoenix and look for a new plan. This would happen regardless of whether I get a job before going or not.

6. Apply to jobs everywhere again and go where I get a job, regardless of the fact that I might be going alone.

7. Pick somewhere. Move. Settle.

8. Reader's choice. Be specific.

You know what's not an option? Staying in Kalamazoo. Or Michigan as a whole.

The catches lie here: I got the phone call about them filling the position on Friday. I was wallowing in self-pity (as you may have glossed over) and so I didn't read the follow-up email until the next morning. Well, that was stupid because, apparently, I had to change my certification test. And, of course, the last day to do that was Friday. Registering to take the test was $105. In the grand scheme of things, that's not very much. But that represents about ten percent of my current monthly income. I would hate to throw away a potential future. Or $105. I'm calling Monday morning to see what I can do about that and see if the test will still be good later. If it is, I'm going to call PTF and see what the process of reapplying would look like. Also, if I don't go through PTF and I do decide to get my Masters degree anyway, I would have to pay out of state tuition.

I'm just disappointed. It was the first time in a long time that I was really excited about something. I wasn't just settling and I was going to go for it. And I wanted to. I really wanted to. I had reservations. But I always do. I have until 10 August to figure out the next year now. I have about ten days to figure out what I'm going to do in Arizona while I'm there.

Allow me to reiterate: staying in Kalamazoo is not an option.

Hey, friend? Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm meant to stay here and help you.

I asked my current roommate. She said she'd consider randomly moving somewhere with me. I'm not sure it'll happen. The thing is, when I moved to Kalamazoo, I moved alone. I did okay, I guess. But I don't really need to do that. I'm not really running away from anything this time. But maybe I need a fresh start and should do it again. We'll see. I've been sending resumes out again. I'm going to try to do at least one a day. But damn, that's a lot of cover letters.

Anyway, tell me your thoughts, please. Encouragement, criticisms, insight, more choices... Whatever. I need the feedback, I think.

Thanks, friends.

-Theresa

Fuck you, 2009.

2009-03-13T21:15:00.005-04:00

I had hopes for you. I had dreams. And you've managed to piss them all away. You're like a dramatic comedy. You sucked me in with the part about the comedy. I always think they're not going to be as dark as the last one or that the comedy will far outshine the drama. That is never the case and I never learn.

2009, you've set up everything for me and gradually took it away. The first day I spent with you seemed like a dream. I should have known better.

Here are some ways you have let me down:

1. My health is in general disarray. Have you and Body joined forces?
2. I am as alone as ever and reminded of it almost every day.
3. You made it clear that I no longer belong in Kalamazoo. Or Michigan.
4. All of the seventh and eighth grade language arts positions in Phoenix, AZ are full. My interview is not for two more weeks.
5. My haircut is stupid.
6. The Last House on the Left.

But before you let me down, 2009, you tend to present an opportunity and then take it away. On 1 January, 2009, every single thing on that list had promise, except for maybe number 4. I didn't know about the positions yet. (And I knew number six was going to suck but man, that sucked way more than I thought it would. Don't even bother.) There seemed to be potential for happiness. Joy, even. I've got to tell you, it's heartbreaking. It hurts to be teased like that. It hurts to see the potential of something good right in front of you and watch it disintegrate and be able to do nothing about it. There is a way to feel good and it's eluding me.

I tried, 2009, to do what I could. I'm only two and a half months in and I want a new year. Things are supposed to be better. Our president isn't a complete sack of shit. I'm a college graduate. The country I live in is impoverished but it's all its own fault. My roommate is great. But dammit, I don't want to be here anymore. I can't be here anymore. I've got to get out of here.

I'm so disconnected, I don't know what to do. I don't know who to be or how to be. And I am selfish.

How do you think I would fare as a special education teacher?

2009, I am not only not impressed: I am disappointed, hurt and broken.

-Theresa

Dear Body, (Part II)

2009-03-10T18:15:00.006-04:00

I was really hoping I wasn't going to need a part two, but here we go anyway.

I stopped taking the little blue pill, Body. And now, I'm on a slightly larger green pill. Or maybe it's yellow. You don't seem to care. I had a week, one whole week, of glorious, blood-free freedom. I didn't have to take my purse to the bathroom at restaurants. I didn't excessively nap. I went for walks. I didn't have to plan my day around you, Body. That was a good week.

But then yesterday happened and you decided to rear your ugly head again. I don't get what more you want, Body. I mean, I know it was a whole week between showers that last time but you just weren't smelly and I needed to be to work on time. Doesn't that get any consideration? Any at all? But I decided to nip your insolence in the bud this time. I called that lady doctor back right away. She says to stay on that slightly larger pill but that I was going to need to see a GYN and hormone specialist. Do you know how scary that sounds, Body? No, of course you don't. Because you're all "I don't want to function properly. WAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!" And I'm all "Shut the fuck up and start acting like you should be." I thought I raised you better than that, Body. I guess not.

A hormone specialist, though? Isn't that for ladies who wanted babies yesterday to go see? Body, I don't want babies right now. I want to be married before we start thinking babies. Besides, there's no way you could be thinking babies. No. Way. If this is some sort of internal clock thing, I'm going to be pissed. That's not to say I don't want babies ever, Body. I just don't want them right now. So you'd better be ready to make babies when I want them. I hope this isn't some revolt for the future.

I'm holding nothing back. I'm asking anyone who might know something about how I can get you back in line. Today, I emailed a friend of a friend to ask what natural steps I can take to fix you. I hope she has some answers because, for the love of God, I am at my wit's end with you, Body. It's just not fair. I stopped putting holes in you. I only got one tattoo. I don't do drugs or smoke. WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A JERK? You'd better have a better reason than "just 'cause" or I will punch you. Or make you work out more.

All I'm saying, Body, is that a little willingness to cooperate would make a world of difference. I don't think that's too much to ask for. But I suppose I've asked for that before and you seemed to think it was too much to ask for. At the risk of sounding insensitive and insincere I need you to know that feminine hygiene products are expensive and when you make me use three times as many as I'm supposed to, that gets even more expensive. We are in a recession. I think it's time you started thinking of me instead of stimulating the economy, Body. And I need you to know that I am tired but I need to get things done. It doesn't help that I constantly feel sick and drained and cranky and tired BECAUSE OF YOU. I have an interview to prepare for and a seminar to create and lead and a decision to make. Body, whatever is going on in there, just sort it out, okay? I don't have anymore time or energy to dote on you. I just want you to be better and I've done everything I know how to do.

I'm sorry, Body. I wanted it to work out too. But things don't go according to plan. I guess I don't need to tell you that. Do you think you can join forces with me on this one? Don't you want to be a part of a team? I mean, I think I'm pretty cool aside from the weird sense of humor and big hair. Body, I would cut that hair for you and find Team America: World Police funny if you wanted me to. At the very least, I would try. I know I can't do this all on my own, but well, I'm all you've got. You're all I've got. Imagine my dismay to find you don't want to work for this team. So, Body, if you're not going to cooperate with me, at least cooperate for the GYN and hormone specialist, who will probably be looking for problems. Just be obvious with them and tell them everything they need to know. I'm a little scared, so the more you cooperate, the better. I mean, it would be ideal if nothing was wrong but that doesn't seem to be the case anymore.

If you could clear up your issues before 25 March, all the better. It seems I'll have to just accept it if you don't. I thought I'd mention it on the off chance you were taking suggestions. Body, I've said my piece. Again. Take the hint. Suck it up. Get better. Or I'll start praying for a return policy.

Most Sincerely,

Theresa

I hate Facebook.

2009-03-07T13:09:00.003-05:00

Yes, I said it.

Facebook and Myspace, neither of those two networking sites are reasonable facsimiles for a real friendship. Yes, the connections made and acknowledged are made with what the websites calls "friends." But I have to say, these websites have bastardized the meaning of friendship. It's no longer necessary to call a friend and see how she is doing. In fact, I can not speak with a person for a year and still know the everyday happenings of his life. And I can call that a friendship if I want to.

I tell people that the reason I am on Facebook so often is that I sit in front of a computer for forty hours a week and wait to help people. That is true. That is also an excuse. I use Facebook because I am just as much of a voyeur as everyone else. But I also like being able to stay connected with people I normally would not have. I like that it's an easy way to get a hold of someone. But again, the connections made and kept do not a friendship make. I am just as offended or hurt, in some cases, as other are when someone deletes me or blocks me. I have gone through my list of contacts and deleted people I have never met or couldn't remember meeting. There was no point in keeping those lines of communication open.

I hate Facebook.

I have wasted too much time pouring over the daily, one-line musing of people I barely know. I want real friendships. Since when, in a real friendship, can a person decide to delete you? No, memories fade and people drift but in real relationships with people, there is no "delete" button. And I liked it better that way. As much as I don't like confrontation, I don't necessarily mind doing it. I mean, there's something to be said for severing all ties but I've always been the kind of person to let people know why. I have stopped talking to people and I have cut people out of my life. If those people are honest with themselves and honest with you, they know exactly why. It's because real lines of communication are open. Whatever the consequences, I choose honesty. Whatever the outcome, I choose to try to be a better person than I am.

The thing about me is that I don't like to be angry or at odds with people. People do shitty things, myself included, and deserve forgiveness. Don't get me wrong, I am not stupid. Well, maybe I am. But if someone say, constantly asks to borrow money and doesn't return it, I learn. That person is not a wise person to loan money to. But I do not want to stay angry with that person. I'm sure there are people out there who think I hate them or am holding something against them. It's just not true. I sometimes take time to "cool off" if I am angry but I prefer to choose forgiveness. I prefer to be on good terms. I prefer to try.

I like talking to people. I like having conversations. I like the tangible aspects of relationships like hugs and a note that is written using pen and paper. I like being given the opportunity to clarify confusion. I don't mind how awkward some conversations can be. I love that I can tell what a person means based on body language and vocal inflections. Facebook doesn't provide those things. Facebook provides a forum we can attend in order to maintain connections with people that are too many steps removed from what healthy relationships are. Facebook is a perversion of what friendship should be.

I choose to make and keep my friendships and other relationships real.

Tokens

2009-03-05T22:13:00.003-05:00

I had to put you in a drawer in a desk because the image of wishes and dreams falling through my fingers was just a little too much today. So I did. The image remains.

Feeling vomity. Perhaps body needs to have another talking to. Maybe?

I switched from blue to yellow and I do not feel at peace. I do not feel settled.

In less than three weeks, I will be on my way to an interview that may determine up to three years of my life. A little scary. A little welcome.

I'm sorry that the person I used to be makes you sorry for the person you are. I wish I could take it back.

I could be a teacher. I can be a teacher.

I made a new mix CD. It'll be in the mail soon. I swear. Really. Oh, and thanks for the postcard.

I'm like a passenger to my own life sometimes. I still don't understand what happened.

It hurts. Stop, please.

Don't worry about the suitcase.

Timeline? I could be gone by early June. I have no plans to be here past August. That, I know.

Contact, part two

2009-02-27T17:59:00.005-05:00

I feel it necessary to say that I haven't stopped calling people in order to test anyone. And I didn't write the last post to make anyone feel bad. I was just feeling too connected. Like I was pouring too much of myself out. So I drew back. I think people get used to the roles they have in relationships. I was the Contacter. So I knew if I drew back, I'd have a few days of introspection to myself. I don't like being in that role all the time. I mean, everyone likes to feel invited along every now and then. Actually, it's worked out really well, the not calling. Sometimes I think I really enjoy being social and with others so I don't have to be introspective. It's been time well spent. The time "away."

I need to find the happy medium. I need to find it in time spent with others, time spent thinking and over thinking, how much I call people... All that and stuff. This isn't coming out eloquently. I guess I just wanted to say that I wasn't doing this as a reaction to anyone but myself. This is all in the hopes that I continue to grow. And I think I am.

In other news, asparagus really does make your pee smell funny. Huh.

Contact

2009-02-25T18:08:00.003-05:00

I stopped calling people as of Saturday night. The thing about not calling the people I'd been spending large amounts of time with is that none of them have called me either. I'm not really a one-sided kind of person.

You and me, we're not good for each other. Or at least, you're not good for me.

I've always wondered about people who don't call others. I used to be one of those people. I would just wait for people to call me. I'm not sure if it's a level of control or a relinquishing of control. I mean, it could be that you don't call people because you want others to call you will fully thought-out plans that you can then decide if you want to be a part of or not. Or you want nothing to do with the decision making process and take some of the better sounding opportunities as they arise. Or perhaps it's the ability to blame one's social shortcoming's on another person. I think that's why I used to do it. I thought I was too awkward and people didn't really want me around and that was proved by no one calling me. Really, I think, I didn't want to be rejected. Really, I think, it's just one more excuse.

Right now, I don't feel bad about myself. I think it's a testament to the relationships I've built. Both past and present. I think I'm okay with it. I think I'm okay with who I am. I'm not perfect and neither are you. But I know who I am. For the time-being, of course.

I wanted to write some profound thing about how if you want to matter to me, you should let me know. Or if you want me to care for you, you should do something about it. But that's not how it works. If you want me to care for you, continue being the person you are. If you want me to appreciate that person, keep doing the things you do. If you want me to tell you, well, there may need to be some level of contact. No, that's not even true. Not really. I've got my drawer full of letters. To you and to everyone else. Whether you get yours on not depends fully on the necessity of that letter being sent.

In the wise, oh-so-patronizing words of an old friend: "the phone works both ways." I'll be leaving soon. If we can't stay in contact in close proximity, there's little hope for later. It's not cynicism. It's experience.

I think.

I am not even

2009-02-23T17:32:00.003-05:00

A reflection of myself. In your presence, I am indistinguishable. For better or for worse or whatever.

I tried to get away from here but I had to ask you to drive. Ironic? A little. Unfortunate? More so.

I am lost inside of my intentions. More, my intentions are lost inside of me. They are lost on you. The opportunities for clarification are lost or not presented at all. Watch them all wash away.

But this? This is outside of you. Let it go. It is not a part of you. It is not you. And if you do not let it go, you are letting me go. This is the letting go.

The thing about rainy days

2009-02-20T14:40:00.004-05:00

Is that they just drag you down. You follow each rain drop like you think you're supposed to. All of the sudden, you're being sucked down a drainage hole like it's where you belong. The news? It's not where you belong. The world's residue belongs there. Each of us as individuals might be made of things we don't want to be made of but we are not residual. We belong here.

I belong here. I belong Home.

قلبي بيتي

I forgot. How could I forget? I'm the only one looking at my back. Looking for it. You will have the option of watching it go. Because I've decided to. Go, I mean. I've decided to go regardless of whether I get the teaching job. If I have to work at a Starbucks, I will do it. If I have to figure something out with the university there, I'll do it. It will be where Home is. There, I must follow.

There are no grand gestures or glowing signs leading the way. You just have the take the steps forward. I have to take the steps forward. I will not be sucked down. I've been inscribed on because the words there are true. My words are true. I've always looked for subtleties. I should continue to do it. Though, I wouldn't mind a grand gesture on my way out of here. It just wouldn't be my direction. It wouldn't be Home.

This Home here? It's growing. It's always ready to take more in. Take more on. I hope that remains true.

It's snowing today.