They say, "Don't always seem to go, that you don't know what you got, til it's gone."
What an insightful phrase. Catchy, even. Too bad it's not true.
I contend that you always know what you have. Most of this knowledge is even conscious. The difference comes in perspective, in whether or not you can accept what you have, and be content with it. It would be very hard to argue that a person does not "know" what he possesses, material-wise, relationship-wise, or otherwise. As a cognitively aware person, and giving others a general benefit of the doubt, I would venture so far as to say everyone knows what they have. Whether or not they can be happy with what they have, at any particular moment in time, is a different story.
Allow me to back up a little bit. Right now I am packing up, getting ready to move from Rogers Park to Bucktown. For those of you familiar with the city and its neighborhoods, that's quite the change. A lot of other changes have occurred recently as well; I graduated college, started working full time, and as of now, I am as close to financial independence as I may ever be. My life is progressing, it's moving on. And as it does, I find myself having to leave a few things, physical and emotional, behind.
I threw away my futon the other day. My freshman year of college, I bought a crazy royal blue futon for my dorm. It's traveled with me from place to place throughout my four years of college. My brother slept on that futon, ex boyfriends have slept on that futon, my roommate's friends have slept on that futon. Movies were watched from that futon, and card games were played while sitting on that futon. One of my drunkest nights was spent, at least originally, on that futon. And so, I suppose the futon was more than "just" a physical piece of crap, it housed many memories, most of them good, from the last four years. But, as is expected and, I would argue, necessary, it's time for me to move on. I carried the frame and the mattress of the futon down to the dumpster, and the next day the garbage collectors had taken it away.
Many other things that seemed so crucial to my college experience are also leaving me. I threw away many of my notes/tests/quizzes from classes I took the past four years. Nearly all of my textbooks have been sold back to the bookstore, save a few teaching texts I'd like to hold on to for a bit longer. My email with Loyola remains relatively unchecked, as opposed to when I was still in school, and would check it multiple times per day for updates from professors, counselors, employers, and the like.
And, one of the hardest things to give up was my relationship with AJ. I had spent the last 14 months, 25% of my college career, building (what I assumed to be) a fortified relationship with someone I truly care about. He became everything to me--an integral part of my life, even more so than all of the above mentioned things. As opposed to a thing, he was a person, obviously, and held in store so much more for me than I ever could have expected from a futon or an email. However, in late June, I made the choice to leave him behind, as well.
This choice did not come without many repercussions. We had established a life together. It was no longer "AJ and me," it was "we." We did nearly everything together, despite the sacrifices. We relied on each other, and somehow built a mutual dependency upon each other. We had plans to move in together, find full time jobs so we could support an adult lifestyle, and enjoy being young and in love. That all came crashing down for me when I was scanning in our paperwork to apply for a new apartment. I realized that, as great as things had been, there were bad times, too. And I didn't know if I could handle "signing up" for another 12-24 months of that. Being with AJ was everything I wanted at the time, or at least that's what I had convinced myself. But when push came to shove, I realized I wanted something...different. My 'in-love' feelings had escaped me; although there is still a strong sense of friendship and loyalty, nearly all romantic feelings for him had left my mind.
Things have been crazy since AJ and I split up. Just like I have a new couch lined up, a new (work) email to replace my college email, I also started seeing someone new. He's great, and I can see myself being with him for a long period of time. However, I can't help remember, just like I'll look back at those memories of my obnoxiously blue futon, or remember obsessively checking my Loyola email 20 times per day, I will also often recall all of the memories I made with AJ. 14 months doesn't seem to long to someone who's lived, say, 50 or more years. But when you're 21, that's about 5% of your life, and roughly 25% (or more) of your "serious dating" life. That's a lot of time to commit, and a lot to give up in a brief period. Those fond memories won't leave anytime soon. They've simply earned themselves a place in my cognitive scrapbook, to be revisited now and again, and respected with all that I have.
So, no, I don't think that I "know now" what I had, because it's gone. I knew what I had when I had it, and for a long time, I made myself believe it was great; it was exactly what I wanted. Just like the futon was exactly what I wanted. But people grow and move on. I will miss my futon, my old email, AJ...all come with such strong, powerful memories of my past. In a way, I suppose one could say all of those things shaped me into the woman I am today. I was lucky enough to value what I had when I had it, and now I can look back and appreciate what I had, even though it's gone. It's not "not knowing," it's being aware and appreciative. And for that, I undyingly am.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Growing up.
Wow.
So much has changed in just a few short months. Upon finishing up my student teaching last Monday, I feel even more "grown up," another step closer to entering the "real world" and getting a job. I have a few feelings on that, but wasn't really able to properly order them until today. I was watching Glee (ok, laugh...), and one of the main characters was talking about how growing up is all about loss. It seems you have everything when you're young, and growing up is all about losing those few things. I mean come on, who hasn't heard about "losing your innocence," right? I think this has a deeper meaning though, and I appreciate you taking a moment to think with me.
A few things I've lost in the past few months/years:
-financial support from my parents (for the most part). I feed and clothe myself, and pay my own rent.
-friends. I left a ton of friends behind after graduating high school, and leave behind more each semester in college. Although some stick around, friends seem to be fairly transient these days, for what it's worth.
-health. Each day I get older, and I am in worse health. I mean, generally, this is true for all people...as we grow old, our health declines; usually this results in our death. I think I decline a little more quickly than most, so this is certainly worth mentioning for me.
-the ease of obtaining A's in classes. This used to be so simple in grade school and high school. Now, I work diligently for every grade I receive, and even then sometimes I don't see the results I think I should.
And now, for the most recent thing I've lost...my students.
In August, I stepped into a fifth grade classroom, expecting a pretty normal experience. What I gained is knowledge and experience that has proved to be life-changing. I will never view education in the same way.
A big part of life includes change, but have you ever gone through something that left you entirely different than when you began? This is my student teaching experience.
I started out viewing student teaching as a learning experience; very quickly, my mind changed and it became a challenge that I accepted and needed to complete. Every day was intense and required an inordinate amount of preparation. I quickly learned that there is no "sleeping on the job" in teaching--in order to be a successful teacher, you have to be on your best game every day. Your students don't accept "I didn't have time to get everything ready" as an excuse...if you're unprepared, they can tell, and will take advantage of you. So, the first part of the challenge was learning to be prepared for anything and everything, and most of all, being prepared to teach.
But what happens when what you're teaching is above what your students know? This happened to me not too far into the semester--I was teaching something related to probability, and assumed my students knew how to deal with fractions.
Was I ever wrong.
The second part of the challenge was learning that you always need a backup plan, you need to be flexible, and not unwilling to take a step back and quickly re-evaluate the situation. I didn't know what to do when my students stared at me incredulously when I brought up fractions. I looked at my teacher, as if to say, "What now?" Incredibly enough...she didn't help me. She let me stand there for a few moments, and I could feel myself sinking. I wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground and run down the sewer. How could I not be ready to back up and meet my students' needs? Now I know better how to analyze what I'm teaching from an objective standpoint; I'm always ready with extra resources in order to address situations such as these.
The third part of my challenge was learning to take responsibility for my students and their learning. Teaching is a two way street--I teach my students, and they teach me. However, I am primarily responsible for what their classroom experience looks like. In that regard, I learned that I do not have enough time to cover everything so I have to make use of my time in the best way possible with relevant learning experiences.
And the last part of the challenge, possibly the hardest, was figuring out how to say goodbye to the 55 or so young people to whom I became so closely attached during my challenge. Another day, another loss...Some losses are harder to handle than others. This has certainly been one of the hardest goodbyes...I spent more active waking time with my students than nearly anyone else in my life, including my closest friends. I guess Rihanna sums it up best when she sings:
And I know you’re going somewhere to make a better life
I hope that you find it on the first try
And even though it kills me
That you have to go
I know it'll be sadder
If you never hit the road
So farewell!
[Chorus]
Somebody is gonna miss you
Farewell
Somebody is gonna wish that you were here
That somebody is me
And I'm gon' try to hold it all in
Try to hold back my tears
So it don't make you stay here
I'mma try to be a big girl now
Cause I don't wanna be the reason you don't leave
Farewell
[Chorus]
Somebody is gonna miss you
Farewell
Somebody is gonna wish that you were here
Farewell
Somebody is gonna miss you
Farewell
Somebody is gonna wish that you were here
That somebody is me
My students wrote me an entire book thanking me for "everything I'd taught them," and begging me not to go. That definitely made leaving a whole lot more difficult. However, I'm taking this loss as simply another part of growing up. We have to leave what we love when we grow up; this is clear. Sometimes we choose to leave, sometimes we're forced to leave; in the end, we only truly have ourselves and our accomplishments. I'll have another classroom someday, filled with more bright-eyed eager students, but I will never have these fifth graders back. I will never have an experience quite the same as this one. I'll never see things the same as I used to; I'm filled with so much more knowledge and motivation now than I used to be, and this is what's going to drive me to leave, to reach on for "bigger and better" things, despite the loss I feel.
In the end, even if I lose everything, I'll always take these memories on with me, until I breathe my very last breath. They'll continue to haunt me, to guide me, to motivate me and push me to my full potential.
Maybe this isn't a loss, then, in the end. Maybe it's a gain, and I just have to change my perspective to see it.
So much has changed in just a few short months. Upon finishing up my student teaching last Monday, I feel even more "grown up," another step closer to entering the "real world" and getting a job. I have a few feelings on that, but wasn't really able to properly order them until today. I was watching Glee (ok, laugh...), and one of the main characters was talking about how growing up is all about loss. It seems you have everything when you're young, and growing up is all about losing those few things. I mean come on, who hasn't heard about "losing your innocence," right? I think this has a deeper meaning though, and I appreciate you taking a moment to think with me.
A few things I've lost in the past few months/years:
-financial support from my parents (for the most part). I feed and clothe myself, and pay my own rent.
-friends. I left a ton of friends behind after graduating high school, and leave behind more each semester in college. Although some stick around, friends seem to be fairly transient these days, for what it's worth.
-health. Each day I get older, and I am in worse health. I mean, generally, this is true for all people...as we grow old, our health declines; usually this results in our death. I think I decline a little more quickly than most, so this is certainly worth mentioning for me.
-the ease of obtaining A's in classes. This used to be so simple in grade school and high school. Now, I work diligently for every grade I receive, and even then sometimes I don't see the results I think I should.
And now, for the most recent thing I've lost...my students.
In August, I stepped into a fifth grade classroom, expecting a pretty normal experience. What I gained is knowledge and experience that has proved to be life-changing. I will never view education in the same way.
A big part of life includes change, but have you ever gone through something that left you entirely different than when you began? This is my student teaching experience.
I started out viewing student teaching as a learning experience; very quickly, my mind changed and it became a challenge that I accepted and needed to complete. Every day was intense and required an inordinate amount of preparation. I quickly learned that there is no "sleeping on the job" in teaching--in order to be a successful teacher, you have to be on your best game every day. Your students don't accept "I didn't have time to get everything ready" as an excuse...if you're unprepared, they can tell, and will take advantage of you. So, the first part of the challenge was learning to be prepared for anything and everything, and most of all, being prepared to teach.
But what happens when what you're teaching is above what your students know? This happened to me not too far into the semester--I was teaching something related to probability, and assumed my students knew how to deal with fractions.
Was I ever wrong.
The second part of the challenge was learning that you always need a backup plan, you need to be flexible, and not unwilling to take a step back and quickly re-evaluate the situation. I didn't know what to do when my students stared at me incredulously when I brought up fractions. I looked at my teacher, as if to say, "What now?" Incredibly enough...she didn't help me. She let me stand there for a few moments, and I could feel myself sinking. I wanted to melt into a puddle on the ground and run down the sewer. How could I not be ready to back up and meet my students' needs? Now I know better how to analyze what I'm teaching from an objective standpoint; I'm always ready with extra resources in order to address situations such as these.
The third part of my challenge was learning to take responsibility for my students and their learning. Teaching is a two way street--I teach my students, and they teach me. However, I am primarily responsible for what their classroom experience looks like. In that regard, I learned that I do not have enough time to cover everything so I have to make use of my time in the best way possible with relevant learning experiences.
And the last part of the challenge, possibly the hardest, was figuring out how to say goodbye to the 55 or so young people to whom I became so closely attached during my challenge. Another day, another loss...Some losses are harder to handle than others. This has certainly been one of the hardest goodbyes...I spent more active waking time with my students than nearly anyone else in my life, including my closest friends. I guess Rihanna sums it up best when she sings:
And I know you’re going somewhere to make a better life
I hope that you find it on the first try
And even though it kills me
That you have to go
I know it'll be sadder
If you never hit the road
So farewell!
[Chorus]
Somebody is gonna miss you
Farewell
Somebody is gonna wish that you were here
That somebody is me
And I'm gon' try to hold it all in
Try to hold back my tears
So it don't make you stay here
I'mma try to be a big girl now
Cause I don't wanna be the reason you don't leave
Farewell
[Chorus]
Somebody is gonna miss you
Farewell
Somebody is gonna wish that you were here
Farewell
Somebody is gonna miss you
Farewell
Somebody is gonna wish that you were here
That somebody is me
My students wrote me an entire book thanking me for "everything I'd taught them," and begging me not to go. That definitely made leaving a whole lot more difficult. However, I'm taking this loss as simply another part of growing up. We have to leave what we love when we grow up; this is clear. Sometimes we choose to leave, sometimes we're forced to leave; in the end, we only truly have ourselves and our accomplishments. I'll have another classroom someday, filled with more bright-eyed eager students, but I will never have these fifth graders back. I will never have an experience quite the same as this one. I'll never see things the same as I used to; I'm filled with so much more knowledge and motivation now than I used to be, and this is what's going to drive me to leave, to reach on for "bigger and better" things, despite the loss I feel.
In the end, even if I lose everything, I'll always take these memories on with me, until I breathe my very last breath. They'll continue to haunt me, to guide me, to motivate me and push me to my full potential.
Maybe this isn't a loss, then, in the end. Maybe it's a gain, and I just have to change my perspective to see it.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
The art of the "truth."
"Artists use lies to tell the truth. Yes, I create lies, but because you believe them, you find something true in yourself."
I am an artist.
Lately, I've been contemplating the meaning of the truth. I've always seen truth as "reality," or that which exists before my very eyes. I viewed truth from a very objective standpoint, narrow, and for the most part, unchangeable.
I'm seeing more and more how variable truth can be, and how one's perception of the truth can change both the meaning and outcome of the situation entirely. I, for one, try to keep an upbeat and positive attitude in check with everything I do; is it true that I am an optimist? I realize more and more that this is entirely unanswerable, because it is subjective and in subjectivism (if that's a word...) there is little or no truth.
What replaces truth, in a subjective situation, is perception and feeling toward the situation. Through feeling one may find truth; though, not about the situation, only about the feeling.
Go back to the quote there, at the beginning. Few people tell the truth; not because they are liars, but because there is little truth to be had in much of what we do. Truth beams at us through subjects such as math, and to a degree, science; truth shines through proven objects and ideas. However, what about the rest? Consider an opinion; can an opinion be true? I would argue yes and no. Opinion is untrue in that it is not fact; however, an opinion can be true if it accurately reflects the feelings and ideas of the person holding the opinion. Your opinions may not be true for me, nor mine for you. So how do we go on judging truth as though it's a fundamental part of life?
I would say that, for a large part of my life, I've searched for "truth." I've studied math and science in a great search for truth. I've abandoned belief in "God," because religion is not true to me. I've also separated myself from philosophy and unproven theory for the same reason: my inability to find truth.
But why is finding truth so important?
Anything can become a lie, no matter how "true" it may be, if the sayer of the phrase lacks belief in it. A phrase so simple (yet complex) as "I love you" can turn from ultimate truth into one of the most beautiful lies in existence. And, if the audience is to believe the phrase, the lie so to speak, he or she may find truth in themselves. Truth inevitably and invariably becomes an object of perception, then--is this possible? Is it possible to use a lie to tell the truth? Yes, because although I do not perceive something as true, when I share it with you, it may become true for you.
In speaking the "truth," then, it may be more considerable to one's audience to consider the outcome rather than the factual evidence that may or may not back up one's claim. How will the other person perceive the "truth;" will they find it to be true?
I love you, I love you, I love you; if I mean what I say then it is truth to me; if you fail to believe it, then it is false. If, however, I say it without meaning, but you believe it in good faith, then it is true to you but untrue to me. From an outsider's perspective, then, is it true or untrue? Arguably, it is from a subjective standpoint, and there is no room for truth aside from the truth which each of the participants finds in the phrase and moreover the implications of the phrase.
In other words, what is true to me may be untrue to you, and not even a matter of truth to a third party.
Therefore, aside from proven fact, what place does truth have in our lives? I have come so far, at least in my current state, to be able to argue that truth either doesn't exist in the subjective world, or does not matter in many situations, especially those based on perception rather than data. I don't know if I'm right here (what is "right," anyway?), and for one of the first times in my life, I'm enjoying being in this state of contemplation.
Until next time, be an artist. I know I am.
I am an artist.
Lately, I've been contemplating the meaning of the truth. I've always seen truth as "reality," or that which exists before my very eyes. I viewed truth from a very objective standpoint, narrow, and for the most part, unchangeable.
I'm seeing more and more how variable truth can be, and how one's perception of the truth can change both the meaning and outcome of the situation entirely. I, for one, try to keep an upbeat and positive attitude in check with everything I do; is it true that I am an optimist? I realize more and more that this is entirely unanswerable, because it is subjective and in subjectivism (if that's a word...) there is little or no truth.
What replaces truth, in a subjective situation, is perception and feeling toward the situation. Through feeling one may find truth; though, not about the situation, only about the feeling.
Go back to the quote there, at the beginning. Few people tell the truth; not because they are liars, but because there is little truth to be had in much of what we do. Truth beams at us through subjects such as math, and to a degree, science; truth shines through proven objects and ideas. However, what about the rest? Consider an opinion; can an opinion be true? I would argue yes and no. Opinion is untrue in that it is not fact; however, an opinion can be true if it accurately reflects the feelings and ideas of the person holding the opinion. Your opinions may not be true for me, nor mine for you. So how do we go on judging truth as though it's a fundamental part of life?
I would say that, for a large part of my life, I've searched for "truth." I've studied math and science in a great search for truth. I've abandoned belief in "God," because religion is not true to me. I've also separated myself from philosophy and unproven theory for the same reason: my inability to find truth.
But why is finding truth so important?
Anything can become a lie, no matter how "true" it may be, if the sayer of the phrase lacks belief in it. A phrase so simple (yet complex) as "I love you" can turn from ultimate truth into one of the most beautiful lies in existence. And, if the audience is to believe the phrase, the lie so to speak, he or she may find truth in themselves. Truth inevitably and invariably becomes an object of perception, then--is this possible? Is it possible to use a lie to tell the truth? Yes, because although I do not perceive something as true, when I share it with you, it may become true for you.
In speaking the "truth," then, it may be more considerable to one's audience to consider the outcome rather than the factual evidence that may or may not back up one's claim. How will the other person perceive the "truth;" will they find it to be true?
I love you, I love you, I love you; if I mean what I say then it is truth to me; if you fail to believe it, then it is false. If, however, I say it without meaning, but you believe it in good faith, then it is true to you but untrue to me. From an outsider's perspective, then, is it true or untrue? Arguably, it is from a subjective standpoint, and there is no room for truth aside from the truth which each of the participants finds in the phrase and moreover the implications of the phrase.
In other words, what is true to me may be untrue to you, and not even a matter of truth to a third party.
Therefore, aside from proven fact, what place does truth have in our lives? I have come so far, at least in my current state, to be able to argue that truth either doesn't exist in the subjective world, or does not matter in many situations, especially those based on perception rather than data. I don't know if I'm right here (what is "right," anyway?), and for one of the first times in my life, I'm enjoying being in this state of contemplation.
Until next time, be an artist. I know I am.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
And so it began...
Wow, it's been about a month since I've written a blog, and I must admit...I miss it!
Well, I started student teaching, so I thought I'd talk about that a little bit. As if it doesn't already consume my life, right? Ha ha ha. . .
I'm in a fifth grade classroom, and man are they cute! They're so...small! I guess I got super used to working with 6th grade and up--I forgot how small 5th graders are. Another initial impression of my fifth graders are...they are still fairly innocent. The upside: for the most part, they behave really well! The downside: they don't understand sarcasm...at all. Case in point, from today:
Student hand goes up.
Me: Yes?
Student: I have a question.
Me: Sorry, no questions allowed.
Student: Oh. *hangs head*
...
Me: OF course questions are allowed!! Ask away. :)
I'm still not used to the fact that they don't always understand humor--they're a super literal bunch. On the other hand, I love them entirely.
A few things I've accomplished: bulletin boards, grading papers, learning students' names (this is a HUGE deal), and, as of this week, teaching one math class! According to the planning guide, I'll be teaching full days before I know it. I can't begin to express how excited I am for this to happen--to have "total control." Not that teaching is all about control, but I think that the kids will respond a lot better to one consistent teacher instead of (now) having to switch between my coop and me.
The thing I've been most disgusted with since having started student teaching is the following: encountering teachers who hate kids. I mean seriously?! I get the argument of "this is my degree, and changing careers is not possible." Ok, sure, but do you know how many young lives you are RUINING by staying in this profession? I mean honestly. The kids understand that you don't like them. Withholding bathroom privileges is NOT an acceptable punishment. Also, call me oldfashioned, but I believe in RECESS. I need the break too! I just can't believe that teachers go on living their lives in misery (clearly) and making others' lives miserable as well. I'd much rather see a teacher leave the profession to go work a job at McD's than to torture any more students by doing something that they don't want to do (teaching).
I love kids. I can say that to the utmost degree, and without any sense of perversion: I love teaching and I love kids. I love the random stuff they come up with, I love passing on knowledge, I love every single moment of the day: giving and collecting homework (or not), leading a group discussion, planning activities...and most importantly, I love seeing it all come together EVERY day to prove to be effective for the kids. Teaching is like directing an orchestra: if everyone can work together, well, a ton of progress is made. If one person is off, out of tune, or what have you--it can throw off the entire day.
The one thing I want to work on in the near future is not letting the day's events influence my mood to such a degree. My mood from 3pm onward is affected by what occurred between 9AM and 2:45PM. It shouldn't be that way, but it is. I hope to work on that...really soon.
But for now, I need to go grade papers! :)
Peace, y'all. And I promise more (interesting) blogs to come!
Well, I started student teaching, so I thought I'd talk about that a little bit. As if it doesn't already consume my life, right? Ha ha ha. . .
I'm in a fifth grade classroom, and man are they cute! They're so...small! I guess I got super used to working with 6th grade and up--I forgot how small 5th graders are. Another initial impression of my fifth graders are...they are still fairly innocent. The upside: for the most part, they behave really well! The downside: they don't understand sarcasm...at all. Case in point, from today:
Student hand goes up.
Me: Yes?
Student: I have a question.
Me: Sorry, no questions allowed.
Student: Oh. *hangs head*
...
Me: OF course questions are allowed!! Ask away. :)
I'm still not used to the fact that they don't always understand humor--they're a super literal bunch. On the other hand, I love them entirely.
A few things I've accomplished: bulletin boards, grading papers, learning students' names (this is a HUGE deal), and, as of this week, teaching one math class! According to the planning guide, I'll be teaching full days before I know it. I can't begin to express how excited I am for this to happen--to have "total control." Not that teaching is all about control, but I think that the kids will respond a lot better to one consistent teacher instead of (now) having to switch between my coop and me.
The thing I've been most disgusted with since having started student teaching is the following: encountering teachers who hate kids. I mean seriously?! I get the argument of "this is my degree, and changing careers is not possible." Ok, sure, but do you know how many young lives you are RUINING by staying in this profession? I mean honestly. The kids understand that you don't like them. Withholding bathroom privileges is NOT an acceptable punishment. Also, call me oldfashioned, but I believe in RECESS. I need the break too! I just can't believe that teachers go on living their lives in misery (clearly) and making others' lives miserable as well. I'd much rather see a teacher leave the profession to go work a job at McD's than to torture any more students by doing something that they don't want to do (teaching).
I love kids. I can say that to the utmost degree, and without any sense of perversion: I love teaching and I love kids. I love the random stuff they come up with, I love passing on knowledge, I love every single moment of the day: giving and collecting homework (or not), leading a group discussion, planning activities...and most importantly, I love seeing it all come together EVERY day to prove to be effective for the kids. Teaching is like directing an orchestra: if everyone can work together, well, a ton of progress is made. If one person is off, out of tune, or what have you--it can throw off the entire day.
The one thing I want to work on in the near future is not letting the day's events influence my mood to such a degree. My mood from 3pm onward is affected by what occurred between 9AM and 2:45PM. It shouldn't be that way, but it is. I hope to work on that...really soon.
But for now, I need to go grade papers! :)
Peace, y'all. And I promise more (interesting) blogs to come!
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
te amo, te amo.
"Don't it mean I love you? Think it means I love you."
From my short (nearly) 21 years of life, I have seen time and time again those that surround me ask "What is love? Do I really love him/her? How will I know when I truly love someone?"
Though I don't proclaim to be better educated than any with this pondering, I have lately given this idea much thought; I don't think I've come to a new and praise-worthy solution, but I can share what it means to me. It all started making sense after...well, after a progression of time really, since forever ago until several short minutes ago, watching "Mansfield Park," based on a Jane Austen novel. One of the characters states, "There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time." And I think that that sums up what I've been thinking about love--any conclusion I've come to has likely been on the same level of intellect though not expressed nearly as well.
Perhaps it's the way words evade me when it comes to something so important; I can speak clearly, concisely, and professionally about nearly anything: education, money, society, and so on but when someone asks me for my personal feelings towards them, as a person, I often find my tongue and mind to simply not want to cooperate at all, and am left with such nonsense phrases as, "I can't explain it, I just do [love/care for you]!"
This is often inefficient and may have left the other person not believing me whatsoever. And, I don't blame him (or her). But this idea of forms of love--this portrays nearly every thought I've had as of late, and here's how (please note that these do not all describe the same people, or types of love):
I love you when get a text from you, showing that you're using your brain, unlike most highschoolers your age.
I love you when you call me, just to make sure I'm alright.
I love you when you wrap your arms tightly around me.
I love you when complain about work, because you trust me to not judge you based on your opinion of others.
I love you when you say exactly what I'm thinking.
I love you when you say something I can challenge.
I love you when I teach you something new; I also love you when I can learn from you at the same time.
I love you when you take risks for me.
I love you when you look into my eyes, and say nothing.
I love you when you ask me for help, it shows that you think highly of my abilities.
I love you when you take the time to explain what you're thinking; it shows you care about me.
I love you when you tell me I'm beautiful, or gorgeous; I know you never mean (solely) physically.
I love you when you talk about leaving town, and escaping to another state, or even country; it shows me that you have big dreams, and trust me to be able to dream with you.
I love you when you tell me you can't buy my groceries, but will gladly take me grocery shopping with you; it shows me that you value our time together.
I love you when you tell me about being afraid of the future; it shows me that you can depend on me to understand and help in whatever way I can.
I love you when you play me a new song, or recommend a new book; it shows that you want to incorporate me into one of your true loves.
I love you when you play the piano; the improvisation shows you are proud of your talent, and want to share it with me.
I love you when you raise your hand to ask me a question; it shows that you know I'll help you find an answer.
I love you when you call me up late at night; it shows that our old friendship still means to you what it means to me.
I love you when you write me postcards from other states and countries; it shows that, even when away, you're thinking of me.
I love you when I get a message saying, "Morseland tonight?" because it shows I've been incorporated into a strong group of friends with a true bond.
I love you when you kiss me; it tells me that you care much about making me happy as you do being happy.
I love you when I cook you dinner; your appreciation is worth far more than any meal I'll provide you.
I love you when you tell me you don't care that I walk differently, or eat differently, than most people; it shows that you embrace my differences rather than ostracizing me for them.
I love you when you ask my opinion on something, even if it's just clothing, because it shows me that you value my opinion as much as I value yours.
I love you when you tell me I need another surgery, or a new medicine, because it shows that you're trying to preserve my health for as long as possible.
I love you when you talk to me about other girls who are beautiful; it shows that you trust me not to get angry, or jealous. Instead, I learn to respect your opinion; you give me the same in return.
I love you even when you call me with a computer question; though at times it feels as though you're ungrateful, I know you wouldn't feel comfortable calling "just anyone," and it warms my heart to know that you can trust me to be honest and steadfast in helping you.
I love you when you look at me and tell me there is no God, because I believe the same thing, and I revel in the fact that we can bond over this.
I love you when you call me and share your drunken philosophies late at night (or early in the morning), because I have another opportunity to learn more about you.
I love you when you complain about your summer reading; even though you think you're "above" it, I know you'll learn something.
I love you when you text me something so hilariously funny that I have the urge to spit out whatever's in my mouth; it shows me that you know me well enough to know what I'll appreciate, and care about me enough to share it with me.
I love you every day that you don't smoke a cigarette; it shows me that even though you set a bad example for me growing up, you did have the sense to change your ways.
I love you every time you poke me on facebook, because even though we have each moved on to other relationships, it shows that you still think of me as I think of you, and that we can still find some common, communicative ground.
I love you when you tell me you love me; it inspires hope in me that maybe someone realizes love the way in which I have for so long.
So then, what is love? I look at some of the words I use above, and I see: inspire, show, share, teach, learn, opportunity, trust, value, appreciate, bond, friendship...just to name a few. I don't think that love is one thing; rather, love is a combination of some (if not all) of these things. For me, love is not what love is for you. Likewise, for Sally or Tommy or Billy or Jen, love is something entirely different. Love is a moment. And, the people we love the most are those with whom we spend the most loving moments. I'm lucky enough to have a few of those people in my life; though I certainly can't proclaim to spend every single solitary moment loving them, I can say that I spend many moments loving them...inspiring them, trusting them, learning from them, bonding with them, appreciating them, valuing them, sharing with them, showing them (or being shown by them), and so on. Te amo, te amo...it's not one thing. It's many things, and it's amazing.
As I was writing this list and thinking of the people I was describing, it came to my attention that I was not simply describing thoughts. Nor was I simply describing words. Nor was I simply describing actions. I was describing a combination of thoughts, words, and actions, and my reactions to them. As I think about how, when, where, or why I love someone else, I realize that I love each and every person in a different way at a different time. I realize that each person that I love holds a significant place in my life, and I can say that I love each person differently...because there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time, and with each passing moment, I love you in a different way.
From my short (nearly) 21 years of life, I have seen time and time again those that surround me ask "What is love? Do I really love him/her? How will I know when I truly love someone?"
Though I don't proclaim to be better educated than any with this pondering, I have lately given this idea much thought; I don't think I've come to a new and praise-worthy solution, but I can share what it means to me. It all started making sense after...well, after a progression of time really, since forever ago until several short minutes ago, watching "Mansfield Park," based on a Jane Austen novel. One of the characters states, "There are as many forms of love as there are moments in time." And I think that that sums up what I've been thinking about love--any conclusion I've come to has likely been on the same level of intellect though not expressed nearly as well.
Perhaps it's the way words evade me when it comes to something so important; I can speak clearly, concisely, and professionally about nearly anything: education, money, society, and so on but when someone asks me for my personal feelings towards them, as a person, I often find my tongue and mind to simply not want to cooperate at all, and am left with such nonsense phrases as, "I can't explain it, I just do [love/care for you]!"
This is often inefficient and may have left the other person not believing me whatsoever. And, I don't blame him (or her). But this idea of forms of love--this portrays nearly every thought I've had as of late, and here's how (please note that these do not all describe the same people, or types of love):
I love you when get a text from you, showing that you're using your brain, unlike most highschoolers your age.
I love you when you call me, just to make sure I'm alright.
I love you when you wrap your arms tightly around me.
I love you when complain about work, because you trust me to not judge you based on your opinion of others.
I love you when you say exactly what I'm thinking.
I love you when you say something I can challenge.
I love you when I teach you something new; I also love you when I can learn from you at the same time.
I love you when you take risks for me.
I love you when you look into my eyes, and say nothing.
I love you when you ask me for help, it shows that you think highly of my abilities.
I love you when you take the time to explain what you're thinking; it shows you care about me.
I love you when you tell me I'm beautiful, or gorgeous; I know you never mean (solely) physically.
I love you when you talk about leaving town, and escaping to another state, or even country; it shows me that you have big dreams, and trust me to be able to dream with you.
I love you when you tell me you can't buy my groceries, but will gladly take me grocery shopping with you; it shows me that you value our time together.
I love you when you tell me about being afraid of the future; it shows me that you can depend on me to understand and help in whatever way I can.
I love you when you play me a new song, or recommend a new book; it shows that you want to incorporate me into one of your true loves.
I love you when you play the piano; the improvisation shows you are proud of your talent, and want to share it with me.
I love you when you raise your hand to ask me a question; it shows that you know I'll help you find an answer.
I love you when you call me up late at night; it shows that our old friendship still means to you what it means to me.
I love you when you write me postcards from other states and countries; it shows that, even when away, you're thinking of me.
I love you when I get a message saying, "Morseland tonight?" because it shows I've been incorporated into a strong group of friends with a true bond.
I love you when you kiss me; it tells me that you care much about making me happy as you do being happy.
I love you when I cook you dinner; your appreciation is worth far more than any meal I'll provide you.
I love you when you tell me you don't care that I walk differently, or eat differently, than most people; it shows that you embrace my differences rather than ostracizing me for them.
I love you when you ask my opinion on something, even if it's just clothing, because it shows me that you value my opinion as much as I value yours.
I love you when you tell me I need another surgery, or a new medicine, because it shows that you're trying to preserve my health for as long as possible.
I love you when you talk to me about other girls who are beautiful; it shows that you trust me not to get angry, or jealous. Instead, I learn to respect your opinion; you give me the same in return.
I love you even when you call me with a computer question; though at times it feels as though you're ungrateful, I know you wouldn't feel comfortable calling "just anyone," and it warms my heart to know that you can trust me to be honest and steadfast in helping you.
I love you when you look at me and tell me there is no God, because I believe the same thing, and I revel in the fact that we can bond over this.
I love you when you call me and share your drunken philosophies late at night (or early in the morning), because I have another opportunity to learn more about you.
I love you when you complain about your summer reading; even though you think you're "above" it, I know you'll learn something.
I love you when you text me something so hilariously funny that I have the urge to spit out whatever's in my mouth; it shows me that you know me well enough to know what I'll appreciate, and care about me enough to share it with me.
I love you every day that you don't smoke a cigarette; it shows me that even though you set a bad example for me growing up, you did have the sense to change your ways.
I love you every time you poke me on facebook, because even though we have each moved on to other relationships, it shows that you still think of me as I think of you, and that we can still find some common, communicative ground.
I love you when you tell me you love me; it inspires hope in me that maybe someone realizes love the way in which I have for so long.
So then, what is love? I look at some of the words I use above, and I see: inspire, show, share, teach, learn, opportunity, trust, value, appreciate, bond, friendship...just to name a few. I don't think that love is one thing; rather, love is a combination of some (if not all) of these things. For me, love is not what love is for you. Likewise, for Sally or Tommy or Billy or Jen, love is something entirely different. Love is a moment. And, the people we love the most are those with whom we spend the most loving moments. I'm lucky enough to have a few of those people in my life; though I certainly can't proclaim to spend every single solitary moment loving them, I can say that I spend many moments loving them...inspiring them, trusting them, learning from them, bonding with them, appreciating them, valuing them, sharing with them, showing them (or being shown by them), and so on. Te amo, te amo...it's not one thing. It's many things, and it's amazing.
As I was writing this list and thinking of the people I was describing, it came to my attention that I was not simply describing thoughts. Nor was I simply describing words. Nor was I simply describing actions. I was describing a combination of thoughts, words, and actions, and my reactions to them. As I think about how, when, where, or why I love someone else, I realize that I love each and every person in a different way at a different time. I realize that each person that I love holds a significant place in my life, and I can say that I love each person differently...because there are as many forms of love as there are moments in time, and with each passing moment, I love you in a different way.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
ungrateful, bitch?
This weekend has been "the experience of a lifetime," truly. I'll begin writing this, though if it turns into a rant I may scrap it or come back and edit it at a later point in time. I'll try not to get too far off topic, though. :)
Last weekend, my mom's computer screen died. If you read the last blog (hint, hint) called "failure," you'll know all about that experience. Well, my mother had requested that I come "home" again this weekend to help her pick out a new computer (laptop). She also promised that I could pick out my birthday present (a pair of "real" headphones). So, Friday evening I took the Metra out to the suburbs. Within an hour of being there, I got into a fight with my mom AND my dad. Not the same fight--but awful all the same. I was seething pure rage, and couldn't stop sobbing. Thankfully, an old friend came and picked me up around midnight. We stayed out most of the night, and I strolled through the door around 4:30AM. We ate tacos (haha!) and then sat in a park, and looked at the stars, and talked for about 3-3.5 hours. We talked about everything--life, school, family, philosophy--it was absolutely what I needed. I came back home and slept, recharged for the next day (Saturday). On Saturday, I found out my mom was working both Saturday AND Sunday. I asked her why she made me travel out to the suburbs over the weekend if she was busy anyway--when was I supposed to go help her shop for this computer? She said she effed up, that she had forgotten she was scheduled to work on Sunday, and that we'd figure it out. Best Buy is open until 7PM on Sundays, and she only had to work until 4PM, so her plan was to go right after work.
In the meantime, she asked me for help in finishing up her schoolwork. She had to submit an entire portfolio for one of her classes by 11PM on Saturday night. At 9:50PM, I informed her that the program would lock her out after 11PM, if that's when the due date was set. She was unaware, and started cursing. Then, she asked me for my help. What was I supposed to say, no? So, I offered to help her. I thought I would just be typing assignments, since she still hand-writes all of her assignments before typing them. I typed one, and then she typed one. While she typed hers, she asked me to do one of the assignments for her. Yes, that's right, my own mother was asking me to do her homework for her. I don't think I've ever done someone else's work to that extent before. Sure, I've done the majority of the work in group projects, but this was different. My mother put her own, and only her own, name on this assignment. I, however, wrote the entire thing.
It was not a long assignment--just a one page reflection on her "philosophy" of teaching students with special needs. I wrote down my philosophy, and hoped she agreed. At the end, instead of thanking me, she simply pointed out that I left a typo near the end ("fins" instead of "finds"--not an easy one to catch). As it was, she only submitted the assignment two minutes before she would have gotten locked out of the program. She left the room, and fell asleep on the couch. But she didn't leave the room before yelling at me. I had checked out several things at Best Buy early in the day on Saturday, so that I could prepare myself for taking her shopping on Sunday. I had found about 3-4 computer models that were acceptable (in her price range, decent hard drives, processors, RAM, and so on), and I also found a pair of headphones with which I completely fell in love. After she submitted the work (on my computer, nonetheless), I asked if she'd like to see the headphones. After one quick glance, she snottily said, "Humph, you can show me headphones but no computer models! I see where your priorities are!" and then she left the room.
I was a little more than peeved, at this point, but I kept my cool, and went to sleep. I had awful dreams about her, but at least I didn't say anything to her face that I wanted to--then, I would have had even deeper problems.
Sunday morning came around, and she agreed to go to Best Buy shortly after 4PM. Before she left for work, she said something along the lines of "I want to talk your birthday surprise over with you at Best Buy, I think you'll be happy." I asked her why she could't tell me at home, and she said she didn't want anyone to overhear it. So, for those of you who know how curious I am, you know that all day this killed me--would I get the headphones? Would she make a further mess in my life? Who knows? I was nervous, but excited. Shortly after 4, she got home from work, and (after she changed, had a glass of iced tea, etc etc) we headed over to Best Buy.
On the way into the store, she mentioned that, because I had saved her all sorts of money (oh, yeah, I ordered all my brother's textbooks for school online this weekend--with my half.com/credit card, and had them shipped, saving around $200 compared to what she'd pay at his school), she decided she could go ahead and get me the headphones. She had originally wanted to spend about $100 on me, and then when I saved her $200, she realized she could probably spend $300 on me. Well isn't that nice! I was ecstatic.
We first stopped to look at the headphones ("Oh wow, all I hear is bass!") and she was sort of impressed, though still stressed about the $300 price tag. Then, I led her back to the computers. I showed her what I had it "narrowed down" to, and then I proceeded to talk a bit about each one, in terms that she (hopefully) could understand. I even had another customer (actually 2-3) asking me about computers, having me compare them, and giving them my opinion on different models. I guess I sounded like I knew what I was talking about (ha! No really, I do know a little bit about computers...). My mom was happy with her choice, and we made the purchases. While checking out our items, the salesman talked up the headphones I had picked out. He said that he had a pair, and loved them, and gave me a few "start up" tips and so on. I appreciated his advice; however, my mom had already told me that I'd have to wait until my birthday to get them. Actually, she wants to have a "party" in the suburbs the weekend following my birthday, and I'd have to wait until that time (or so I assumed, as I won't be traveling out there before that time). So, I politely thanked the man, and told him that I'd definitely take his advice--in four weeks, after I obtained the headphones. He looked at me strangely. I explained that they were a birthday present. He pretended to understand, and wished me the best.
On the way home, things took a turn for the worse. My mom started berating me for how ungrateful I am. "You have everything you want, and you can't even wait a few weeks so that I have something to wrap for your birthday? You think you should have this now? What have you done to deserve this?" I choked back the angry tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
Well, let's see, Mommy dearest. This weekend I:
-made a trip to the suburbs in rush-hour traffic, because it fit YOUR schedule.
-ordered $240 worth of textbooks, without you pre-paying me, and saved you about $200 in the process.
-cleaned my turtle's tank, bought new litter, and rearranged things so that he doesn't smell (something my parents promised to do when I moved out...).
-wrote an entire assignment that I will NOT get credit for, and helped you submit it minutes before the deadline.
-let you use my computer, so that you'd even get the stupid assignment submitted on time.
-sewed your son's shoes back together, so he can continue wearing them (they've only been broke for three months now...).
-looked through over 20 laptop models, and did a price/quality analysis, so that you could get the best deal for the money you were willing to spend.
-spent 2+ hours downloading and installing everything you needed on your computer, and even tried to provide over the phone support once I left/was on my way home.
-did NOT ask you once for money for food, pet supplies, or anything.
And I don't deserve anything? Do you know that the entire weekend, she didn't even thank me for my help, not once?! She did call me ungrateful about 20 times though, because I wanted to take my birthday present home three weeks early. Because in those three (four) weeks, I'll actually have a long commute to work, and one of my earbuds blew out this week; travelling on the el without headphones is pretty much hell, especially the 1.25 hours it takes me to get to work (and back). Basically, by the time I get my birthday present, it'll be time for school to start, and (though I'll still use them a lot!) I won't get a "marathon" listening session like I would if I were to take them on the el. I tried to point this out, but apparently this made me even more ungrateful.
It's like I can't win with the woman. All I did this weekend is give--give to her, give to my dad, give to my brother--and she couldn't even do one favor in return for me! Once I left with my dad to come back to my house, she started talking about me behind my back, to my brother. She was definitely talking smack, and Doug would not have it! (Man, I love that kid. He truly has my back). She started in on how ungrateful I was for "everything", and my brother wouldn't have it! He looked her in the eye, and said, "She worked for you all weekend, she doesn't have her birthday present yet, and she's not 21, what exactly should she be grateful for right now?" and he's absolutely right! My mom then turned and yelled at him, but he stood his ground and backed me up across the board.
So now let me ask, who's the ungrateful one? Yes, I know my mom has it hard, I know that she thinks her life sucks...but if she'd look past the end of her nose she might be able to see that she's making the rest of us miserable!
I know I take advantage of people sometimes (I think we all do), but I try to always keep myself in check a bit (quite a bit) better than that. I guess now I wait for the "birthday faerie" to decide to bring me my present...
"At least you have something to look forward to"...you ungrateful bitch.
Last weekend, my mom's computer screen died. If you read the last blog (hint, hint) called "failure," you'll know all about that experience. Well, my mother had requested that I come "home" again this weekend to help her pick out a new computer (laptop). She also promised that I could pick out my birthday present (a pair of "real" headphones). So, Friday evening I took the Metra out to the suburbs. Within an hour of being there, I got into a fight with my mom AND my dad. Not the same fight--but awful all the same. I was seething pure rage, and couldn't stop sobbing. Thankfully, an old friend came and picked me up around midnight. We stayed out most of the night, and I strolled through the door around 4:30AM. We ate tacos (haha!) and then sat in a park, and looked at the stars, and talked for about 3-3.5 hours. We talked about everything--life, school, family, philosophy--it was absolutely what I needed. I came back home and slept, recharged for the next day (Saturday). On Saturday, I found out my mom was working both Saturday AND Sunday. I asked her why she made me travel out to the suburbs over the weekend if she was busy anyway--when was I supposed to go help her shop for this computer? She said she effed up, that she had forgotten she was scheduled to work on Sunday, and that we'd figure it out. Best Buy is open until 7PM on Sundays, and she only had to work until 4PM, so her plan was to go right after work.
In the meantime, she asked me for help in finishing up her schoolwork. She had to submit an entire portfolio for one of her classes by 11PM on Saturday night. At 9:50PM, I informed her that the program would lock her out after 11PM, if that's when the due date was set. She was unaware, and started cursing. Then, she asked me for my help. What was I supposed to say, no? So, I offered to help her. I thought I would just be typing assignments, since she still hand-writes all of her assignments before typing them. I typed one, and then she typed one. While she typed hers, she asked me to do one of the assignments for her. Yes, that's right, my own mother was asking me to do her homework for her. I don't think I've ever done someone else's work to that extent before. Sure, I've done the majority of the work in group projects, but this was different. My mother put her own, and only her own, name on this assignment. I, however, wrote the entire thing.
It was not a long assignment--just a one page reflection on her "philosophy" of teaching students with special needs. I wrote down my philosophy, and hoped she agreed. At the end, instead of thanking me, she simply pointed out that I left a typo near the end ("fins" instead of "finds"--not an easy one to catch). As it was, she only submitted the assignment two minutes before she would have gotten locked out of the program. She left the room, and fell asleep on the couch. But she didn't leave the room before yelling at me. I had checked out several things at Best Buy early in the day on Saturday, so that I could prepare myself for taking her shopping on Sunday. I had found about 3-4 computer models that were acceptable (in her price range, decent hard drives, processors, RAM, and so on), and I also found a pair of headphones with which I completely fell in love. After she submitted the work (on my computer, nonetheless), I asked if she'd like to see the headphones. After one quick glance, she snottily said, "Humph, you can show me headphones but no computer models! I see where your priorities are!" and then she left the room.
I was a little more than peeved, at this point, but I kept my cool, and went to sleep. I had awful dreams about her, but at least I didn't say anything to her face that I wanted to--then, I would have had even deeper problems.
Sunday morning came around, and she agreed to go to Best Buy shortly after 4PM. Before she left for work, she said something along the lines of "I want to talk your birthday surprise over with you at Best Buy, I think you'll be happy." I asked her why she could't tell me at home, and she said she didn't want anyone to overhear it. So, for those of you who know how curious I am, you know that all day this killed me--would I get the headphones? Would she make a further mess in my life? Who knows? I was nervous, but excited. Shortly after 4, she got home from work, and (after she changed, had a glass of iced tea, etc etc) we headed over to Best Buy.
On the way into the store, she mentioned that, because I had saved her all sorts of money (oh, yeah, I ordered all my brother's textbooks for school online this weekend--with my half.com/credit card, and had them shipped, saving around $200 compared to what she'd pay at his school), she decided she could go ahead and get me the headphones. She had originally wanted to spend about $100 on me, and then when I saved her $200, she realized she could probably spend $300 on me. Well isn't that nice! I was ecstatic.
We first stopped to look at the headphones ("Oh wow, all I hear is bass!") and she was sort of impressed, though still stressed about the $300 price tag. Then, I led her back to the computers. I showed her what I had it "narrowed down" to, and then I proceeded to talk a bit about each one, in terms that she (hopefully) could understand. I even had another customer (actually 2-3) asking me about computers, having me compare them, and giving them my opinion on different models. I guess I sounded like I knew what I was talking about (ha! No really, I do know a little bit about computers...). My mom was happy with her choice, and we made the purchases. While checking out our items, the salesman talked up the headphones I had picked out. He said that he had a pair, and loved them, and gave me a few "start up" tips and so on. I appreciated his advice; however, my mom had already told me that I'd have to wait until my birthday to get them. Actually, she wants to have a "party" in the suburbs the weekend following my birthday, and I'd have to wait until that time (or so I assumed, as I won't be traveling out there before that time). So, I politely thanked the man, and told him that I'd definitely take his advice--in four weeks, after I obtained the headphones. He looked at me strangely. I explained that they were a birthday present. He pretended to understand, and wished me the best.
On the way home, things took a turn for the worse. My mom started berating me for how ungrateful I am. "You have everything you want, and you can't even wait a few weeks so that I have something to wrap for your birthday? You think you should have this now? What have you done to deserve this?" I choked back the angry tears stinging the backs of my eyes.
Well, let's see, Mommy dearest. This weekend I:
-made a trip to the suburbs in rush-hour traffic, because it fit YOUR schedule.
-ordered $240 worth of textbooks, without you pre-paying me, and saved you about $200 in the process.
-cleaned my turtle's tank, bought new litter, and rearranged things so that he doesn't smell (something my parents promised to do when I moved out...).
-wrote an entire assignment that I will NOT get credit for, and helped you submit it minutes before the deadline.
-let you use my computer, so that you'd even get the stupid assignment submitted on time.
-sewed your son's shoes back together, so he can continue wearing them (they've only been broke for three months now...).
-looked through over 20 laptop models, and did a price/quality analysis, so that you could get the best deal for the money you were willing to spend.
-spent 2+ hours downloading and installing everything you needed on your computer, and even tried to provide over the phone support once I left/was on my way home.
-did NOT ask you once for money for food, pet supplies, or anything.
And I don't deserve anything? Do you know that the entire weekend, she didn't even thank me for my help, not once?! She did call me ungrateful about 20 times though, because I wanted to take my birthday present home three weeks early. Because in those three (four) weeks, I'll actually have a long commute to work, and one of my earbuds blew out this week; travelling on the el without headphones is pretty much hell, especially the 1.25 hours it takes me to get to work (and back). Basically, by the time I get my birthday present, it'll be time for school to start, and (though I'll still use them a lot!) I won't get a "marathon" listening session like I would if I were to take them on the el. I tried to point this out, but apparently this made me even more ungrateful.
It's like I can't win with the woman. All I did this weekend is give--give to her, give to my dad, give to my brother--and she couldn't even do one favor in return for me! Once I left with my dad to come back to my house, she started talking about me behind my back, to my brother. She was definitely talking smack, and Doug would not have it! (Man, I love that kid. He truly has my back). She started in on how ungrateful I was for "everything", and my brother wouldn't have it! He looked her in the eye, and said, "She worked for you all weekend, she doesn't have her birthday present yet, and she's not 21, what exactly should she be grateful for right now?" and he's absolutely right! My mom then turned and yelled at him, but he stood his ground and backed me up across the board.
So now let me ask, who's the ungrateful one? Yes, I know my mom has it hard, I know that she thinks her life sucks...but if she'd look past the end of her nose she might be able to see that she's making the rest of us miserable!
I know I take advantage of people sometimes (I think we all do), but I try to always keep myself in check a bit (quite a bit) better than that. I guess now I wait for the "birthday faerie" to decide to bring me my present...
"At least you have something to look forward to"...you ungrateful bitch.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Goodbye, Goodnight
I just got home from a goodbye/going away party.
I know, I know, I should be "used to" friends moving away, with college and everything, but I can honestly say that this person moving away is really getting to me.
I'm actually losing two really important people in the next few weeks. Joel, a tutor at Family Matters, is moving to the east coast on Monday. And, my coworker/boss/friend Jenn is moving to West Virginia mid-August. I'm sure I'll blog again closer to when Jenn leaves...so tonight I'm going to focus on Joel.
Joel is the tutor I have always wanted. Haha, that sounds strange, I know, but I don't think I could sincerely ask for a better tutor than Joel.
I remember the first time I ever met Joel--he seemed different: nervous, intimidated, but eager to help at the same time. I met him quickly, and threw him into a room with his student. Joel had a particularly hard role to fill-he was taking the place of a tutor who had to leave suddenly. Joel was definitely up to the task, though I had my doubts at first. He checked in with me several times without his tutoring session--I was as encouraging as possible. After a few sessions, he and his student started to bond a bit more (I mean, as much as a 30something year old male tutor can bond with a 12-13 year old teen boy).
Both Joel and his student appear quiet to the outsider. They seem shy, maybe, or just...different. Looking back, I don't think we've paired a pair (haha English, I hate you!) better than Joel and his student. They were both procrastinators that realized the value in doing hard work to get yourself somewhere in life. Joel could follow a lesson plan to a tee, but he also knew how improvise when needed. Joel was also usually the first tutor to submit comments and recommendations to me for the following week's planning. Joel stayed on task, and on schedule. He let me know weeks ahead of time if he had to miss a tutoring session, and would reschedule on another night (convenient for both him and his student). Joel grew a lot as a tutor, and a person, during his time at Family Matters. When he saw how tight-knit a community we had the opportunity to be, he went out of his way to re-organize "Morseland nights" to try to build relationships between tutors. I can truly say that some of the best nights I've had have been spent with the Family Matters crew: Me, Joel, Jenn, Gretchen, Brad, (and later) Christian and Bridget.
Being at Family Matters, and with this crew especially, makes me feel at home. Even this summer, we had a great time playing frisbee (despite the fact that the first time we played, my hand turned black and blue and swelled up like a mofo! Excuse my French...), going out for food (and drinks), and tonight, at Joel's going away party. Tonight, I hadn't seen Gretchen, Christian, Bridget, and Joel in a long time, but we caught up quickly and enjoyed hours of conversation (and food and drinks...see the pattern here...hah). Gretchen and Bridget both gave me a big hug (Lana! How are you! We've missed you!) and Christian and Joel gave me the one armed "hey what's up" squeeze. It was so good to see them... I've spent most of my summer working, or waiting for people to get back to me on hanging out... and I guess I forgot how much I missed spending time to them, and how much it means to me to have such a cool group of people around. They even asked about the guy I was dating the last time we saw each other...which was a really nice touch, one that I appreciated greatly. It's one thing to ask about me--they know me--but to remember to ask about someone they've only met a time or two--well, it shows how much they truly care.
Wow, amazing how I went from singing Joel's praises to singing the crew's praises. I think that's mostly because I see us as a unit--a piece of which is moving away bright and early Monday morning.
I'm still sad--I don't know if I'll ever see Joel again. Isn't that crazy? We don't think about this too often, but "each time" you see someone could be your last. I didn't think that the last time I saw my poppy (Father's Day) would be the last...and alas, it was. I don't know which is better--not knowing, like with Poppy, or knowing--like with Joel. I can't guarantee I'll ever see him again, and I can't guarantee I won't, either. I do know that I'll always hold him in high esteem; a person like Joel is not easily forgotten.
The song that comes to mind most when I think about people leaving (especially people that have significantly impacted my life) is this one: here, "For Good" from Wicked.
"It well may be that we may never meet again, in this lifetime, so let me say before we part. So much of me is made from what I've learned from you. You'll be with me, like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine, by being my friend."
Goodnight, and goodbye, Joel. You've been a true friend, an amazing tutor, and an excellent role model. May you encounter only the best on the east coast.
I know, I know, I should be "used to" friends moving away, with college and everything, but I can honestly say that this person moving away is really getting to me.
I'm actually losing two really important people in the next few weeks. Joel, a tutor at Family Matters, is moving to the east coast on Monday. And, my coworker/boss/friend Jenn is moving to West Virginia mid-August. I'm sure I'll blog again closer to when Jenn leaves...so tonight I'm going to focus on Joel.
Joel is the tutor I have always wanted. Haha, that sounds strange, I know, but I don't think I could sincerely ask for a better tutor than Joel.
I remember the first time I ever met Joel--he seemed different: nervous, intimidated, but eager to help at the same time. I met him quickly, and threw him into a room with his student. Joel had a particularly hard role to fill-he was taking the place of a tutor who had to leave suddenly. Joel was definitely up to the task, though I had my doubts at first. He checked in with me several times without his tutoring session--I was as encouraging as possible. After a few sessions, he and his student started to bond a bit more (I mean, as much as a 30something year old male tutor can bond with a 12-13 year old teen boy).
Both Joel and his student appear quiet to the outsider. They seem shy, maybe, or just...different. Looking back, I don't think we've paired a pair (haha English, I hate you!) better than Joel and his student. They were both procrastinators that realized the value in doing hard work to get yourself somewhere in life. Joel could follow a lesson plan to a tee, but he also knew how improvise when needed. Joel was also usually the first tutor to submit comments and recommendations to me for the following week's planning. Joel stayed on task, and on schedule. He let me know weeks ahead of time if he had to miss a tutoring session, and would reschedule on another night (convenient for both him and his student). Joel grew a lot as a tutor, and a person, during his time at Family Matters. When he saw how tight-knit a community we had the opportunity to be, he went out of his way to re-organize "Morseland nights" to try to build relationships between tutors. I can truly say that some of the best nights I've had have been spent with the Family Matters crew: Me, Joel, Jenn, Gretchen, Brad, (and later) Christian and Bridget.
Being at Family Matters, and with this crew especially, makes me feel at home. Even this summer, we had a great time playing frisbee (despite the fact that the first time we played, my hand turned black and blue and swelled up like a mofo! Excuse my French...), going out for food (and drinks), and tonight, at Joel's going away party. Tonight, I hadn't seen Gretchen, Christian, Bridget, and Joel in a long time, but we caught up quickly and enjoyed hours of conversation (and food and drinks...see the pattern here...hah). Gretchen and Bridget both gave me a big hug (Lana! How are you! We've missed you!) and Christian and Joel gave me the one armed "hey what's up" squeeze. It was so good to see them... I've spent most of my summer working, or waiting for people to get back to me on hanging out... and I guess I forgot how much I missed spending time to them, and how much it means to me to have such a cool group of people around. They even asked about the guy I was dating the last time we saw each other...which was a really nice touch, one that I appreciated greatly. It's one thing to ask about me--they know me--but to remember to ask about someone they've only met a time or two--well, it shows how much they truly care.
Wow, amazing how I went from singing Joel's praises to singing the crew's praises. I think that's mostly because I see us as a unit--a piece of which is moving away bright and early Monday morning.
I'm still sad--I don't know if I'll ever see Joel again. Isn't that crazy? We don't think about this too often, but "each time" you see someone could be your last. I didn't think that the last time I saw my poppy (Father's Day) would be the last...and alas, it was. I don't know which is better--not knowing, like with Poppy, or knowing--like with Joel. I can't guarantee I'll ever see him again, and I can't guarantee I won't, either. I do know that I'll always hold him in high esteem; a person like Joel is not easily forgotten.
The song that comes to mind most when I think about people leaving (especially people that have significantly impacted my life) is this one: here, "For Good" from Wicked.
"It well may be that we may never meet again, in this lifetime, so let me say before we part. So much of me is made from what I've learned from you. You'll be with me, like a handprint on my heart. And now whatever way our stories end, I know you have rewritten mine, by being my friend."
Goodnight, and goodbye, Joel. You've been a true friend, an amazing tutor, and an excellent role model. May you encounter only the best on the east coast.
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