That thing I said in class just now ....

"I think somebody needs to kill Michael!"

Even in context while Michael was playing Montezuma being killed by Cortes and the Spanish explorers in their class play, it seemed like an awkward thing to say.

Almost as awkward as my student pronouncing the missionaries in our history book "Cath-oholics."

Welcome to life in the Fourth Grade!

An elementary course on making friends

Today when I got to school one of my students looked up at me and excitedly shrieked, "Messy hair!!!"

After feeling embarrassed for a few moments, I decided she actually must have just felt a special connection to me, since her pretty blond hair is regularly a bit of a rat's nest. And it made me a little more okay with her pointing out that I am sporting a slightly more disheveled look today.

Only second to the enjoyment my students get when my hair is a disaster is how pleased they are when I flip out and jump "5 feet in the air" when the fire alarm goes off. They could laugh about that for hours!

And they did.

Actually.... they still are.

once upon a time it was the year 2012

and in that year I did not die. Though perhaps I went into hiding for a bit. Maybe I haven't come out yet completely. But I can't move on without saying something.

Last year was... not really a year. It was not one. A whole. A unified entity.

I think of last year and I feel I lived so many lives in so little time. It is a little scary. And a little hard to explain--being many people. And yet only one.

2012 started smack dab in the middle of my life in Spain. I rang in the new year with my Spain family in the living room of that house where I lived that part of my life. We celebrated with food and dancing and music and joy. Just a year later and it feels like an eternity ago.

The women of my Spain family!

A reason to go home.  (photo by Spencer Boerup)

A month later, in February, I was home. I was celebrating again. This time, the marriage of a dear best amazing darling friend. It was like being picked up and dropped, for a few days, right into the middle of a life I hadn't lived for years--my friends and family together again for the first time in more than a year for some of us. It was magical. And hard. And wonderful and frightening and short.



Within a week, I was back in my Spain life. Teaching. Traveling. Hanging out with friends and alone and living as if it was all normal and real. Dating and breaking up. Laughing and crying and just being. Until it was done. And there were goodbyes and endings and unanswerable questions about futures. As there usually are.

Half way through 2012. Just turned 25.
Florence, Italy.

I left Spain on my own. I spent my 25th birthday as a tourist somewhere in Tuscan Italy, in the middle of a new adventure that was, for the first time, mine alone. Post-Spain. Pre-NewTucson. I wandered through Italy and fell in love with the beautiful landscapes and churches and paintings and history. I drifted through Paris and was enchanted with everything, even though it was sometimes cold, even in July. I ate the best falafel of my life and entered the homes of great artists and felt like the very air there made the world and people and myself lovelier somehow. I decided that my next language would be French.

(I'm not joking, but I should be.) 

Dad and me at The Alhambra.
Granada, Spain.

Days later, in mid-July, I was traipsing through southern Spain with my Dad. Driving on back roads through beautiful countryside. Hiking through otherworldly rock formations. Floating in the salty sea waters of the Mediterranean. Trying to take it all in. But already being pulled into what was next.

When I arrived in Tucson at 11:30 pm on July 29, I was already scheduled to attend training for my new job at 8 am the next morning. In the most unlikely turn of events, I was already a teacher. A 4th grade teacher at a little charter school. And the next unbearably new part of my life had started.   right at the end of July. Without pomp or ceremony. Without time to wrap anything up or become (re)acquainted with this new home. What was had ended and what would be was already bulldozing a new path I hardly had time to consider before launching myself into it.

The last 5 months of 2012 were a blur. A terrifying, glorious mess. An education and a re-education. A new beginning. A return to the past. I still hardly know what to do with those months. They disappeared faster than my brain could take them in. I was home for the first time in 6 months or 7 years, depending on how you look at in. But really, I was in a new life and a new place, not even knowing the street names (anymore). There was no time to think or process, there was barely time to breathe. Luckily, I had my family. My friends. Such good friends! And zumba classes and running and great co-workers and funny moments and busy-good weekends. I even went rock climbing--a new love!

Then it was over.

Well, sort of. Because the year and the phase are not the same thing.

I still don't know what to make of 2012. Except that it is all a blessing. One more piece of my life. Of my heart. Of my soul. Of who I am and will be. Whoever that is.

With that, I wish you all an abundance of peace and love, wherever this crazy life takes you!
xo

A little of nothing

I should say something. I guess. Because it has been so long. Or because there are so many things to say (as usual). Or because I just want to.

And yet, despite all of that, about the only things I have to comment on are:

1. Teaching is really hard. Some days I feel okay about it. Some days I wish I had the internet set up at my apartment so I could start looking for a new gig.
2. I finally read the Hunger Games series, and despite a complete lack of confidence that I would be very impressed, I actually really enjoyed the books. They were interesting, well written and thought provoking. They were written for a young audience, obviously (though sometimes the gore was a bit much. I know, I'm sensitive.). So on a Young Adult Fiction scale from about a Twilight to a Harry Potter, they rank about a 7. Not bad at all. And I do recommend them to anyone who has held out like me. Worth the read.
3. As you may have guessed from #1, I am now in a new apartment. On my own. I really like it, though I am still not entirely moved in or unpacked. The biggest problem is cockroaches. I think I pretty much took care of that with some Raid Bug Barrier, but the thought of these prehistoric (are they really?) beasts has interrupted my normal life quite a bit. I have terrible thoughts of them crawling on my clothes and cups and plates and spoons which makes it hard for me to use or touch anything without compulsively washing the object and my hands repeatedly. I imagine the creatures waiting until my eyes are closed to crawl out of hidden spaces and walk on me during my sleep. I can't stand too near the sink when I wash my face, in case they sneak out of the drain or from the cupboards under the sink while I have my eyes tight shut to keep the soap out (even though I always check under there first), thus I get a lot of water on the floor trying to get the water to my face from more than an arms length away. I blast scalding water down the drain anytime I am going to take a shower, just as a precaution. When I get home I open the door from a good distance back and make a sweeping appraisal to make sure it's alright to enter. If I need to turn a light on I always look at the switch first to make sure there isn't a bug on the wall. And I don't enter any space without the lights. I will not be taken by surprise. I keep every drained closed at all times and periodically spay things with an extra layer of bug spray so that it never has the opportunity to wear off. If anything moves of makes a shadow I jump and flinch. And even though I haven't found any cockroaches dead or alive for several days, I open cupboards and move plates and bags and boxes slowly and from safe distances, to give myself time to run, if necessary. I hope to be able to relax again... someday.
4. I am feeling guilty about all the people I owe phone calls. I know it's not really new and I am generally bad at keeping in touch, but I have been especially guilty of this since I got back from Spain. Please forgive me.
5. I want to hike to Romero Pools. Soon.

There are probably more important things I should add, but since right now I should be planning what I am going to teach my class tomorrow, that's all for now, folks. I really love you a lot if you are still reading this abandoned blog :)

How nightmares become reality

This morning I couldn't find my hairbrush, which is weird, since I am usually so organized and tidy and have everything in its place. (Former roommates, no comments please!) Then I saw it sitting on the table. As I went to grab it, I yanked my hand back with sudden shock as my brain recalculated the situation--comb/scissors/hair/disaster!! Turns out, instead of a green hair comb it was my green-handled pair of scissors. Even first thing in the morning, that's the kind of detail you can't let yourself overlook!

Now, hopefully I am not so spacey that I would actually try to comb my hair with a pair of scissors. But the experience was especially disconcerting because I had just woken up from a strange dream... like most dreams, I guess.... Last night in my dream I got this really great new job (I have no idea what it was, but in my dream, I was thrilled.). Unfortunately the next day I was certain I was going to get fired because somehow I had a really horrible haircut, and I didn't know how it happened. I just remember trying to hide my lopsided bangs from my boss, as we were talking face to face, knowing all along that I was doomed!

I hope that I will ever get fired from a job over my haircut (or wake up someday looking like a preschooler mistook my head for an art project. Or like I confused my hairbrush with a pair of scissors... who does that?), but still, the coincidence of having a hair "nightmare" and then brush with disaster seemed like kind of a freaky coincidence.

Even freakier, I also dreamed this week that I went home to see a friend who was getting married. We were on our way for me to meet the fiance when my friend commented that she had just met his other wife, who was "super nice." "Oh, so he's divorced?" I asked. "No." My friend replied, giving me a puzzled look, completely unphased by the fact that she was about to enter into matrimony with an already married man. In fact, no one in my dream seemed the least bit concerned with the situation. It was like everyone had suddenly gone crazy. I was the only sane one left. I knew I had to take things into my own hands! I met the guy, and he seemed nice enough. And I thought to my(dream)self, "He's a sweet guy. It's a pity I'm going to have to ruin his wedding. I hope my friends don't hate me forever for this!" I had no plan, but I had my certainty--THIS WEDDING MUST BE DESTROYED!

Dreams.... to be honest, I hope most of mine never come true!