Tomorrow is the first day of school...

So yeah. Basically I'm freaking out.

I had a melt down session this afternoon where I was like, "What the HELL am I doing here?! I CAN'T DO THIS!!!!!!!!"

Then I came home and saw the state of New Orleans on the news.
Some things are made so much better with a bit of perspective...

==

Finding life in unexpected places

Preamble:
Whoa. I thought today was Monday until I came here to write and saw that my last post was Sunday, which was not yesterday. Hmm. Time to get a dayplanner. Or more sleep.

I volunteered to go to the choir practice yesterday for today's Spiritual Development mass in Cold Lake. I thought this might be a good idea, since there seems to be an unspoken brownie point system for teachers when it comes to doing things you "don't have to do". [Right.] I got to the church a little late and when I walked in, I saw the poor youth minister, who is a young, hip, energetic guy with funky hair and clothes whaling on his guitar and trying to get a half dozen 45-50ish teacher women to sing the song the way it was written. It was amusing to watch. He was so very polite but unfortunately his "suggestions" were dismissed promptly with replies of, "Yes, we know, we've been singing this for years. Ok, next song. We're tired." Ha ha. Teachers can be the most ornery, unteachable creatures.

It's because we're control freaks.

Anyway, today was the "Spiritual Development" day for our school district. I wasn't quite sure what to expect. I mean, what're they gonna do, make a Catholic outta me in one day? [Holy mother of Mary!!]

The day started out with a prayer: for the new year, the staff, the students, you name it, it was prayed for. Then they introduced Father Penna. He was the main speaker for the day, and he gave a series of "talks" based on different aspects of the faith.

Wow. Maybe it was because I had no expectations, but I received so much out of his insight into life. This is a man who walks with God, but who knows what it is to be a fully human, messy being. His underlying message was this: we make sense of our lives [the things that happen to us every day] by being in our faith community. And I thought this is so true! How many times have I been struggling with difficult seasons in my life, and had a tendency to isolate myself and want to think things through until I make myself ill? I need the perspective and insight of those around me; those who care for me, and love me. They bring sense to my chaos.

Another thing he talked about was spirituality versus religion. He said a lot of people like to say they are spiritual - they have an "inner" thing going on, they are at peace with themselves, or whatever. Maybe they have a thing going on with God. Spirituality is an inward focused thing. Religion is outward - it is actions, rituals, discipline. The problem comes when someone picks one and not the other. Religion should be spirituality worked out with other people: community. To be spiritual but not religious is like saying, "I am a loving person, but I don't love anybody."

Huh.

Another thing he said, I will tuck away for future mulling:

"A husband and wife are to feed God to each other."

What an image. Have you ever seen the cake cutting at a wedding? [Fruit cake is so gross, btw. I'm having ice cream cake at my wedding: 05.26.2007] Usually the bride and groom feed cake to each other. That's the image that I got when he talked about feeding God to each other. I like that.

Another huh.

All in all, I found that I really like what this guy had to say, and I even [gasp!] maybe "developed" spiritually today. You know that feeling when someone speaks something that is true and it resounds in your spirit? It's like a God-Yes. Like God in me says, "Yes! That's it!". I had a few of those moments today. It was like water when you're thirsty.

Anyway. Enough rambling. I have some sleep habits that need developing. :-)

==

Weekend Wind-Up

It's done.

Everything is gone from my house in Edmonton and everything is squeaky clean. I hope. Packing is an endeavour I do not wish to undertake again for a long, long time. Considering this is only [hopefully] a sojourn to Bonnyville, it may come quicker than expected, but we'll see. Anyway. I digress from my point. My point is I think I would have died without Rosy. Rosy and other miscellaneous spatially intelligent gurus. I took so long packing the remnants of my belongings that poor Georgie ended up cleaning 95% of the house. [thank you!]

I apologize for lack of updates this week. It was a two-fold cause. One: I hate writing about really crappy days and Two: I was in Edmonton since Thursday evening.

This weekend was good, minus the house stuff. I got to say goodbye to my friends at church, and even my pastor and his wife showed up by fluke. [They are on a sabbatical leave right now.] It was Cara's birthday Saturday, and we celebrated at Julio's Barrio on Whyte Ave. Deep Fried Ice Cream is fabulous. FABULOUS!

Speaking of "fabulous", I also stopped in at Travel Alberta and chatted with Dean and the gang. [Hi Gang. Good to see you again. Ryan: I don't even know where your office is anymore. Sorry.] I was not disappointed:
Dean was ready with his ever-ready supply of valuable career advice. [This time I avoided the parking meter, and paid the daily rate, thus also avoiding another parking ticket. :-) ]

I know this is a lamo post. It's because too much has happened to write about anything well. I guess that's what I get for going on a mini stress leave. This week promises to be more interesting, however. School starts Thursday. [Play dramatic doom music.]

Pray for me, guys. I need all my marbles back this week. :-)

[Thanks to the Buddha and Lilley for helping me gather them up again this week.]

G'night.

Can I go home now?

I'm having a hard time being here today. I feel so out of place and alone. (It didn't help that it was gray and rainy today, either.)

I knew there would be days when it would be hard to be here, I just didn't think it would be days ending in the letter 'y'. [Buddha's joke. Rolling of eyes is appropriate.]

Somebody help me remember that God has a plan and this is part of it.....

In defense of fat...

There was an all day orientation with the school district today, at which we, The Newbies, were required to sit in board room chairs for many hours on end. These are certainly more comfortable than the hard orange plastic chairs of last week, but they are nearly impossible to maintain good posture in.

During one of my mind-wandering episodes, I noticed in my slouchy-slumped [aka Bartlett] position, that I suddenly have acquired a Roll in the middle.

Ok, maybe it wasn't so suddenly. But it was much more present today. I knew it was coming....my runs have become less and less frequent since I got out of the habit while out East. More good food, cold rainy weather, stress and poutine....they all go hand in hand.
Or mouth and gut.
Or butt.

Suddenly, I feel the need to stick up for J-Lo, and defend her full bottom. It's only another five pounds.....and truth be told, as I pondered it today, I kinda enjoy having a Roll. I was stick thin as a child - bony and hard. I was kinda amused [and maybe pleased?] when I put on a sweater one day and Shelley told me it "showed off my curves". Haha. The Roll is comfortable. And warmer. And dare I say....cooler? Take a look at the Jazz icons: Fats Domino, Jelly Roll Morton. It's cool to have fat.

Okay, okay. Maybe I'm just delusional. Ask me in another 15 pounds, and I probably won't be so tickled about it. That's why today I joined a "gym". I say "gym" because it's one of those circuit training facilities for women only. It's not hardcore or anything, but I do know that after one session of thirty minutes, I have muscles hurting that I never knew I had. PLUS, it made me feel happy, [happy enough to come home and eat half of the contents of the refrigerator...]so I guess it'll be a good habit to have after dealing with teenagers all day.

After all, to borrow from Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde:
Exercise produces endorphins.
Endorphins make you happy.
Happy people don't kill their students!

Sweet Finds

Tonight I was trying to organize the closet in the room I am staying at in my parents' house. This was a great task, as the closet has been a sort of "catch-all" for all things unwanted in the vicinity.

I found a whole box of stuff that I had been looking for for years, namely this big wave crimper type hair appliance I got when I was 13 or 14 [It starts to get scary when you're old enough to see a trend go by for a second round....], and my dreadlocks rasta wig. I SO know what I'm doing for Halloween this year......haha. ["Hey........who's that new band teacher????"]

Most of the stuff in the closet wasn't mine, though. I'm sure I could make a fortune if only I could contact the costume department of any movie studio looking for authentic threads for a 90s prom scene. The bright fushia pouffy dress with puffed sleeves and lace collar, the black and white sequined gown with taffeta skirt. Oh, the list goes on and on....and on. Unfortunately, I cannot lay any claim to these veritable treasures. They belong to my mother.

As she carried armful after armful of the montrosities out of the room, I mentioned that maybe we could take a trip down to the thrift store tomorrow to drop them off. But she managed to hedge my question, proceeded downstairs, and started hanging the relics in another closet. I rolled my eyes as she mumbled something like, "Uh, well, I, er, have to sort through them first......"

Hey, if anyone labels me a packrat, at least I come by it honestly.

Truant Blogger

I'm sorry! I'm sorry! :-)

I finished the workshop in Bungieville yesterday and made my way into E-town again to do some more packing. I stayed at Rosy's new house, and arrived quite late, so I did not have 1) time to post anything, or 2) any access to a computer.

I'm beginning to know that highway like the back of my hand. [Hey. Wait a minute.....that mole wasn't there before......!] This time I didn't tune into any country. I actually just savoured the silence. After two long days of trying to get a grasp of what the good doctor was preaching, and trying to get used to contain my living to a small room with 0.02% of my stuff, it was nice to just drive and blank out. Highway 28 is good for that.

In my interactions with the administration and new teachers at the workshop, I came to realize the value of the past eight months I spent working at Advanis/Travel Alberta. I convocated from university in the spring of 2004 with no intentions of teaching, and somehow ended up in the world of business. The professional atmosphere of the office has made an impression on me. From the day I started working at Travel Alberta, I was picking up the subtleties and nuances of survival in the business world.

It would be hard to tell you of all of the valuable lessons I have learned from Ryan [who was not only my trainer, but a fast friend], and Dean. Ryan's paranoia was especially useful. [haha] Ryan was always, always aware of who was watching, listening or scrutinizing him. This is not to say that Ryan would work any differently when no one was around. But he was aware, to be sure. Ryan had this standard of excellence that inspired me. He gave me the inside scoop on who was who and what was what, and I learned so much from his modus operandi.

Dean would never tire of regaling me with stories of his days at Shaw. He delighted in discussing the future, career goals, and how to get there. He taught me to keep my head up and look forward. He encouraged me and by believing in me, taught me to begin to believe in myself and my professional abilities.

What does the business world have to do with school? Everything. And nothing they teach you in university. There are no classes on "Interacting with The Big Boss", "Keeping Your Career In Mind and Your Mouth Shut: An Exercise on Keeping Personal Opinions Personal" and "These People are Not Your Regular Friends". The thing I noticed over the past couple of days was that there was a marked difference in the behaviour of the teachers who just came from university and those who have already been teaching, or have spent time working elsewhere. I wonder how Group A will do. It's a steep learning curve, that's for sure. For all of us.

There are still small moments where I feel completely overwhelmed. I get these sudden panic attacks where my chest tightens up and I feel like I can't breathe. "What am I doing here? I'm never going to be able to do this! There are so many things to do. I can't. I'm going to fail." Ouch! These episodes are usually quite ephemeral, lasting only a few seconds . I guess I just need to breathe, take my time, and remember all that I've learned in the last while. "I don't have to be perfect! It's okay to mess up."

And if that doesn't work, there's always:

"I am fast and fluid.... I am a cheetah!" :-)

==
PS: Going camping this weekend.....no blogging.

You mean teachers have homework too?

Homework?? I didn't sign up for this. There must be some mistake. I thought I was done with homework. I get to be the teacher now.

I thought that after sitting through an entire day of the rambling of an educational psychologist with an extremely narrow view on classroom discipline and behaviour modification with only two 30 second bathroom breaks and a half-hour lunch in a room that rivals the sub-arctic for frigidness, while sitting on a hard, orange plastic chair with no cushioning whatsoever that I'd be entitled to an evening of leisure.

I guess not. At the end of the gruelling day, at which I inadvertently got the good doctor off track in a heated debate three times with my bad habit of playing the devil's lawyer when I'm bored, he told us he would now assign us our homework for the evening from the workbook. I thought maybe it would be a reading assignment. You know, read this case study so we can discuss it tomorrow.

But no.

Page 14 and 15. Pages 16 - 20. Page 53, 1a and b. Page 54, 4a and b. Pages 55 - 57.

**GROAN**

To quote a former student, the perpetually sullen Ashley:
"THIS IS STUPID. I DON'T GET IT." :-p

On a more positive note, I now have in my possession the key to the school, and the security code. [My principal said, "You'll need this if you're the first one in on Saturdays." Ouch. Is it unrealistic to think that if I work really hard during the weekdays and evenings I might be able to enjoy my Saturday morning?] But I digress....this was supposed to be positive. Yes. On a more positive note, there was a friendly welcomer to my music room this evening. He was small, furry, and ran really, really fast. I was walking down the hallway towards the room with the principal when I spied the critter, and [surprisingly] calmly commented,

"Oh look. There's a mouse."

I now know what makes the principal jump.
[Chris, Susan, Alanna: Where's that remote controlled rat when you need it?!]

Again, I have no good ending here. I think this Bugtussle air is inconducive to writing and I must sleep now.

G'night.

==
PS: I love you all and I miss you and why doesn't anyone email me? :-D

I need help.

Today was the day I had to pack up my house. I think it is definitely one of the most overwhelming, difficult tasks in life.

First, there are the boxes. Assembling boxes is my first point of procrastination. This requires dealing with tape and tape guns. Tape and tape guns make me crazy(er). Fortunately (for me), I managed to sucker an innocent friend into putting together all of the boxes. [Thank you!]

Next, is to decide what to put in said boxes. For me, this consisted of wandering aimlessly around the house for about four hours, lamenting how much stuff I have. A box here, a box there, and 13 boxes later, I realised I hadn't even made a dent in the mounds of stuff. It was somewhat disheartening. How do people do this? Can you believe there are people whose jobs it is to pack?!?! I seriously pity them.

And then there's my problem with spatial intelligence. Spatial intelligence is not my forte...or even my five-tay*.

I have none.

My heroes are the ones who can pack a trunk [or van, in this case] and manage to fit every last thing in, like some kind of demented jigsaw puzzle. Rosy was always really good at this. Having only a small freezer, I'd conveniently "disappear" every first Tuesday of the month when it came time to put away the frozen groceries.

I guess the hardest part of packing is the finding the motivation to do it. Today I wasn't feeling well. I felt like there was something - I couldn't put my finger on it - but like something inside of me was dead or dying. Friend Owl pointed out that this is not uncommon for people to feel when they are moving, especially moving away from "home" and good friends. This, coupled with the fact that I'm going to be in limbo without a home for the next month [my new place will not be ready until 09/15] left me with next to no motivation to end life as I know it on 67th Ave. I am so blessed to have wise friends who know me well, and can decipher my "emotions" when I'm stuck in the proverbial forest. The pachyderm could very well go to clown school.

I'm in Bonnyville now, for the next two days. I am attending my very first event as an employed teacher tomorrow morning. Am I scared? Hell, ya! [Er...I mean..."Heck". Damn those typos.] I'll let you know how it goes.

I have to drive back into the city on Friday to finish the task I started today. To my friends who are in Edmonton on Friday [especially you Groupies :-)]: what about a little "Jace Is Going Away So Let's Have A Packing Party"?? I really need help. I've got most of it done, but I need some help with the kitchen stuff and some other odds and ends. If you're free Friday night, call me. If you don't have my number, ask someone who does. If you don't know anyone who does, you're probably a stalker and I don't want you in my house anyway [ha.]

It's close to midnight now - I got stuck playing an eternal Scrabble game with my family - and I have no good way to end this post, so I will just finish it here.

Oh, and BTW: the Bailey's belongs to Rosy!! [Ha ha ha....]

==
*With apologies to The Buddha

Rest In Piece[s]

There once was a pigeon I hated so bad
But now he is dead, and I feel quite sad.
~

Pigeons are those kind of birds that you don't really notice until they've taken over your roof. For some reason, a couple of months ago, a whole flock [flock?] of them decided they should live on the roof of my house, garage, shed, and pretty much everywhere else in between. They're SO FREAKIN' ANNOYING!! You can hear them walking on the roof, the walls have been er- "whitewashed", and they never stop that grating "cooing" noise. It is true, I used to have a soft spot for the little buggers, having been raised with Mary Poppins' bag lady's indoctrination, but I have grown to regard them with the highest degree of enmity. Almost.

Today, I was out doing errands and realized I had forgotten some things at home. So I was driving down the street in front of my house when I spied one of the foul birds in the middle of the road. I admit, because of my animosity towards their coup of my roof, I sped up a little, just to scare it. Usually, they regard you with contempt as though they own the road, too, and only fly off at the last possible second.

Well, this one didn't fly.

As I reached "the point of no return", I was so in shock and terror that I was going to hit the thing, but when I looked in my rear view mirror, he was still puttering around the road. I had driven right over him, but he didn't seem unnerved at all. I swerved over to the side of the road, parked the car, jumped out and yelled at him. [Yeah, in the middle of the street. The neighbours already know I'm weird.]

"What're ya trying to do?!?! Freakin' KILL YOURSELF?!"

He just looked at me, cocked his head and walked a few steps towards me. It was then that I noticed he was limping. I softened a bit.

"Well, just get off of the road, ok?"

I ran inside the house to grab the items I had forgotten, which took about 45 seconds, and when I came back...

...when I came back, he was still in the middle of the road. And a little to the side of the road. And some down the road. One of his wings was near my car.

And I just stood there staring, and I actually started crying. Stupid bird! To make matters worse, his head was turned towards me, and his eyes were still open, and he looked really sad.

Um, so this is my homage to a pigeon I never knew. You were vexing in life, to be sure, but I never would have wished you the horrible death you had to suffer.

==

Redneck Girl

So I was driving back from Bugtussle in the parents' '93 Aerostar by myself this afternoon when I started to get bored. I thought maybe I'd turn on the radio to help keep me awake. The problem is, the only stations you can pick up out there are country stations. Having heard that the '93 Aerostar was built on a truck chassis, I figured this would be appropriate music (and I use the term "music" rather lightly) for the rough, bumpy summer drive through the prairies.

I lasted two songs.

The first one was a lonely cowboy crooning about how he wanted himself a "redneck girl". Now I know I grew up in Bonnyville, but somehow I have come to rebel vehemently against the culture of the town. I hate trucks, country music, Wranglers and cowboy boots. I don't like to cruise in Daddy's pickup truck, and I don't have my name on the back of my belt. Oh Lord, save me from them redneck boys....

The second song actually made me laugh. It was classic country: the guy lost his wife, his kids, and the life he used to live. Gone was his pride, his pool, his boat, his tools, his dreams, his dog, and his cat. Sad, man! SAAAAD!

By this time, I had reached Ashmont, the point where you can start to pick up FM stations from the city, albeit full of fuzz. I didn't care. Anything was better than listening to steel guitar competing in a whining contest with a guy full of whiskey and beeerrrr. The first station that came up was 96.3 and was some kinda R&B/Techno/Club stuff. Then came 92.5. Same thing. I tried a few more, and they were all so........empty. Argh! Where has all the good stuff gone? Thinking I'd switch to my old trusty standby of CBC Radio 2 90.9 FM [all classical], I was surprised to hear the scratching of records. Yes. Record scratching on CBC. Who knew?! Apparently, they had a music documentary on "Turntablists" - those people who take samples of records and create completely new music by manipulating the record on the turntable. Normally, this isn't really my thing, but to have it explained and hear the different sounds that could be acquired and made into "music" was really quite fascinating. These people differ from club DJs in that they use these turntables quite like an instrument unto itself. Apparently, it takes countless hours to master the techniques, and incredible coordination to boot.

I was thoroughly impressed.

I think the thing I really liked about it was that it was a completely "new" sound. Sometimes I get so sick of the same old "sound". Anyone know what I mean? I was thinking about it this morning as I was free-playing on the piano for a good hour. How can I challenge myself to keep up as a musician? What do I need to listen to, expose myself to, to start to incorporate freshness in my stuck-in-Sarah-McLaughlan-ish style? What is new and cutting edge these days? (Eric??)[Don't send me to a Radford concert though - there are some things I can't handle yet...] If you guys have any suggestions, I'm open...

Maybe I'll start honing my skills by asking my dad if I can borrow that prized antique turntable of his.....and there's always mom's southern gospel LP collection to start scratching the surface.....hahaha!

[Feel free to roll eyes here......]

==
PS: Jasper was magnificent as always. Email me if you want the link to my pictures.

PPS: Lilley - sorry for being owly. :-)

Stuck in Bugtussle

Good morning!

Just a note to inform Regular Readers everywhere that postings should resume this evening once I am back in E-town. I took an unexpected detour from Jasper to Bungieville for the weekend. Can't wait to go home and sleep in my own bed.... :-)

Adieu, until later...

No lions or tigers, but maybe some bears...

Well, I'm off to Jasper this morning for a Family Vacation. Ooooh!

This means, of course, that I shall be unplugged for the next few days. So, just to appease the masses of Regular Readers everywhere, I have posted some writings I have done over the past few years. You can find them in the archives.

[Pace yourselves, though - I'm gone for four days! :-)]

In the meantime, stay fit and have fun!

Cheeky Canuck

Maybe it was the spice.

Whatever it was, it made me a lot more cheeky than usual tonight.

My parents called this afternoon, and said they had arrived in town with my aunt and uncle who are visiting from Trinidad. They are spending the night in E-town before we all head out to Jasper tomorrow. Anyhow, they were hoping I would give them a tour of West Edmonton Mall.

"Noooooo!" I groaned. I hate that mall. It's so loud, and big, and crowded, especially in the summer time. It's a somniferous,* energy-sucking vortex.

[Not to mention that: me being broke at the moment + terrific end of season sales = cruel and unusual punishment.]

"Okay, okay," my mom says, "We'll just get a map. But can you meet us there later?"

"I guess so," I grumbled. [Hey, I had a hard day. I completely lost my composure and started bawling when I was leaving the office after cleaning out my desk today and saying my final goodbyes to everyone.]

So I head to the mall, battling the Whitemud at the tail end of rush hour. I arrived, parked, fastened my nifty new steering wheel lock into place, and walked into the mall. I called my mom's cell to see where they were at, but she didn't answer.....so I started browsing in Thrifty's.

I always enjoy reading the t-shirts in Thrifty's because they are so clever and punny. Nevermind that most of them have less than chaste-minded messages. Sometimes they just make me laugh. Especially their current line of cheeky Canadian t-shirts. Alas, I couldn't resist: they were funny AND they were on sale. Soooooo, twenty dollars later, I walked out with two new additions for my closet. The first one reads: "All the best girls are Canadian". [how true!] The front of the second one says "Oh Canada!". The back says: Sexy Since '67. Ha ha. [My mom: "You weren't even born in '67!" Me: "Uhhhh, that would be 1867...Canada...it's sexy, cool, ya know?" Mom: shakes heads, rolls eyes. Dad gets look of concern.] I wanted to get the one at American Eagle that really took the cake. Emblazoned on the front in rather large letters it read: You can't get this in the States. ;-) It's about time we get some patriotism in this country of ours!

Anyway, I finally got ahold of my parents, and they said we were meeting my other aunt and uncle from Edmonton at Earl's on Bourbon Street. It was a lovely dinner for a party of eight, and we were delighted to find out they have quite a variety of international cuisine. My dad had the Thai green curry, my mom had some kind of kung pow chicken, and I had (correct me if I'm wrong, Rosy) Jeera chicken curry. No one was bored with their food, that's for sure.

So the waiter, who was probably mid-twentyish came to give us the bill, and was standing at the far end of the table from me, chatting with my family, and someone mentioned that the one aunt and uncle were from Trinidad.

He says, "Trinidad? I have to add that on my list of places to visit."

And MY UNCLE OPENS HIS PIEHOLE, POINTS TO ME, AND SAYS:

"And she wants to go with you!"

To which the waiter replies:

"Sweet! When are you free?"

OH, THE NERVE!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am rather proud of myself, however, for without skipping a beat [and without blushing], I said in quite a serious tone of voice and a smirk on my face:

"I'm never free. It'll cost you. But it can be arranged. How much money do you have?"

I don't think I've ever seen my dad look more shocked and horrified in my life. HAHAHAHA. And I can't believe those words came out of my mouth!

It must have been the curry.

Whaddaya think?

==
*Kroeker: it's on. You're no match for my nerdiness.

Melancholic Musings

It's been an interesting weekend. I feel like I've been in a whirlwind for the past month, and tonight it's finally stopped for a few hours.

It was my last day at Travel Alberta on Friday. I can't believe eight months passed by so quickly. In one way, it seemed like a long time - I grew to love my job and working with my colleagues so much. I learned some incredible life lessons that I will never forget; some of those lessons will be applied to career, while some of them have left me a different and better person, and have touched my very spirit.

Friday was hard. Adeline, Ann-Marie, Sirina and Ryan gave me cards with words that blew me away and made me cry. Eric presented me with an office card and Malteasers. If any of you guys are reading this, I am so, so blessed to have met you and have shared in your lives this past little while.

Friday was also the day Rosy moved out. I came home from work, and all of her stuff was gone. Kind of a double whammy. I spent Friday evening and Saturday in Bugtussle, and drove back in for Curtis' wedding reception. I guess it wasn't until tonight that things really started to sink in. There's definitely a chapter of my life that's ending.

Of course, when one chapter ends, it means another one begins. But right now, I feel like I'm in no man's land, and I'm feeling a little lost. To my friends who let me lean on them a bit tonight: thanks. Thanks for just being there and not feeling like you have to dole out cliches. I know new things are coming. Thanks for letting me grieve the end of this season. I will take this time to pause and look back before I turn around and keep running.

//

I was feeling a bit ill today in church, so I was just sitting down during the worship time, and I closed my eyes. During that time, I came to a small realization: I am moving forward. For a long time, I've felt like I've been on a treadmill, just running the same path over and over and over again, but not going anywhere. Since I finished university, I've lacked a clear goal or vision, and I think that's enough to make anyone feel like they're dying.

About a year and a half ago, I was asked to answer the question:

What are some of your personal goals in life?

I wrote:

"Teach, worship, impact lives, run a marathon, learn to play the guitar, djembe and drum kit, perfect my saran wrapping techniques, and write more songs.

I'd also like to do more travelling, start being more disciplined about my writing, and learn to sew."

At the time, I knew these were things I wanted to do, but they were kind of "far-off" goals; I didn't have a plan on how I was going to accomplish them. This morning I realized how the circumstances in my life are lining up, and I am on my way to achieving these goals - in a way I would never have dreamed.

If you would have asked me at that time if I would ever move back to Bonnyville, I would have laughed in your face. But here I am, moving there to teach. Not only that, but I know it's time for me to step back into worship; something I know the church in Bonnyville is hoping I will do. I know it will be a challenge, but I think I am finally learning the lesson that if God wants you to do something, he gives you the strength to do it, and the results are not because of what I do, but because of my obedience to Him.

I know being a teacher is going to pull on me and stretch me in many ways - intellectually, I'm up for the challenge. It's the emotional aspect that scares me sometimes. I thank God for the inner healing He has done in my life over the past six months that will allow me to touch these students in a place that comes from a healthy freedom. I know I still have things that need to be dealt with, but to have been healed in some of the foundational aspects of my life has taught me to walk less in fear and more in grace, and I believe that in itself will impact lives.

Some of you guys know the funny story of how I will be teaching beginning guitar classes. To those of you who don't know: I don't play guitar at all. I have never really picked up a guitar for more than five minutes; I always lacked the discipline because my finger tips would start hurting and I'd just give up. So this is kind of a funny force-feed way of learning. The principal stressed that this will be very-beginning-no-experience-whatsoever students, and all I have to do is teach out of the method book. Very well, but I guess it means I have to stay ahead by teaching myself first! Ha ha. I always wanted to learn, and now I get to. Or have to? :-)

I've always had the travel bug. I love seeing new places and being able to visit friends and family who live further away. Mostly, my trips have been limited to Ontario / New York, but because of this new job, I'll not only have more money to go places, but I'll have the time as well, as the holidays are pretty decent. :-)

Finally, being away from all of you guys has motivated me to start this blog, and honestly, it feels good to write a little more frequently. Since I finished school, my writing was pretty much limited to random emails, but this gives me a reason to write in a somewhat structured fashion. [Bartlett: I know it's not polished. Shall I hire you as my editor? :-)] I love it when you guys leave comments on my writing; it lets me know someone is reading my musings, and validates the effort.

The marathon, drums, songwriting, and sewing are going to come someday, too. It'll be interesting to see that process. But for now, I guess I'll just watch the unfolding of these goals and keep running down this path.

And who knows? Maybe I'll even find a new partner in crime to help me perfect my saran wrapping techniques!

Random Ramblings

Tonight I got home from work, dead tired from being up at 5:30 am, and decided to put on a little relaxation tunage. [That would be tunes as in music, lest it be confused with some sort of fish eye mask or something.] I had picked up a newer Dave Brubeck Quartet recording from the library the other day, and knew it would be perfect. There's something just light and pick-me-upish about Brubeck's stylings that melts my tension like pink bubble gum on a Toronto sidewalk in July. But less sticky.

Anyway. I put the CD on, and was being floated away by the intro piano solo when Rosy walks into the kitchen and says,

"Hey, is that you?"

HA HA HA HA HA..... My eyes bugged out as I protested, shocked and amused.

"NOOOO! That's Dave Brubeck!!!"

"Who grew back?"

[Again, insert canned laughter.]

I'm honored and flattered that she would think my attempts at jazz could be compared to this master. Lord only knows she has to endure me plunking out chord progressions and blues scales at the oddest hours. [My piano is in the room directly behind her bedroom.] So thanks, Rosy!

In other news, I've spent half of my life savings getting new brakes on my car. Okay, it wasn't my life savings, but maybe eight months' savings. And that was only the FRONT brakes! It was practically a whole paycheque for both brakes. So much for being parsimonious.* I asked around at the office to see if the guys thought I was being ripped off, but I don't think Eric or Curtis really knows [know?] too much about things mechanical. Eric can tell you about who's "last week's" music wash-up, and Curtis can tell you the price of MAC lipglass, but I seriously doubt their knowledge on normal prices for brake service. But they're both good BSers anyhow. High Fives for trying, guys. Any advice, Dale?

At any rate, I'm becoming an expert bus rider. I have it timed down to the last seconds of when I can leave my house in the morning to have enough time to walk [sometimes sprint] to the bus stop in time to catch either the 52 or the 9. And if the bus driver doesn't decide to stop for a coffee on Whyte, I have enough time to get myself a "regular-sized-single-shot-skim-milk-caramel-correto-no-whip-to-go-please" at the Churchill Second Cup before going in to the office. I was apologizing to the Barista one day for my Picky Drink, and I laughed and said,

"I guess that's what happens when you used to work at a Second Cup: you become one of those customers."

And the Barista says, with a smirk on his face,

"Yeah, essentially, you've become a b***h."

[GASP!]

Ouch.

Anyway. Enough rambling for the evening, I have things to do, places to go, people to avoid. Haaa....yeah.

G'night.

==
*Today's word of the day. Just had to slip it in somewhere. :-)

Provocation

Blame it on Kroeker.

I had full intentions of sitting down to write last night, but I saw Kroeker on MSN and we haven't chatted for a few months...and many gut-wrenching laughs and cheesy, eye-rolling puns later, I was too tired to write anything. So I'm shifting the blame. :-)

I think I've decided that I'm really only funny when provoked. And by provoked, I mean someone engaging me in the type of banter that activates the humour switch. I love talking with these people, because it brings out this really weird, twisted, brainy geek humour in me that causes blank stares from the general masses.

It's rare to find these people, but to those of you out there (Kroeker, Lilley, Buddha, Gertrude (Ethel?), Mike S, et al), and whomever thinks the Lost Access Card Saga should be sung by Alanis Morrisette, I thank you! You guys are The Wind Beneath My Wings!

[breathe.]

Sometimes I forget to breathe.

Natasha knows this. After living with me for many years, she learned to practically read me like whatever book she'd be holding in her hands at the time. Without even looking up, she'd simply say, "Breathe."

I'd glance up from whatever I was doing, sigh deeply, and say thanks.

I have a zillion and one things on my plate right now, with my job ending this week, office BBQ last night (rained out!), grocery shopping, supper for my family tonight, bringing my car into the shop to get the brakes fixed, etc, etc, etc....it all adds up.

At one point today in my frenzy, I stopped, and I remembered: breathe. I closed my eyes and did just that. It was only for about 8 seconds, but it helped. And it was then that God nudged me.

"Hello," he said.

"Hi." I kinda smiled. I like him.

That was it. It was like one of those knowing glances across a crowded room. An acknowledged "I know you and I like you and I don't even have to say anything and you'll know what I mean" kind of moment.

I didn't feel guilty that I hadn't spent a "power hour" with him in the morning. It was great. He understands that I was flustered today, and knows I still love him anyway. He understands! I kinda feel like Tom Cruise, gushing, babbling, incoherently.

"I LOVE HIM! HE IS MAGNIFICENT! AMAZING! I LOVE THIS GOD!!!"
[I think I'll spare my couches the abuse, though.]

So that's it tonight. Simple, really.

[breathe.]

psalm 23.

I am a cheetah!

I was reading an interesting article today on "positive self-talk". I remember the first time I heard the term "self-talk". It was last year at one of my Running Room clinic sessions. I was training for the Centennial Half Marathon, and we had a guest speaker one night for our classroom portion of the clinic. He was a sports psychologist. He was a great speaker, and really easy to listen to, partly due to his great British accent.

I'm not sure what it is about psych stuff that I find funny. Maybe it's not even that I find it "funny", maybe it just makes me uncomfortable because I grew up in an environment where we didn't really talk about how we were "feeling" or why. At any rate, the sports psychologist with the British accent was talking about the power of positive self-talk.

Basically, "self-talk" is the running commentary in one's head. [Ooh. That pun was so not intended! But I digress...] In keeping with the running example, I could be running along a trail, and think to myself (almost without even realizing it!), "I'm so tired, this is a hard run, my shin is really bothering me, etc..." This would be negative self-talk. The flip side would be "Wow, I'm almost finished, I can't believe how beautiful it is out here, only two more kilometers until I get my lungs back, etc...."

Anyway, it was one week before our event and after giving a lecture/pep talk, the sports psychologist said he'd like to lead us in an exercise, and asked us all to close our eyes and take a deep breath.

Now you have to picture this: the class is taking place right in the middle of a busy Running Room store. There are people registering for events, trying on jackets, and getting their feet analyzed by staff all over the place. I felt a little goofy, but the rest of the class seemed to go right along, so I closed my eyes and breathed. Ummmmmmm...........

Then he started his British monologue:

"You are running through the forest....

You are in good form...

Your arms are pumping...

Your legs are strong...

You are fahhhst and fluid. You are a cheetah!"

At that point I lost it, and laughed out loud. Really loud.

Brit Shrink didn't appreciate my mirth. My colleagues at Second Cup did after that, though. Whenever it would get really busy in the mornings, and I was the Barista, I would close my eyes and recite out loud [really bad fake British accent included]:

"I am fast and fluid. I AM A CHEETAH!"

My co-workers and I would crack up. Customers just thought I was cracked up (in a different way.) Ahh, those days were great. But I digress.

The article I read today reminded me of that experience, and the actual insight I did gain out of it. I think "self-talk" is a very valid concept; Biblical, even. I know it is my tendency to let my mind wander and not really monitor where my thoughts or self-talk is going. And then I wonder why I tend to have a negative outlook a lot of times.

This part of the article intrigued me:

Pessimists and optimists have predictable responses, Boothman explained. The pessimist will look outside, see the rain and think: "Now my day is ruined." The optimist will think: "Hey, free car wash."

Boothman said that by the time we're adolescents, we've established those patterns in our thinking. But not to worry. It's actually very simple to change the pattern.

It's all about how we make sense of our experiences. The cycle that Boothman named "Making Sense" starts with our experiences, and leads through your thoughts, actions, habits and personality all the way to your destiny, which Boothman said, is determined by our the first step in the cycle: our words.

MAKING SENSE

Experiences >> Words >> Thoughts >> Ideas >> Actions >> Habits >> Personality >> Destiny

Instead of repeating your mistakes, Boothman said, try being more flexible and changing your self-talk. Flexibility is an important tool in changing your negative patterns. "As we grow up, we get very inflexible," he said. We have to be willing to change our patterns.

Boothman's theories are based around neuro-linguistic therapy, which is the way we use language to program our neurology. By breaking down the words we use in interpreting our experiences, we can change them.

Changing the words you use, re-making your self-talk, Boothman said, will change your destiny.

===

[Argh. I can't figure out how to put my margin back to normal after using the "block quote feature"...]

I have to say, I agree with a lot of what Boothman says in the article. However, I wonder if his cycle is a little mixed up? I would put "words" after "thoughts" and "ideas", but maybe that's just because I tend to think a lot before I say things.

At any rate, it's something worth considering.

===

"My mouth will speak wisdom, And the meditation of my heart will be understanding."

Psalm 49:3