Jalopies

Yesterday my friend Sam called and asked me to bring my jumper cables... She needed her car jumped and apparently I'm gaining a reputation in that expertise. That is at least the fourth car I have jump started in the past 6 months. Is it just me, or is that an insane number of people who need jumper cables?

Then this morning, as I was driving out to school, the car next to me is making this terrible roaring noise. Sounded like a plane taking off. It was so loud, I actually sped up to get past them for fear of aerial artillery possibly projectile firing and exploding my jeep. Unfortunately, as I sped up to avoid the car next to me, I realized the incredible noise was actually coming from MY car. The muffler seemed to have either fallen off or was in the process of completing its short fall to the crusty earth and I could not have been more displeased. It was 7 o'clock in the morning. Who would pick me up, give me a ride, or help me figure this out? Ridiculous.

It reminded me of a chapter in John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath. Car salesmen were exploiting the migration of those suffering from the Dust Bowl and looking to move West. They sold junky cars for 3 or 4 times what they were worth, knowing they'd break down in 100 miles or less. I feel like I've got a jalopy. Apparently mufflers and tailpipes cost $290.... On the upside, the people at Monroe Muffler, Brake, and services are incredibly kind.

A Proposal

Who is able? Who is willing? If the groom comes and says, "Choose me! Choose me!" but she says, "Oh... Not today..." will he come back? How many times will he return and ask her, beg her, to choose him? And how many times will she, a silly girl with nothing, turn away the one who is everything? Will his love for her waiver? what stops her from dropping whatever reservations she has to choose him, not just once, but everyday, forever? Does she not understand enough about who he is to honor his request for her? She figures. This thing I'm holding is too valuable to be dropped. She frets. She fears. These things I'm holding are too dangerous to be dropped and if they were, they will make a mess. The groom says, "I've done everything for you. Choose me." She listens. She believes; yet, she clings. She walks to the door and presses a weary forehead against the solid frame and listens again to the voice outside...

"Choose me!"
"Not today... Today's not good..."

How many times will she refuse? How many times will he return?

The Panda Says NO!

Bright and early Saturday morning brings a lovely smattering of high stakes bubble sheet questions and flustered essay answers. Can't wait for THAT. Until that heavenly Praxis Examination day, you can find me huddled in my room cramming my 3 and a 1/2 years of college into my head like a chipmunk shoving food in its cheeks.

I'm not ashamed to say syntax has never been my forte. I have several "Go-to" books on my shelf I constantly need to reference. There's one in particular that I grabbed this morning to brush up on my semi-colon usage for the Praxis called Eats, Shoots & Leaves. It is the funniest book I've ever read. Period. If you can't tell from the title, it's about punctuation and grammar... Which I am the first to admit wouldn't be the key to any person's funny bone. I've read this book more than once and today, as I hunkered down ready to get serious about my studies, I found myself lacking the restraint to put it down. I don't understand how someone can make me laugh out loud, and not just chuckle a little bit but really laugh hard... About something like an appostrophe or question mark, no less. The lady is a comedic genius and the subject matter just happens to pertain to my career choice. Lucky ducky.

Even if you are not a punctuation stickler, the book is hysterical. Once again, I'm genuinely amazed.

To Zoe.

To my faithful and single reader... Hi Zoe. I'm glad you're my friend and you talk to me about things that are hard when it's easier not to tell me anything. I love you for your need to be straight about things. Merry Christmas.

The black void that is my future....

Today I perused the Peace Corps website. Again. For over 6 years I've been thinking about the Peace Corps and I still haven't applied. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever actually go. I also printed out an application for Grad School and a teaching fellowship at OU. It's like high school all over again... People want to know your plans after you graduate. I'm tempted to try covering all the options but it would all be out of a need to feel some sense of security. In High School when I prayed about where to go to college and whether or not Ohio University was too far away, God just said, "Where can you flee from me? In the mountains? In the valleys? Even there, I'll be with you." That was enough. It still is. I'm not as strong as I used to be and I'm a lot more scared all the time too, but his promises are independent of my petty insecurities. I don't know what I'm doing. It's terrifying and it's been a long time since I let myself free fall into God's plan. Maybe I don't even know how anymore.

There's nothing like being told you are humble to make you feel prideful. Seriously. Goes straight to my head. It's incredibly annoying.

Ferris Wheels and Knickers

Next Monday is my birthday. I detest birthdays. They make people feel entitled to the attentions of others. They find themselves in one of two categories at the end of a Ferris Wheel day brimming with cyclically paranoid emotions. Either they wake up and realize their day is pretty much the same as other days and find disappointment for feeling disappointed. Or if they are met with a shower of attention from family and friends, they are morbidly repulsed by the very tenders to which they previously felt entitled.

This Monday I will embark on the pinnacle of my collegiate career. Most of my classmates in the Education field have had a fraction of the time and experience in classrooms that I have been blessed with having before student teaching. They're justifiably shaking in their carefully selected teaching knickers. Regardless of experience and preparation, I am too. In the sage words of a Mr. Bruce Dalzell, seasoned performer, "It's just because you care." Thanks, Brucie.

Friendly Reminders

Interesting night Thursday night. I was sick. REALLY sick. Sweating and shivering, towel-over-eyes-lying-under-blankets-hugging-a-trashcan kind of sick. It's strange, but there are only two people I ever want to talk to at times like those. My mom and God. Seeing that I haven't talked to either in far too long, it seemed like a good and wretched reminder.