I’ve been really navel-gazy lately, so I’m just going to talk about fun stuff today.

1. I’ve spent all morning looking at this J.K. Rowling chat transcript (and other HP stuff). I’m allowing myself to indulge in such because it’s my last day of freedom before inservice and *gulp* school beginning. Anyway, I’m asking myself the same thing I’m sure a lot of adults have been asking themselves in the past week or so–why am I so obsessed with this wizard kid and what happens to him and his friends?

The answer merits its own really long blog posting, but for me…I’ve followed the story since I was still an undergraduate. That means it’s been one of the most stable things in my life for a good 7 years or so! Besides that, besides being an extremely clever, beautiful, and charming fantasy, it’s also at its heart a tale of nothing that any of us haven’t been through ourselves: alienation from family or peers, disillusionment with people and institutions you’re supposed to trust the most, the feeling that no one else in the universe understands, first love, broken hearts…just plain growing up. We all have our Voldemorts and his minions that we must figure out how to conquer.

2. New White Stripes video! Only I can’t get it to play on my puter. Let me know how it looks. I LOVE this song. Actually, there isn’t a song on Icky Thump I don’t like. My friend Chase totally called that “You Don’t Know What Love Is” would be their next single, and I agree–it’s totally rock and roll, but definitely more radio-friendly than, say, “Rag and Bone.” I must say “R and B” is one of my favorites, though, especially the part when Jack says, “Aw, Meg, don’t be rood.”

Another obsession question: why am I so obsessed with this pasty, stringy-haired, just plain weird guy? Had I gone to high school with him, I must admit I’d probably have avoided him as much as possible. As is, though…well, let’s just say it’s good he never came into my Starbucks when I was in Nashville. I always hoped to run into him, but it’s best I didn’t, I think.

3. I’ve been watching lots of movies since I moved. There’s a Hastings here in town where I can rent, and of course I Netflix. Yesterday was The Painted Veil and The Wicker Man. The PV was really pretty, though sort of unsatisfying ultimately. But, it had Ed Norton and lots of adorable Asian children, so I was good.

The Wicker Man, though? Ugh. My own fault. I’d heard it was confusing and kind of stupid, but I had no idea just how utterly insipid it could be. Word on the street is that the original is worth the time, but now I already know the “twist” ending (which could be spotted a mile away in the remake), so I’m not sure I’ll bother.

Last week I watched The Zodiac. Not scary like I’d hoped, but still a good character study. Plus, I’m in love with both Mark Ruffalo and Jake Gyllenhaal, so it was nice to see them together.

I also watched Freedom Writers in an attempt to pump myself up for this teaching thing. It was a nice, inspiring flick, but I ended up feeling rather overwhelmed–I mean, they got Miep Gies to come to their class…I’ll be feeling pretty inspirational if I can get the local librarian to come tell them how to check out a book.

Up today is Marie Antoinette (I dig Sofia Coppola, and I like Kirsten Dunst a lot more than once I did), and if I can get enough done around the apartment to feel like I’ve merited it, I might go see The Simpsons Movie at the local cinema.

4. Ingmar Bergman died. I must admit I’ve only seen one of his movies, so just mentioning him on here is most likely a subconscious need to let you all know how cultured I am. I saw The Seventh Seal at the Belcourt a few months ago, though, and walked out profoundly moved. It was much more provocative and relevant that I could have imagined going in, and I came away with a great respect for the filmmaker.

This makes me want to rent something intelligent. Any suggestions?

5. Ripley tomatoes are, indeed, worthy of the hype.

Happy Tuesday, all!

Nice line, Johnny M. (Yes, I listen to John Mayer AND Ryan Adams and still respect myself in the morning. Deal.)

It was one I needed to hear today. For I’ve been pretty frightened–along with being alternatingly elated–lately.

Fear Scenario #1:

Today, I drove to my school to see what kind of orientation/information I could derive, only to find things still in a bit of upheaval. They’re re-flooring, remodeling, etc., so they just dug the books out of storage today.

I’d envisioned myself walking in and being shown my classroom (which I’ve seen once, but it was emptied of chairs and furniture), handed my teacher’s guides and curricula criteria, and just overall encouraged. I was none of the above, but one fellow teacher did rush down the hall with a bite of her lunch in her mouth just long enough to get my my students’ books. At least I have a little something to go on.

Fear Scenario #2:

Then I came home and read this. For some reason, I reacted more emotionally to it than I would have thought. I guess I’m having my own version of it and have been for the past couple of years. Ms. Coble has a few years on me, but much of the sadness she spoke of upon having so many friends divorcing is something I can empathize with. None of my closest friends have been through a divorce, and Lord willing, they won’t. I’ve seen several of them, though, go through some pretty serious problems, and I never know how to react. I’ve still never managed a long-term relationship, so how in the world can I begin to understand, much less help?

I have heard through the grapevine of more than one couple I knew back in college divorcing. More sad than that, though, I have heard of many of them who are already tired of each other–already resentful toward each other–and who are just cohabitating for the sake of children, reputation, or maybe financial concerns.

For some of them, it was no surprise at all. We were very young, and in a very high-pressure situation only those who went to a private and/or Southern and/or religious college can understand. Some, though–it was just never a consideration that they might not “make it.”

Maybe that’s why they didn’t.

Fear Scenario #3:

Yesterday was one of the best Sundays I’ve had in years. After a great time last night, though, I came home to find out–through convoluted means–that friends from whom I thought I was just growing distant have basically dropped me from existence in their lives. It’s a long, tragic tale as to why, and I won’t go into it here. It’s just that a matter of months ago one of them was freely using words such as “always” and “dear” and “love” in describing me and our friendship.

***

My scenarios may seem pretty unrelated, but they hit at the very roots of my biggest fears in life: that I’ll be unprepared and incompetent at what I’m devoting my life to; that people–even the ones who make the sincerest claims–can never truly be trusted; that love could fail after all.

It’s terrifying.

But…maybe a little more fear–the right kind–could circumvent unhappy endings in scenarios such as the above. Yeah, I’m frightened of the beginning of a new job that technically I’ve never done before…but I can use that to motivate me to get that much more ahead of the game. The kids I knew in college who were so horrified at the idea of not being married by the time they graduated…maybe they should have been more scared of being divorced by the time they were thirty.

I don’t know. I guess there are no clean breaks–no formulas–no guarantees. I tend to live in worry myself, so it’s not like I’m a shining example of what I’m attempting to learn here. I also tend to think everything’s not right with the world until I’m not scared anymore. But, maybe I really have misunderstood fear; maybe certain kinds of fear are actually just signs of being alive–of really wanting to live life well. I truly do want to. I guess it’s a matter of understanding fear as a friend.

Yeesh. I wasn’t expecting to philosophize all afternoon because of a John Mayer song.

Well, at least not the language (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). It was a good dream, I must admit, and it was hard not to think of it during church this morning. I’ll confess something: I am terrible at paying attention in church (or anywhere else). Completely letting go of my own thoughts (even if it’s to be filled with infinitely better ones) feels very vulnerable to me, and I’m not even sure I can do it anymore.

So, when I went to church this morning, I was expecting kind of the same old routine. Yeah, as always, I did have a hard time fully focusing, but otherwise, I had a lovely Sunday morning. This congregation–which, Kelli, I was wrong about only having 200 people, as it actually has about 500, eek!–is obviously a very vibrant one. I was greeted by several people, and before I could even hit the auditorium, I had already been asked to lunch. The minister himself came to my seat, found out a bit about me, then escorted me to a Sunday school class. He later gave me his cell number so that I could call him if I needed anything. I’ve rarely felt so welcomed the first time I’ve walked into a church building.

It’s no secret to those who know me well that I am prone to discouragement in many facets of life, and that religion has been one of the major facets. While I don’t feel the need to subject everyone I know to every struggle I have, I also feel no need to hide the fact that I do struggle. I think it goes back to what I wrote about a few weeks ago–that I often crave more and that I’m often dissatisfied. Religion-wise, that’s why I’ve often wanted to get out of the Bible Belt, and I still plan to live other places before I die.

This morning, though, I felt very encouraged by brothers and sisters I didn’t even know. I ended up invited to lunch twice before I left and invited back several times. People took the time to learn my name and learn about me. The singing was very enthusiastic, and members seemed to actually be friends with each other. Of course I’ll spend time making sure I’m in agreement with the congregation doctrinally, but I already know there is love here. For my money, that’s what I’m really looking for.

…I spoke French in my dreams. You’d think I knew French. I have a survey knowledge left over from three years in high school, but I’m pretty fluent in my dreams.

Last night’s was especially hairy. I was at the Spaghetti Factory with my family, only it was more like the Schermerhorn because there was a grand symphony about to be performed. I excused myself to the bathroom, but to get to the bathroom I had to go down this vertical tunnel of carpeted steps.

Once I got down (after letting people go by several times because I was terrified of heights and going very slowly), there were men in the bathroom, obviously up to no good and speaking Spanish. I spoke French back and they laughed at me, then started attacking the next woman in line. I ran for help, but was told by the maitre d’ that there was nothing he could do.

Then my friend Andrea married my friend Jeremy. Though they don’t know each other in real life. The end.

All alone. With their cats.

So, today I found out what “inservice” is. I’ve never known, though I’ve heard teachers talk about it all my life. At the time I was hearing teachers at church use the word, it was always in the context of “yeah, school starts next week, but we start inservice tomorrow.” I would always imagine my teachers camping out in the school for the days preceding the beginning of the school year. They were wearing chains and standing in lines. I don’t know what for–the impression that word left on my brain ended there, as I had more self-serving thoughts that edged it out, such as, “crap, I start school next week!”

Anyway, I’d been rather intimidated before walking in, but there were many things there to put me at ease: the obligatory coffee and donut holes; a school board official who reminded me of a non-evil Professor Umbridge; new coaches with guts spilling over their belts; and a freezing library to meet in. For school libraries must always be just 6 or so degrees below the coolest end of the comfort spectrum. Very familiar sensations for a kid who grew up a few counties over (minus the Umbridge thing).

We were given handouts regarding dress code, sexual harassment (note to former Sbux coworkers–we wouldn’t last a DAY in the educational world if we were all in it together), legal issues, classroom strategies, benefits, etc. It was during this part of the briefing–approximately 10am–that I got that oogly feeling again. Yup, for better or worse, I really am a teacher…I started getting all excited about mapping out the first few days of class and how to best implant the most important concepts early on. I started mentally planning get-to-know-you activities and thinking of things I could say to put my students at ease.

Yeah, I really did.

Then…after lunch…the iBooks came out! Wow! I think I’ve mentioned before that I’d been planning on buying a Mac laptop last year until I figured out I wasn’t getting a real job anytime soon and didn’t need another payment. Well, I learned that hiring on with this system had the perk of a laptop for each teacher and put the decision off again. Then, I learned the laptop I was getting was a Mac…that was one major confirmation for me that I’d made the right choice.

Anyway, I’ve never had a laptop or a Mac before, but I think I’m really going to enjoy it. From what I can tell, the programs seamlessly integrate, and this one comes loaded with all kinds of educational resources that will really be helpful, especially in my first year.

So…I think I can teach high school.

I’ve done it before and then taken down the post the morning after. I refuse to do that with last night’s, but I still have that feeling…that one I always got on those rare occasions I was invited to a slumber party as a kid and we all stayed up late talking about the boys we liked, then woke up and looked at each other in terror.

Last night, post-blogging, I went to sleep and spoke a lot of French in my dreams. I awoke with a headache.

I’m reading Teacher Man by Frank McCourt. It’s my first book of his, and it’s charming and very relevant to what I’m about to be doing. I got to the part last night about his first parent-teacher conferences, and suddenly realized that I’m going to have to do the same thing…deal with parents! And their expectations and their assumptions and their judgments! Ack.

I’m thinking a lot lately about my standards and how I have precious few of them anymore and how I’d like to lay the law down for myself again. Maybe you’ll get to hear about that.

Tomorrow, I do new teacher inservice. I don’t know what to wear, and I don’t know whether to bring a notebook and a pen or if that will look hopelessly old-school. A lady at church last night told me I looked like I should be in high school instead of teaching it. Great. I’m excited, though, about getting a little more orientation toward what I’m actually going to be doing. I hope they never discover just how freaked out I am about this whole thing.

To borrow the term from Emily and set it to the tune of an old Tom Petty song.

So I didn’t blog for several days, and now all these thoughts–all this…lifey-type stuff–are bottlenecking in my brain.

I’m thinking about my parents. I’ve never known two more selfless people in my life. And I’m not just aping someone’s 50th-anniversary-card sentiments, either. In the past year, they have: fully supported my leaving my grown-up, stable, respectable job; accepted me into their home because I didn’t have a job back-up plan; put up with my angst and resentment toward everyone and everything–including them, stupidly–because of said lack of back-up plan; supported me while I moved out for a while; accepted me back when moving out didn’t work out; and put their lives on hold to help me start my new one.

I’m thinking about how broken their hearts would be if they knew about things I’ve said and done, all in the name of “being myself” or “learning” or “experimenting” or whatever label I gave it. I’m thinking about how they would see past their broken hearts and love me anyway, and how that intensifies my shame ad infinitum.

I’m thinking about how terrified thinking about all this makes me. I really want a husband and babies someday…I’m just not sure I’m ready to be selfless like my parents are. I think I have the capacity for that kind of love, but the thought of feeling it causes my brain to short-circuit.

I’m thinking about my little sister. I drove past a catfish place after church tonight and my first thought was of her. She loves catfish. I’m thinking about how, besides college, both of our first experiences on our own were in a two-bedroom apartment in Florence, Alabama. I’m thinking about how we wasted a lot of that time fighting and being stupid post-adolescent girls. I’m thinking I’d give anything to hang out with her right now. I don’t know when that can happen, as she’s hours away being a youth minister’s wife and being the Christian leader I’m not sure I’ll ever be. I’m thinking, again, about how weird it is that she somehow grew up and became the older-sister figure to me.

I’m thinking about boys and how I never had feelings for anyone in Nashville. There were the standard crushes on the cute ones I worked with or served coffee to. There was, as always, an undying obsession with Ryan Adams. There was a night I would have handed my car keys, soul, whatever to Ray LaMontagne had he demanded it. Well, I guess it’s all about semantics–there weren’t feelings for anyone in Nashville, but there were feelings in Nashville for someone. Some things have to remain unblogged, though, even if it is 3am.

I’m thinking about how I really want to start over and make good on this life I’ve been given.

I’m thinking I should have bought more and better groceries in order to avoid eating half a carton of Whoppers yesterday. I’m thinking I’m craving barbecue. I’m thinking I’m gonna go to West Memphis to find my joy.

I’m thinking about how excited I am for my friend who texted me at midnight saying she was at Ben Folds’s house. I’m thinking I wished she’d waited until morning, though. And that I miss seeing him around.

I’m thinking I should sleep.

Then Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, “Do not think to yourself that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews.
“For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
Esther 4:13-14

I love that story.

Tonight I went to church in my new town for the first time. They’re already keeping on my toes around here. If you aren’t familiar with the church of Christ (or “C of C,” as it’s known in Bible Belt circles, among plenty of other ready-made labels), we tend to have pretty consistent meeting times: 9am and 6pm on Sunday, and 7pm on Wednesday. These, of course, are not be decree of God or anything, it’s just how it seems to work out with most congregations.

I assumed this congregation would be no different, so when I slipped into the auditorium class at 6:55, I figured I was golden. Only–they were pretty deep into their discussion, and a few minutes later, the class bell rang. Hrmm. We’ll see how long I can handle these…more unorthodox brethren.

But all of that is beside the point. The lesson during the concluding devotional reminded me of the above account of Esther. The speaker talked about how each of us is where we are for a reason. As I’ve said before, I’m not into signs and portents and trying to read God’s mind. However…it seemed very fitting that this was the very first lesson I heard in my new life.

And then I got really excited–I wonder why I’m here?! I mean, I know why I’m here…but I wonder what’s in store–I wonder whom I’m here to help, and who may come along to help me with something. Kind of puts the pressure on. Then again, it is also a relief in some ways–knowing that my presence is going to be meaningful in some way makes me want to do the best I can, but it also helps me know that I’m probably going to be doing more good than I realize even when I feel like a failure (and teaching will make you feel that way on a regular basis, as I recall). That’s what I had to remind myself after quitting my last teaching gig.

Wow! I can’t wait to dig in and see what’s coming.

The selling-out is complete. There’s a lot more “hardwood” flooring than I recall, the lighting’s not quite as garish, and the aisles are more navigable than they used to be. And, yes, the prices…they’re really good. Sigh.

I’m truly sorry, world. I’ll get my principles back…when they’re more convenient. I hear the dirty feeling eventually goes away.

Me, personally, I’m creeped out by dress-forms. They’re sort of like the Venus De Milo of Ventriloquist dummies.

Ah ha ha ha ha! Read the whole thing here.