I've always had mixed feelings about my birthday. Sometimes it surprises me at being completely awesome; sometimes my expectations are set too high and I end up disappointed. Sometimes things completely out of my control make it better or worse for no reason at all! I have a feeling this year is going to be a mix of all three :)
When I was still a manager at the movie theater, we would get visited by mystery secret shoppers on how good of a job we were doing. I found out what company provided the shoppers and signed up to be one myself. You get reimbursed for the money you spend so it's basically a free meal, movie, hotel stay, etc and you just have to fill out a report! It's completely online, so I've never met anyone through the company.
However, I still got an e-mail from them today, and this is what it said:
Hi there, birthday human!
Yeah, you thought you could keep it a secret from us - but we're smarter than that (we think). Even though you may be mysterious enough to be an esteemed member of the mystery shopping team, you can't hide the fact that the sun has moved, and the stars have aligned, or the earth has rotated, and the moon has shimmied, or the earth has revoluted, or ... you get the point. Yes, on this very day, you were a-borned lo those many years ago (hey, not THAT many, you may protest). But no matter, we didn't come here to quibble over your age. We came here, actually, collectively and with great love in our hearts, to chime in and wish you Many Happy Returns on your most magical and momentous birth celebration, or to cut to the chase a wee bit, to jump out from behind the curtain and in full throat bellow the wondrous words, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" (Sorry about that ... I hope we didn't alarm you to the point that you screamed and dropped the lemon meringue pie you were carrying.)
Thank you ever so much for being a part of our team on this day, and all days! We wish we could celebrate with you in person, but just know that we are thinking about you and stand in awe of all that you do, desiring nothing but the best for you and your'n. Now, get out there and enjoy your day! We'll be awaiting your return with the proverbial bated breath (and an oxygen cart nearby just in case you're unduly delayed - after all, partying is an art form and not to be rushed) and hope that you visit us where you will be able to find and secure the mystery shop of your dreams!
All the best from your friends and happy-go-lucky partyers!
I mean...seriously? How cute is that? I don't care that it's a generic message they probably send to everyone. It's witty and funny and completely made my day :)
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
Friday, March 6, 2015
As If Words Could Ever Do It Justice
There's a feeling that I've had for almost a month now. It's hard to blurt out because it's a reciprocal action. Or at least it's best when it's a reciprocal action.
It's hard to describe. You hear it in songs and see it in movies and read it in books. Centuries of artists have spent their entire lives trying to depict it in one way or another. All of this makes it seem almost cliché, even though it's a feeling we all know exists even if we never feel it.
How sad would it be if no one truly ever felt it. You get it from your parents, family, friends, and significant others. What if you were in a situation where we never felt that? Or what if you couldn't perceive it? I see people everyday in a depressive state...what if it completely inhibits you from feeling what others are emoting to you?
It feels so weird trying to describe it, especially because I don't know how to without using the words that countless others have used before.
I've been in relationships where I've "been in love" but it never hit me like this. Like, this isn't just me wanting to tell him because he told me or because we're in a relationship or whatever. He was making me laugh and I looked into his eyes and BAM I can't breathe because all I want to do is clear out a path for the rest of my life because I love him. It's the strange urge to laugh and cry at the same time...or be tickled for the rest of your life even though it's near torturous. It's more than just being vulnerable. I've never actually wanted to be this vulnerable before. Even when I think back to "first love" or "longest love" or even "lost love" ...it was never this impacting, scary, or...crazy! Like on one hand it's a flame that I can feel consume me from my toes to my head...and on the other it feels like it barely impacts my everyday life until I think about him or hear from him and BAM once again it consumes me.
I think that's the best way to describe it. I feel completely consumed by love. And it's not even the grandiose things that keep it alive. In fact, more often than not it's the smaller things. Like...when we were talking about Valentine's Day and he thinks it's a commercial holiday and I love every bit of it...he was going through a lot but still texted me just after midnight, wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day. There's something about the gesture...I wasn't expecting to hear from him and he had a totally legitimate reason to not say anything...but he did :)
There's also a social cue in English where when we are talking about our parents we say "my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother, etc". The possessive pronoun "my" is present. Once you drop the pronoun, it's all of a sudden more...intimate. There truly is a connotation different between "Hey I can't talk my mom is in the hospital and I have to get my sister" versus "Hey, mom is in the hospital and I have to pick up Rachel." The familiarity that is there is so so subtle...but I love it.
It's a love that makes me want to go back in time and find myself and tell me that what I felt with others isn't as good as it gets. There's more love, better love, and when you feel it...it's the best thing ever.
It's hard to describe. You hear it in songs and see it in movies and read it in books. Centuries of artists have spent their entire lives trying to depict it in one way or another. All of this makes it seem almost cliché, even though it's a feeling we all know exists even if we never feel it.
How sad would it be if no one truly ever felt it. You get it from your parents, family, friends, and significant others. What if you were in a situation where we never felt that? Or what if you couldn't perceive it? I see people everyday in a depressive state...what if it completely inhibits you from feeling what others are emoting to you?
It feels so weird trying to describe it, especially because I don't know how to without using the words that countless others have used before.
I've been in relationships where I've "been in love" but it never hit me like this. Like, this isn't just me wanting to tell him because he told me or because we're in a relationship or whatever. He was making me laugh and I looked into his eyes and BAM I can't breathe because all I want to do is clear out a path for the rest of my life because I love him. It's the strange urge to laugh and cry at the same time...or be tickled for the rest of your life even though it's near torturous. It's more than just being vulnerable. I've never actually wanted to be this vulnerable before. Even when I think back to "first love" or "longest love" or even "lost love" ...it was never this impacting, scary, or...crazy! Like on one hand it's a flame that I can feel consume me from my toes to my head...and on the other it feels like it barely impacts my everyday life until I think about him or hear from him and BAM once again it consumes me.
I think that's the best way to describe it. I feel completely consumed by love. And it's not even the grandiose things that keep it alive. In fact, more often than not it's the smaller things. Like...when we were talking about Valentine's Day and he thinks it's a commercial holiday and I love every bit of it...he was going through a lot but still texted me just after midnight, wishing me a Happy Valentine's Day. There's something about the gesture...I wasn't expecting to hear from him and he had a totally legitimate reason to not say anything...but he did :)
There's also a social cue in English where when we are talking about our parents we say "my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother, etc". The possessive pronoun "my" is present. Once you drop the pronoun, it's all of a sudden more...intimate. There truly is a connotation different between "Hey I can't talk my mom is in the hospital and I have to get my sister" versus "Hey, mom is in the hospital and I have to pick up Rachel." The familiarity that is there is so so subtle...but I love it.
It's a love that makes me want to go back in time and find myself and tell me that what I felt with others isn't as good as it gets. There's more love, better love, and when you feel it...it's the best thing ever.
Finding Forgiveness
It was impulse to e-mail you last month. I've been working for a few months to justify forgiving you in my head so I can let go and move on. It's hard. To me, you were it. You were the end all be all, and you very much broke my heart, and I'm sorry for it.
You had been on my mind. I saw the article on Facebook and I saw parallels from what you were always complaining about being wrong in your life and substance abuse. I had just found out that one of my classmates that I had known since kindergarten had died from heroin overdose. It was enough of a parallel for me to feel the need to notify you, hoping you'd connect the dots and realize there are probably more ways to create your own happiness than you are channeling. That was the only purpose of me sending that e-mail.
This message is sent with intention. As much as I would love to rip you apart and try with all my might to make you feel guilty about what you did to me, that's not going to help me let go. That's not going to help me move on. If I anchor hate for you in me, you'll always be there, and ten months after the fact, I'm ready to move on. I'm ready for you not to be there anymore. While you might not need this message, I need to send it. I need to know that I have acknowledged forgiving you and moving on. Please excuse the selfish act. Feel free to not respond, make fun of on social media, take seriously, or whatever works for you. This just works for me.
I suppose I knew when we started the relationship that you were capable of cheating on me. You almost cheated on M with me--you had said you wanted to--and because of that I should not have been surprised that you were also capable of cheating on me. The only reason you didn't cheat on her is because I didn't let you. I didn't let you have me until we were both out of relationships. I should have known that most people don't follow such rules or wait for such formalities...I should have known better. I suppose I thought I was different, especially since the first time we dated we broke up because you had said you wanted to cheat on me, yet you didn't. Sure you could cheat on someone else because they weren't who you were supposed to end up with; I thought I was. So therefore if you finally got back with me, you wouldn't feel the need to cheat. It's naive to think that, though I suppose I've really always been a naive girl. Life goes on, and hopefully I will as well.
I forgive you for betraying my trust and breaking our relationship. I don't believe you did it to hurt me. I don't blame you for justifying it in your head. I'm sure it was easy to get caught up in the moment. I don't blame the girl for going through with it, knowing you were in a relationship. I'm sure she just liked you enough to hope it was a risk worth taking. I forgive you for lying to me. I'm sure you were trying to protect me somehow. I forgive you for everything I know you did, and for anything I never found out. I don't want to know if there was more I never found out, but whether there was or wasn't, I forgive you of those thoughts and actions.
As much as I would love to dramatically say "and this is the last you'll hear from me" I don't want to be so absolute. Besides the fact that I saw your mother less than a month after we had broken up, I've always had a penchant for contacting you for one reason or another. I won't deny that old habits die hard. However, this is my act to let go, start to pick up the pieces, and move on. I hope you are doing (or have done) the same. I'm no longer trying to shut you completely out, or pretend you never existed, or hope malice comes your way. I simply want to move on, and I hope this helps me do so.
I apologize that this couldn't have been a passive act; it's hard for me to know that you'll read this and have the ability to reply. I hope life is not terrible for you, and if our paths cross again that it won't be the end of either our worlds.
You had been on my mind. I saw the article on Facebook and I saw parallels from what you were always complaining about being wrong in your life and substance abuse. I had just found out that one of my classmates that I had known since kindergarten had died from heroin overdose. It was enough of a parallel for me to feel the need to notify you, hoping you'd connect the dots and realize there are probably more ways to create your own happiness than you are channeling. That was the only purpose of me sending that e-mail.
This message is sent with intention. As much as I would love to rip you apart and try with all my might to make you feel guilty about what you did to me, that's not going to help me let go. That's not going to help me move on. If I anchor hate for you in me, you'll always be there, and ten months after the fact, I'm ready to move on. I'm ready for you not to be there anymore. While you might not need this message, I need to send it. I need to know that I have acknowledged forgiving you and moving on. Please excuse the selfish act. Feel free to not respond, make fun of on social media, take seriously, or whatever works for you. This just works for me.
I suppose I knew when we started the relationship that you were capable of cheating on me. You almost cheated on M with me--you had said you wanted to--and because of that I should not have been surprised that you were also capable of cheating on me. The only reason you didn't cheat on her is because I didn't let you. I didn't let you have me until we were both out of relationships. I should have known that most people don't follow such rules or wait for such formalities...I should have known better. I suppose I thought I was different, especially since the first time we dated we broke up because you had said you wanted to cheat on me, yet you didn't. Sure you could cheat on someone else because they weren't who you were supposed to end up with; I thought I was. So therefore if you finally got back with me, you wouldn't feel the need to cheat. It's naive to think that, though I suppose I've really always been a naive girl. Life goes on, and hopefully I will as well.
I forgive you for betraying my trust and breaking our relationship. I don't believe you did it to hurt me. I don't blame you for justifying it in your head. I'm sure it was easy to get caught up in the moment. I don't blame the girl for going through with it, knowing you were in a relationship. I'm sure she just liked you enough to hope it was a risk worth taking. I forgive you for lying to me. I'm sure you were trying to protect me somehow. I forgive you for everything I know you did, and for anything I never found out. I don't want to know if there was more I never found out, but whether there was or wasn't, I forgive you of those thoughts and actions.
As much as I would love to dramatically say "and this is the last you'll hear from me" I don't want to be so absolute. Besides the fact that I saw your mother less than a month after we had broken up, I've always had a penchant for contacting you for one reason or another. I won't deny that old habits die hard. However, this is my act to let go, start to pick up the pieces, and move on. I hope you are doing (or have done) the same. I'm no longer trying to shut you completely out, or pretend you never existed, or hope malice comes your way. I simply want to move on, and I hope this helps me do so.
I apologize that this couldn't have been a passive act; it's hard for me to know that you'll read this and have the ability to reply. I hope life is not terrible for you, and if our paths cross again that it won't be the end of either our worlds.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Unstoppable House Hack of Joy
When I was younger I used to call the laundry soap aisle "the aroma therapy" aisle because I loved how it smelled. It was always a pleasure when we randomly had fabric softener in the house and I never knew until after the laundry was done and we'd be completely out. (Thus is life)
I first saw this idea on Pinterest. They said use a wax burner and Downy Unstoppables, of which I had none. However, I do have a candle warmer, and a couple glass bowls...surely something could be done. Low and behold I get to Target and they have a sample size of Unstoppables. How can I say no to this golden opportunity!
Not only are the melted dots a fantastic shade of blue, but the smell. Oooohhh the smell. I'm so excited Pinterest didn't let me down! I put in a capful, and it started smelling like the gods before it had even all melted. Probably the best part is how the smell travels...I could smell it from my room! I could bathe in this smell, I don't know any better.
So good. So unbelievably good :)
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Mine, I tell you, MINE!
Usually, my 8th graders are my favorites. They already have a foundation of French, we have a mutual appreciation for the language, they're smarter and maturer than most other students in the school...I love them. They're awesome.
My 7th graders were not thrown in the best situation. Because I was not hired until the week before school started, the 6th grade academy cut off enrollment and only allowed one period be made for these kids. I have 33 kids in one classroom, all with varying language backgrounds and language learning experience, and I have to provide all the motivation and explanations so that they can make sense of why they're learning what they are. One of my 7th graders was beyond confused because this wasn't how we learn English when we're younger so why are we learning French this way, and let me tell you it is not easy to explain Language Acquisition Theory to a 12 year old lol.
It's been in the forefront of my mind for a while now that it is only I who is responsible for teaching these kids what they need to know to do well in high school French. There's no previous knowledge/learning, there's no other teacher, it's just me. When they get to the high school it's going to be very evident that if they don't know something then it's my fault. You know, no pressure :P
On top of teaching French and English as a New Language all day, I'm in charge of the annual EL testing, which is taking place right now. In the course of 10 school days I will have had 4--maybe 5--substitute teachers. On top of that, ISTEP is approaching directly following the EL testing, and right now it looks like due to that testing schedule, I will only be seeing my French students for 16 minutes everyday for what looks like three straight weeks. While I have no control over these things, It's getting me down, and I feel like I'm not giving my students their best teacher to prepare them for high school.
I was conveying all of this to my 7th graders because I had to postpone one of their quizzes for the second time. While I got an applause for it (I mean what 7th grader actually likes taking quizzes?) I felt terrible about it. It made me feel unreliable and like I wasn't keeping my word to these students who have nothing else to go on but my word. It was disheartening, and I apologized profusely for it, saying I completely understood if they wanted to talk to a counselor or administrator about it. I come in today, in higher spirits and a plan in action, and before the period ends I am presented with a poster signed by everyone in the class saying that "You're the best teacher!!!!". I'm still beyond words. I'm so blessed and thankful and I want to tell the world how awesome my kids are...
And then it dawned on me. My 7th graders ARE my kids. I'm the ONLY French teacher they'll have until high school. I GET to teach them everything they'll need to know for high school. My methods are the ones that will establish their foundation, and most likely be the ones that they remember most. No one can take that power away from me, and as much as I love my 8th graders, I'll never have that with them.
It was so empowering to realize that my kids, the ones that are actually MINE, appreciate me. Not because they didn't like their former teacher or they can relate to me better than someone else, but because I am their teacher and they enjoy what I present to them.
Working with 33 kids in one class is a challenge. Finding a way that they all understand to learn a new language is probably one of the hardest things I've ever done. But damn, I wouldn't let anyone take it away from me if they tried. :)
My 7th graders were not thrown in the best situation. Because I was not hired until the week before school started, the 6th grade academy cut off enrollment and only allowed one period be made for these kids. I have 33 kids in one classroom, all with varying language backgrounds and language learning experience, and I have to provide all the motivation and explanations so that they can make sense of why they're learning what they are. One of my 7th graders was beyond confused because this wasn't how we learn English when we're younger so why are we learning French this way, and let me tell you it is not easy to explain Language Acquisition Theory to a 12 year old lol.
It's been in the forefront of my mind for a while now that it is only I who is responsible for teaching these kids what they need to know to do well in high school French. There's no previous knowledge/learning, there's no other teacher, it's just me. When they get to the high school it's going to be very evident that if they don't know something then it's my fault. You know, no pressure :P
On top of teaching French and English as a New Language all day, I'm in charge of the annual EL testing, which is taking place right now. In the course of 10 school days I will have had 4--maybe 5--substitute teachers. On top of that, ISTEP is approaching directly following the EL testing, and right now it looks like due to that testing schedule, I will only be seeing my French students for 16 minutes everyday for what looks like three straight weeks. While I have no control over these things, It's getting me down, and I feel like I'm not giving my students their best teacher to prepare them for high school.
I was conveying all of this to my 7th graders because I had to postpone one of their quizzes for the second time. While I got an applause for it (I mean what 7th grader actually likes taking quizzes?) I felt terrible about it. It made me feel unreliable and like I wasn't keeping my word to these students who have nothing else to go on but my word. It was disheartening, and I apologized profusely for it, saying I completely understood if they wanted to talk to a counselor or administrator about it. I come in today, in higher spirits and a plan in action, and before the period ends I am presented with a poster signed by everyone in the class saying that "You're the best teacher!!!!". I'm still beyond words. I'm so blessed and thankful and I want to tell the world how awesome my kids are...
And then it dawned on me. My 7th graders ARE my kids. I'm the ONLY French teacher they'll have until high school. I GET to teach them everything they'll need to know for high school. My methods are the ones that will establish their foundation, and most likely be the ones that they remember most. No one can take that power away from me, and as much as I love my 8th graders, I'll never have that with them.
It was so empowering to realize that my kids, the ones that are actually MINE, appreciate me. Not because they didn't like their former teacher or they can relate to me better than someone else, but because I am their teacher and they enjoy what I present to them.
Working with 33 kids in one class is a challenge. Finding a way that they all understand to learn a new language is probably one of the hardest things I've ever done. But damn, I wouldn't let anyone take it away from me if they tried. :)
Monday, January 26, 2015
[Insert Title Here]
I've spent the better part of a month trying to figure out what I want to do with this blog.
One thing I love about it is what it represents: emotion, progress, change, evolution, perception, memories, truth, journey...
I love looking at some of the things I've written. I enjoy finding a random month and seeing if I can recall why I wrote what I did. Seeing the progression from Freshman in college mindset to first year as a full fledged adult...you can't make that stuff up. Being able to see how my views and opinions stayed the same and--more often times--changed, is very heart warming.
While I know I'll never stop changing or growing, one post I made this past year is holding extremely true to me: The rest of my life has started. And while that's a journey and mystery and adventure of its own, I'm now at a point where there are more constants than variables, and I'm ready to set some roots and explore my new adventure.
The only problem is, this kind of exploration is usually very hard to convey through the written word.
Now don't get me wrong, it's not nearly impossible to write. We look at the greatest stories written and they're able to convey every part of the journey so well that it feels like you're on the journey with them. And while I know I'm not writing for some best-seller list, I'd rather focus on experiencing this journey than writing about the experiences and holding myself to writing something once a month.
235 posts. In five years I made 235 posts. Half a decade of my life has 235 chapters...there's just something about quantifying it that makes it seem really hard to let go.
And it's not that I plan to never post again. And I'm CERTAINLY not about to delete this. But I want to post because I have something to say, or something I need to vent about, or something meaningful to me that I plan to share. If it ends up happening so often that I'm posting each month then that's a happy coincidence but not my point. I'm excited for this journey, and I plan to enjoy every step of it :)
Thank you for reading :)
One thing I love about it is what it represents: emotion, progress, change, evolution, perception, memories, truth, journey...
I love looking at some of the things I've written. I enjoy finding a random month and seeing if I can recall why I wrote what I did. Seeing the progression from Freshman in college mindset to first year as a full fledged adult...you can't make that stuff up. Being able to see how my views and opinions stayed the same and--more often times--changed, is very heart warming.
While I know I'll never stop changing or growing, one post I made this past year is holding extremely true to me: The rest of my life has started. And while that's a journey and mystery and adventure of its own, I'm now at a point where there are more constants than variables, and I'm ready to set some roots and explore my new adventure.
The only problem is, this kind of exploration is usually very hard to convey through the written word.
Now don't get me wrong, it's not nearly impossible to write. We look at the greatest stories written and they're able to convey every part of the journey so well that it feels like you're on the journey with them. And while I know I'm not writing for some best-seller list, I'd rather focus on experiencing this journey than writing about the experiences and holding myself to writing something once a month.
235 posts. In five years I made 235 posts. Half a decade of my life has 235 chapters...there's just something about quantifying it that makes it seem really hard to let go.
And it's not that I plan to never post again. And I'm CERTAINLY not about to delete this. But I want to post because I have something to say, or something I need to vent about, or something meaningful to me that I plan to share. If it ends up happening so often that I'm posting each month then that's a happy coincidence but not my point. I'm excited for this journey, and I plan to enjoy every step of it :)
Thank you for reading :)
Saturday, December 13, 2014
No More Emails!
I was going to post this on a fan based Gilmlre Girls Wiki, but they wanted me to register and I'm sooooo tired of giving my email address to register for things and then getting spammed with emails
Question: How is Rory a nickname of Lorelai?
My Answer: Lingustically speaking, L's and R's are both liquids. This is why languages like Japonese that don't differentiate liquids struggle with the two sounds and switching them up. That being said, when learning to speak as infants age, the two sounds can be switched throughout trying to grasp speaking the language.
So my theory is that Lorelai was trying to teach Rory to say her name by asking her to say "Lorie". I would thing that "Rory" was said instead in the beginning, switching the L's and R's because, well, baby. Now Lorelai, being the wonderful example setter she was at 17 years old, probably found it funny and laughed, and encouraged it. The rest is history!
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