So, I just started this other post…

…that I immediately relegated to draft status, where it will remain, because it was full of angst and venom at MEAN teachers who spew their angst and venom at me just because I don’t think a certain kid is all evil and who decided it would be a great idea to report me to my department head because I think I’m better than his other teachers.

And she used the word “proliferating” COMPLETELY wrong.  If you’re going to borderline harass me on work email, at least learn to use a dictionary.

I’m a little angsty.

Just wanted you to know.

In other news, I’m enjoying my semi-break from the internet.  I’ve been extremely more productive.  And I’m actually reading real books, with pages and stuff.

Also, I can’t believe I ever quit Netflix.  It’s the most innovative and beautiful concept since the public library, or possibly bacon.

I dreamed last night that I got a new job, and it was one of the best dreams I’d ever had.  You know the journey I’ve been through with teaching–I kind of hate it, but while I’m doing it, I want to do right by my chi’ren and do a good job overall.  After days like today, though, I find myself wishing to really and truly be canned.

I wished for a lot of things driving away from school today, actually.

I miss some people right now.  I kind of feel like cutting out some people right now.  Not you.

I almost deleted my Facebook.  I wimped out.  Next time, for real.

I kind of need a hug.  Like, one of those really long, close, slow-breathing ones.

The What-ifs.

I reside in “what if?” land for probably too large of a percentage of my life.  You know this–you’ve read my blog.  I lament the what-might-have-beens and the if-I’d-onlys, but I also hope that I spend a counterbalancing amount of time looking forward to the what-could-bes.  I cry a lot about the former as it happens, but I have to say I enjoy staring into the distance, envisioning the latter as well.

A history professor once gave me what I took as a compliment, though I’m thinking he meant it as less than such.  I think I’d been asking too many questions about Johnson’s tactics in Vietnam, and he finally sputtered, “you–you can’t ask that now!  You’re being a counterfactual thinker!”  At the time, as I said, I thought that was the greatest thing anyone had ever said about me.  Since then–though it still makes me smile–I’ve wondered if he somehow put a curse on me with those two words.

Counterfactual thinking has caused me a lot of grief in ensuing years–grief that I could have avoided by just sucking it up and accepting the facts.  It’s just that I know things don’t always have to be the way they are.  And I get very frustrated–hurt, angry even–when they’re not the way they should be.  Whatever that is.

I’ll return to that in a moment.  Relatedly, though…I’ve noticed a pattern in the past few years of being drawn to movies, works of art, etc., that deal with illusions, alternate realities, or tangential universes.  I think it started with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind; no…probably actually with Sliding Doors.  And, of course, there’s the aforementioned Donnie Darko.  (Incidentally, I think I was the only person alive who actually liked the movie What Dreams May Come.  Of course, being 19 and nursing my first really, truly broken heart could have had something to do with it.)  And way before seeing those movies, I loved books like The Great Gatsby, which is one of the classic works dealing with illusion vs. reality.

Strangely–and tangentially, hee–I don’t really dig sci-fi or fantasy as a general rule.  I haven’t figured out exactly why yet, though.

Anyway.

I think I just really like the idea of getting another chance–of there being a better way and of being able to attain it if you try hard enough.  Or if your heart is true enough, or whatever.  But, in an imperfect world, even if your motives are pure and you do it all just right, you don’t always ride into the sunset.  And never mind those of us with mostly-pure-but-not-always motives, and who certainly do not do it all just right.

Or maybe I just haven’t found my portal, or my rabbit hole, or whatever it is that’s going to be my wardrobe door into my better way.  Oh, not that I’m unhappy or that I don’t appreciate this beautiful world, because I’m not and I do (at least to the extent my feeble human brain will let me).  I’m loving life more and more.  There are just those things I wish I’d said, or that I know can happen but I don’t know why they’re not happening, and so on.  And…there’s that ache that’s gently healing, but that still feels like a glitch in the Matrix.  And that I’m not sure will ever go away, at least not until this odd tangential universe I’m in rejoins the “real” universe.

It’s just that those other paths, those other lives, those other realities…sometimes, they’re just as real to me as this life I’m living right now.

Under the wire: in honor of Earth Day, one of my favorite hymns.

Because it’s His, after all, you know?

For the beauty of the earth,
For the beauty of the skies,
For the love which from our birth
Over and around us lies,
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our grateful hymn of praise.

For the beauty of each hour
Of the day and of the night,
Hill and vale, and tree and flower,
Sun and moon and stars of light,
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our grateful hymn of praise.

For the joy of human love,
Brother, sister, parent, child,
Friends on earth, and friends above,
Pleasures pure and undefiled,
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our grateful hymn of praise.

For each perfect gift of thine,
To our race so freely given,
Graces human and divine,
Flowers of earth and buds of heaven,
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our grateful hymn of praise.

For thy Church which evermore
Lifteth holy hands above,
Offering up on every shore
Her pure sacrifice of love,
Lord of all, to thee we raise
This our grateful hymn of praise.

A few things whilst taking advantage of the ‘rents’ wifi.

1.  I don’t like how appropriately using two apostrophes in the same word in my blog title looks like I’m inappropriately using single quotes.

2.  My jaw is hurting something fierce tonight.  Cursed TMJ.  When you read that out loud, because that’s what you do with your family on a Saturday night, make sure to pronounce “cursed” with two syllables.  I think the extra pain is a result of having scream-sung along with most of Counting Crows’s Recovering the Satellites in the car today.  Also, the apostrophe-s in “Crows’s” is correctly used, despite mainstream understanding of apostrophes, which is kind of an oxymoron.

3.  Saw State of Play today.  I really liked it.  Every time I see a “journalist saves the day” movie, I briefly go back to being a teenager who wanted to be her generation’s Murrow or Cronkite or Woodward or Bernstein.  I couldn’t handle the pressure now, seeing as how I often retreat into Rain Man World after a few hours with screaming teenagers as it is, but there’s something thrilling about the thought of chasing down a story and capturing it with my words.  

I had dreams once.

4.  In re-watching Donnie Darko this morning (it’s been several months–don’t know how that happened), guess who I discovered has a small part?  Yup.

5.  The school year needs to end, and I need a job.  Right now, I need to go to bed.  My best for your weekend.

Feel-good Friday–The Kinks, “You Really Got Me”

Back in high school, being obsessed with all things ’60s and British and quasi-Beatle-related, I fell madly for this band for a very brief time. I appreciate them on a different level now, but in the end, this is just straight-up rock and roll. And I love it.

So, I chose this song somewhat at random and didn’t really plan to write much about it–I mean, what needs to be written? It’s awesome, hello. But then…something happened. I don’t even know if I should mention it.

In the comments under this video on YouTube, someone wrote, “Seth Rogen looks similar to this guy!”

What?! Seth Rogen and Ray Davies? That’s not allowed. Especially when I’m having some serious personal issues of the Seth Rogen kind.

But he kinda does, if only in this particular video.  There are cosmic implications to this…I just don’t know what they are yet.

Thankful Thursday

A’ight. Let’s do this.

1. Parents who continue to bail me out. I have had a serious tail-kicking session with myself over this this week. I’m trying to get myself out of debt, but it’s going to be a long time. Especially if I really am going to be without a job soon. They’re helping me out a LOT. And as for me, I’ve not bought a single cup of coffee this week, not from Fido, not from Cafe Coco, not from Starbucks, not even from Sonic.

2. The White Stripes. I’ve systematically gone through each of their albums in chronological order this week and concluded that if you say you love rock and roll and simultaneously claim not to like the White Stripes, you are a liar. At least one of those statements is not true in your case.

3. Dorian’s being okay. He’s recovering nicely from last week’s health trauma. Bless him. I love my little kibbers.

4. Speaking of Dorian, I’m thankful for this litter. It works better than any I’ve ever used. Just a little consumer report for you there.

5. Co-workers. If, indeed, I will not be returning to my job, they are whom I’m going to miss the most. I have some seriously interesting, kind, super-intelligent, and talented colleagues, and so many of them could be doing so many other things with their time. They choose, though, to make a lot less money for a lot more heartache…only they don’t see it that way at all.

6. Getting rid of more noise. Because my finances at the moment are flatlining, I will be getting rid of my cable TV and internet in a few days. I think Friday–not sure. The TV has just been background, mainly, and the internet…well, you know the kind of relationship I have with the internet. I’ll be consuming it for more utilitarian purposes henceforth. Except when I want to go to Fido and stare at it for a few hours at a time while I should be grading. It’s actually a relief.

Don’t know about you, but I’ll be glad when this week is over. But it’s had its bright spots, too. Some warm weather next week, maybe?

Forgiveness.

The church I am a member of does not usually have a special sermon or service for Easter. I’m cool with that. At times, such as this morning, it can work out very well. The sermon today was on forgiveness. More on that in a sec.

Tonight, on This American Life, guess what the topic was? Apologies (or the lack thereof). Forgiveness. They reminded me of this poem:

this is just to say
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox
and which you were probably saving for breakfast
forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
~William Carlos Williams (typed from memory, so forgive any mistakes)

I’ve always thought that poem ended with the perfect word–”cold.”  There’s a coldness in that sentiment:  ”oh well, I know you wanted those, but they were really good–forgive me!”

I like the poem, but hate the attitude.  But that’s not exactly what I want to talk about here.

***

I’m not so hot at forgiveness.  Externally, I’m pretty awesome at it–I brush off any instance of wrongdoing, and often even explain for the person or blame myself.  It’s this thing where I feel like if I’m not perfect, I have no right to judge anyone else’s offenses against me.  It makes my job unbearable sometimes–if I haven’t dotted every i or crossed every t, I feel like I don’t have the right to take certain actions against students who cause problems.

It’s pretty messed up.  I don’t see it changing, sadly, anytime soon.

Anyway, I’m bad about trying to suck things up, not being able to, and then seething on the inside.  One thing I hate more than just about any other, though, is passive aggression, partly because I see my capacity for it and despise it about myself.  Thus, if I can’t suck it up, I at least suck it in.  Which sucks.  Ha.

***

It’s myself I have the hardest time forgiving, however.  This is not noble.  (Another pet peeve is people’s talking about how hard they are on themselves or what hardcore perfectionists they are–puh-leeze, that’s just another way of saying “I’m not only awesome, I’m really humble about it.”  Anyway.)  It is not noble to beat oneself up continuously.

I had my eyes opened a few years ago, however, when someone (I cannot remember who) pointed out that it’s pretty pompous to go on about how you can’t forgive yourself when God can.  I mean, think about it–God, who created this whole beautiful/awful world, whose Son died for me so I could be forgiven, chooses to forgive me when I do my typical, stupid Holly things.  Yet I–I of the short sight, selfishness, and penchant to get myself into the messes that require forgiveness–will not deign to do the same?  That’s…arrogant.  And dangerous.

***

I’ve done a lot of things in recent times that I never thought I would.  I haven’t done a lot of regretting, though perhaps I should have.  I’m trying to balance it all out.  Kicking myself, worrying, whatever…it all eventually yields itself to what I know is true and right and good.  

I still have a family whose forgiveness reaches to the point of bailing me out when they shouldn’t have to.  They’ve gone above and beyond just recently.  

I still have love in my heart after having it crushed–not because of my strength, but because of the strength of love itself.  For better or worse.

***

This is my favorite verse of the Bible.  Romans 8:38-39.

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Not even pain, not even my inability to keep out of debt, not even regrets or the lack thereof.  Not even myself.

The short list for a Saturday evening.

1.  I will begin counting calories again on Monday.  Jane Q. has inspired me.  I got REALLY tired of it, but then found out it was apparently working.  I HATE it.  I HATE that I’m one of those people who has to do such.  I need a metabolism transplant.  Or a hormone re-routing or something.

2.  The reason I’m saying Monday instead of tomorrow is that today my mom gave me a tray of mini Cadbury eggs.  It’s not Easter without them in my world, but for some reason I hadn’t consumed the sugary richness of one of my favorite treats this year.  I was feeling the void, but the mom came through.  I was having a conversation with a friend today and was amazed to find out that she didn’t like them.  She prefers Peeps, which I of course like as well, but she says it’s gross that Cadbury eggs have fake yolks.  She, of course, is wrong, but I still love her.

3.  Why would a TV station play The Ten Commandments on Easter eve?  That’s kind of an anachronism.

4.  I got to see my bug today.  Her blue eyes are even sparklier and her little cheeks are even more kissable than ever.  I cannot remember the world without her.

5.  Have you found me a job yet?  Get on that.

6.  My last status update on Facebook said “Holly is lonely, but she ain’t that lonely yet.”  I was doing a major White Stripes thing today (and last night).  I don’t think I’d listened to Get Behind Me Satan in months.  Maybe a year.  In any case, as always, I found something new and applicable in the lyrics of a song I’d heard a jillion times.  And here you go.

And sometimes I wanna call you
But I feel like a pest
And I’m lonely, but I ain’t that lonely yet

So old. So sleepy.

Tonight, I went to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show at the Belcourt with Samantha.  A few thoughts before I pass out:

1.  This was my second “live” viewing of the movie.  The first was almost exactly ten years ago, when I signed out of the dorm and got into a car with a bunch of boys to drive to a skeezy theater in Jackson, TN.  I was 19, and the boys were my ex-non-boyfriend and his band.  It was scarier and more rousing then.

2.  Here’s why:  first, I was 19.  I said that.  But I was a sophomore at a private Christian school, and we weren’t in general encouraged to condone…er, anything in that movie.  Also, though–and second–I didn’t realize the full extent of the audience participation aspect.  Everyone was on their feet and yelling and throwing things.  I was horrified and fascinated…and delighted.  Not gonna lie.  Tonight was fun, but there were just a couple of guys roaming the aisles shouting the retorts.

3.  Speaking of said alma mater, I saw a guy tonight who went to the same school.  I hid my face so he wouldn’t see me.  Why did I do that?  

4.  One of the guys with a mic shouting things at the screen looked a lot like Seth Rogen.  Oh, dear me.  I will tell you about my new, loathsome Seth Rogen…thing…eventually.  On the heels of the Bret Michaels confession, though, it might be a bit much.  Anyway, the shouting Seth Rogen boy kept handing me his props and talking to me.  Dunno if he was flirting.  I decided to pretend he was and enjoy it.  Pretty anti-climactic, though.  I handed his wig to an usher on the way out, and that was that.

5.  I really needed some food after the movie.  No dice.  I’m looking at you, “24-hour” Belle Meade Taco Bell.

6.  I cannot do late nights anymore.  Especially considering, as I write this, on a school night I’d be waking up in about 40 minutes.  Think about THAT.

This is me, very sleepy.  I put my wrist up so you could see my cool green bracelet that said I was old enough to see the movie (even though I got carded even though I’m almost 30):

Feel-Good Friday, I dreamed about Bret Michaels edition.

It’s true.  I think I’ve confessed here before (I know I have on Facebook) that I’m slightly addicted to Rock of Love Bus.  

It’s taken its toll.  Last night, I dreamed I was one of the two finalists for Bret’s love.  (Even typing that makes me shudder slightly.)  It was down to me and Mindy, whom I’m actually hoping will get the ring this Sunday.  This dream situation came with a programmed set of dream memories that helped me understand how I got there–as I “thought back” in the dream, I saw myself in all these absurd situations the real contestants find themselves in–drama, cat-fighting, “dates” with Bret.

I even had a “memory” of having to explain to Bret that I couldn’t wear the typical apparel or have an overnight date with him because my parents would be very disappointed in me.  I mean…my dad’s a preacher.  Somehow, though, he had understood to the point of letting me survive until the final elimination.

Which was held in a church.  I do not even need to know the Freudian or other implications of such a setting, but I do know that there were a LOT of people there.  And just as Bret leaned in to give me one of his fish-mouth kisses (shudder again), I realized my parents were sitting a few pews behind me.  Oy.  I had to divert the kiss, and then I started rooting for myself to lose.  I woke up before I could learn who won.

Well, there’s that.  I decided, thus, for Feel-Good Friday, I’d give you some old-school Poison.  Also, it’s the only Poison song I remember.  And who knew they were on Unplugged back in the day?