if a flame's what it takes to remember my name

It is my hope that in this blog, you occasionally read and think, "that's exactly what I needed to hear" or "thats where I am at" or "i want to remember that if i am in that position" but more importantly, that you find you can follow my ramblings and that you see how the lyrics presented go so hand in hand with the post. Sometimes the thoughts behind the post lead me to the music and sometimes its the other way around. But, they are always meant to be understood together by the reader and if your interpretation is getting lost, then I am losing my direction as a writer. All of these things are welcomed in emails and comments, so do not hesitate to keep giving me the feedback. That's why I write, for the feedback. 

Here's a culmination of several posts (see tagged labels below) and something that's really on my heart.

"this is a call to the color blind.  this is an ‘I-owe-You’.

I'm stranded behind the horizon line, tied up with something true.

Why is it not my time?

What is there more to learn?

      Shed this skin I've been tripping in

Never to quite return

Someday I'll fly, Someday I'll SOAR

              Someday, I'll be SO DAMN MUCH MORE

Cause I'm bigger than my body gives me credit for

I'm bigger than my body, now

Maybe I'll tangle in the power lines

And it might be over in a second's time

But I'll gladly go down in a flame.. 

       if a flame's what it takes to remember my name. 

-John Mayer, Bigger Than My Body

This winter has been extremely strange for me. I have had some really emotional highs and some rough, rock bottom emotional lows. I know those highs and lows aren't going away anytime soon. As a friend said to me regarding this law school application process, "Each step of this process has had its challenges and NOW its decision time..." In no way do I intend to ramble about my law school applications, but it's important for where I want to go, so hang in here with me for a second. As I spent several weekends laying around in bed because I was so sick, it's given days feeling well an entirely new brightness.

The decision to pack 3 suitcases and move to Madrid, Spain happened really fast even if it was something I had wanted for years before the Delta flight carried me here in October. I didn't have much time to really consider what I would be DOING. I teach teenagers. I am in a high school with students from all levels of English proficiency and all different backgrounds. With absolutely no education background, I have zero experience to be teaching English to highschoolers in Spain. Daily, I am faced with a question or word that I do not know the answer to. What is the difference in meaning in the sentence, "My mom likes everything including chocolate" and "My mom likes anything including chocolate." Nearly all of the textbooks are British English and I don't recognize some words or phrases or idioms because I speak American English. And for a percentage of my words, they can only be classified as Southern American English. The Californian English teacher that I work with argued with me when I said "I sleep in a bite guard at night." he said, "no, you sleep WITH a bite guard." this argument lasted ten more minutes. I say, you sleep WITH someone, WITH two pillows, but IN socks or IN pajama pants... maybe I just speak incorrectly. I don't know. But there are a lot of days when I think, "jeez, I suck at this job." Students blatantly skip class and do not study or participate or pay attention. The details of whats involved in "teaching English" is only a quarter of my job. The other part of my life here is battling the numerous things that drive me bat crazy, balancing the culture shock of the lackadaisical attitude, and other mounting frustrations unique to Spain but not so different than any other frustrations inherently attached with WORKING.
    All of this juxtaposition-ed against the time I had been dedicating to working on law school applications and carefully crafting beautiful essays that prophetically explained why I was anxiously awaiting an acceptance letter to THAT particular University, was more exhausting than I could properly explain to anyone. I was spending a large amount of emotional and physical energy on thinking about nothing except my future while feeling incredibly trapped in my current moment. I couldn't appropriately connect the two and I couldn't accurately justify how one led to the other or vice versa. For a majority of my mental capactiy, I was dreaming big dreams about what I want to do with my future, what I will do in fifteen years, the goals I have for myself and for my career. Why I want a law degree and what I am going to do with it. These essays took something out of me that I cannot explain. Telling someone, even if its a complete stranger, that you have dreams to change the way people think about genocide, the Holocaust and Human Rights meant for me that one day down the road, if I do not actually accomplish those things, I will be admitting to failure. Seeing these passions on paper scared me because they are the only reason why I have worked so hard. And if "those things" (any of my goals or dreams) are not meant, I will have failed myself, my wonderful support system and the law school that chose to accept me. But, this is big kid life and I am just beginning to grow into it.
    Now that I am out from the umbrella of the application process, I feel like I can breathe easier. But walking with what's become quite a weight on my shoulders of this looming GIGANTIC decision is becoming more difficult.
I know that I am going to miss Spain immensely. I am going to miss all the people that I live here with, who help hold me together just as much as my precious American friends. And while I am trying to make this huge decision, my one goal is to remember the ground beneath my feet.
To appreciate THIS precious moment.
To understand why I am receiving the decisions in this order and how to interpret each school's response.
To gain insight on WHO i AM, who i want TO BE, where I come FROM and where i am GOING.
To work on bettering myself in ways that make me happier, more pleasing as a servant to God, a better daughter, a better friend and a better citizen of this world.
To enjoy the days of sunshine and the days of rain, equally.
To basque in this phase of life, because I will never again hold it in my palms as I am now.

And, that is my challenge to you today, to do the same thing.

Walk this tight rope with me, of keeping your eyes focused on where you are walking, and each individual brick beneath your feet that is leading you there.

when we're wounded together

i have been silent on Facebook, Twitter, this blog, my personal journal. i am in repair amidst a beautiful mess. i am in recovery mode. too many corners in my mind. so much to do to set my heart right. i'm not together, but i am getting there.
   thankfully, all the stuff that i think i need was avoided by the mouth of the tornado. i feel too lucky and too blessed to complain about how the last weeks of my senior year evaporated while i sat in the basement thinking about what a waste of my time this tornado warning was. i walked up the stairs still ignorant and ten minutes later, i was wondering if my friends on fifteenth street were alive. i didn't know tornados actually picked up houses and killed people like in the fucking Wizard of Oz. but, this indeed does happen and it has across the south. the destruction and damage goes beyond the ruined houses, buildings, families, injured, deaths and seeps into emotions that cannot be described.
     these past few days though, i have witnessed broken people helping in unimaginable ways. i have seen a community so tightly bound together determined to rebuild stronger. needs have not only been met, but have been exceeded. the donation locations are over-flooded with clothing. i've been amazed. its a beautiful mess. in the oddest way, there is much more than pain and hurt when you drive through the hardest hit areas. there is resilience as expressed by the mayor. there is beauty. strength. i walked around in awe, submerged in (the) contradictions.
to those who helped volunteer, who donated their "precious stuff," their time and their money, to those who were affected, who prayed, who offered kind words to ease hurt, you have done more than you know. the seeds that you have planted make a larger difference than you will ever know. i have been amazed by you. i have watched and been encouraged to join in your courage and faith. your efforts go against the selfish norm. like picking up trash in dresses.
     driving home from Tuscaloosa after taking every ounce of evidence that i ever once lived in that little apartment, i stumbled upon this older song and played it on repeat for almost an hour. i can't help but thinking that Tuscaloosa and those who love the town are a beautiful mess.
it kind of hurts when the kind of words you write, turn themselves into knives. the happy graduation wishes are received with salt, bitterness, while images of the storm fill my mind. it was never suppose to be like this.
   it's okay to be strong but needy. humble but greedy. because i know that (my) mind is rather reckless. well, i guess it just suggests that this is just what happiness is. hey, what a beautiful mess this is... and I have to believe that in this madness, there's no shame in being crazy. 
i love what he sings triumphantly at the end. shit happens. times change. hearts break. but it's no big deal. it's nothing we can't handle when we are wounded together. and isn't that exactly what we are? wounded but TOGETHER?
so as i feel the burden of describing how bad it is, i can find comfort in my friends and foundation who is all experiencing exactly what i am. because here we are. two days after what was suppose to be our graduation after a week completely different than what we had ever envisioned. and from here, we WILL heal. together.

through TIMELESS words and PRICELESS pictures, we'll FLY like birds out of this Earth.
and times, they turn. and hearts disfigure.
but that's no concern when we're wounded together.


here we are. we're still here. we are waiting closure. and we will get it. we will get praise for our efforts and our hard work and our impressive accomplishments because we deserve it. and we will continue to love, pray, support in all ways possible for as long as needed and even after. this spirit must carry through for months to come as we save ourselves and start again. and when we do get that closure and when we start healing, we will confidently say, the wait was so worth it.
thanks for reading this novel of a post and i hope it provided you with some comfort. i am still fighting urges to lament about how unfair all of this is from every single angle. i still have not cried. but i have to believe that we will understand why this happened in the end and that it's all going to work out more beautifully than we could have constructed on our own.
John Mayer says in the video link posted above, "the lyric idea for In Repair came from this kind of knowledge about the way people are. that we're always either on the way down or on the way up and you never really enjoy the moment when it's all put together 'cause it probably never really is. those moments where things come apart is only setting you up for that moment when you put it back together again. and you're so surprised that it's coming back together again. so there's this beauty of the idea of being in repair."

i count the steps from where i am to where i started

these empty halls held our disease before we caught it.

what a poetic way of putting it. i'm also a fan of the "slow dancing in a burning room" by John Mayer. i cannot stop listening to Andrew Belle. I thought maybe this obsession would pass, but it's just worsening. He needs a new album asap. I can let him have my journals to inspire some more lyrics that I feel like he writes intimately about my life. I love this guy. I'm serious. Okay, now to the post.

I was having an intellectual conversation with a dear friend from high school last weekend to satisfy a longing for one. I get these intellectual conversation itches that few people care to indulge me in. But, I am deeply grateful for those that do. When someone is up for one on the Holocaust, time and place I am there.
Anyway, we were talking about phases of life. It's odd how if a book ends poorly, it leaves a sour taste in your mouth for the entire book, regardless of how much you liked the majority of it. When one chapter ends unexpectedly, or not how you would prefer, that's when you have to remember that you are not the author but instead the reader. You have to pick it back up and keep reading. Eventually, you realize why that was written the way it was, and you're not upset about it anymore. As Death Cab puts it, "when memories of me seem more like bad dreams."

I am a pro memory-holder-onto-er. But in thinking about the importance and uniqueness of each "phase," event, memory, moment, I've made an outstanding distinction. No one particular event, person, tragedy, dramatic episode, accomplishment, test, disaster, hook up, break-up, embarrassing moment, group project or professor will stand out over another. All of these things have encompassed my collegiate experience, or as referred to by some, the "best four years of my life." However, I'd like to argue (as stated in my prophecy I do quite a bit of) that every phase of life is going to be sweet in its own way. Each letter forming words that create strings of sentences to slowly piece together a huge story. It's my job to make sure that story is one of love with no regrets.

I loved taking naps in kindergarten, but I'd really rather not go back to learning how to read. Talk about room for embarrassing moments! I thoroughly enjoyed the breathing exercise that we use to do as a cast before competition play practice or the massages after a long run-through. But if tomorrow, someone appeared with the option to go back to GAC uniforms, regulations, Dr. Morris and busy work, I would mull it over and kindly reply, "no that's okay. I'll stay right here." This is how I want to think about college. I am not terrified of this G-word, ggggradduatttion. I am thrilled for it. I worked too hard for that day to be filled with depressing terror of what's to come and that my world as I know it has ended. So, I'm done with feeling guilty.

Maybe cyncism has creeped in too deeply, and maybe I am just excited for change. Maybe I do love the idea of an "open door" a little too much and that my shaking for my running shoes is catching up with me with remarkably great timing (for once). But, there is no reason to fret. I remember thinking that fifth grade graduation was the end of the world as I bawled hysterically walking the halls of the elementary school. What a joke. At the time, I was legitimately concerned. The very idea of junior high was filled with unknowns and rumors that you had to write in cursive for each class. In retrospect, I don't think I have ever been forced to write in cursive, ever. In fact, much of the time it's the opposite.

I thought I would never speak to those friends again. Those friends that mattered then (actually mattered), still matter now. I don't just still talk to them, I love them even more now than ever. One of whom I called a hot crying mess a few days ago. He gave me a solution and said he'd have vodka waiting for me as soon as I entered Roswell.

I have great friends that have gotten me to this point, gotten me through all kinds of shit and will continue to be there. When they fade (if they do), new faces will surface to help hold me together. Thank you Facebook, blogspot, Twitter, Skype and the not-so-glorious "network" for reassuring me that whoever I want to stay in touch with that wants to stay in touch with me will have plenty of tools for doing so at their fingertips. Though, it is natural at an event as emotional as Senior chapter or intense questioning about post-graduation plans to have "back and forth and in between like my emotion" (Andrew Belle, Static Waves) I'm standing solidly on optimism. When my eyes scan the printed words of "Oh, The Places You'll Go!" I have by my mirror, I am reminded that I have great things waiting for me. Whatever the hell those may be. We ALL do. Regardless of what phase of life we are on. I can't wait to travel to Thailand, to live in Europe, to live in NY, to deposit my first 4 digit paycheck, to stand proudly as a bridesmaid in a dear friend's wedding, to frame my master's degree, to hold my father's shaking hand walking down an aisle of my own, to order business cards that have impressive credentials following my last name, to fall so deeply in love no words can describe the feelings, to win my first trial, to support Reggy and the shelter monthly, to have an excuse to eat cake nonstop all day long because I am pregnant, to run a complete mile without decrepitating exhaustion, to sign the line with my name signifying I own my own house, to look at my first born in a face that resembles my own...

Who knows which of those things will occur and in what order, perhaps all of them will. I refuse to be convinced that at 22, I have expended the best years of my life. Regardless of how wonderful those 22 years have been lived. As "I count the steps from where I am, to where I started" (Andrew Belle, Static Waves), what an insane journey its been. But I am leaving it, regardless of whose permission I have or have not received and going onto something equally great, just great in a different way.

All things are good in their own time. And for this, it is time. As I painted on a canvas as a gift for a friend freshman year, it's time to return to a bumper-sticker inspiration. In the next three weeks, I will live it up and drink it down. Laugh it off, avoid bull shit and take chances, without regrets because at one point, everything was exactly what I wanted.
What I really needed was to reminded last week that "I am the captain of this ship, curious hands and fingertips. It's for no one but me to say what direction I shall turn in now." (Dave Matthews, Captain)