A Note from the Messenger

I hate bad news. Really don't like talking about it at all; I get flustered and awkward, because I don't know what to say.

Something I hate more? Having to be the bearer of said bad news.

Case in point: the partner of one of my co-workers (boyfriend sounds too juvenile for their situation), he passed away this morning from a heart attack. What makes it worse is the suddenness--he had recently been diagnosed with cancer, and it had metastasized. So she had been preparing for a completely different type of passing and was hit with this.

Anyway, my response to people calling for her is to respond with a "there's been a family emergency", take a message, and see if there's someone else that could handle the situation. Anyway, I said that to one guy, and he, being a decent human being, responded that he hoped everyone was okay.
I really don't know what to say at that point. Not really, but I don't know how much information to give you.

In a weird sort of way, he then says, "I've been working with her for 20 years."

I then asked if he knows the man, and he says he does.

So I have to be the one to tell him. And it sucks.

Then, I got a call from a guy that said he was a doctor who's been treating the guy (verified by the caller ID that listed a local hospital as the source of the call).
How in God's name do I respond to that? Sorry, Doctor, but your patient passed away.

Tried to find her home phone, but she prefers privacy and doesn't have one on file with us. Someone else in the office offered to talk to the doctor and let him know.

I'm just out of sorts this morning. My heart really just feels heavy. Today, I honestly would prefer telemarketers and cold calls, because at least I can detach my emotions from that.

Chalkboard Wishes and Coffee Mug Dreams

If you've ever asked me about my career plans for, oh, about a minute, you know that in the long-term, I want to become a teacher.

If you've known me for a while, you know that I've been searching for a teaching job for a really, really long time (passed the two year mark recently). And while that might not seem like a long time in the big scheme of things, it feels more like I've always been searching.

It's been super frustrating. I'm constantly reminded about my lack of a position from people asking about my search (not your fault, you're curious, I know), from seeing friends' post about teaching stuff (also no hard feelings--I teach vicariously through your stories), from going home and seeing the reference and classroom library books I've collected in waiting for that moment.

It's take a long, long time, but I'm content at the moment. My receptionist job keeps me on my toes with plenty to do, and I've learned a lot about technology. But I still hope after every interview for that blessed job offer call, but if it doesn't happen for a while, I'll make do.

The reason this is on my mind at the moment?
  • I interviewed last week at a nearby high school. I don't know how it went. I had interviewed with the principal before, when he was at the middle school two years ago. I wonder why I didn't get the job then, and if that hurts me now.
    But I did what any good LA native would do--when my friend, a graduate of the school, offered to put in a good word with someone there, I did not refuse. Not even once out of politeness.
  • I've also got a campus visit with a local private school next week. It looks like a really nice school, and the commute's not too bad. Plus, since they board, there might be a chance I could have a place to crash during the week and visit on weekends. I'm really nervous-excited, because the visit will involve teaching a lesson too.
  • Today, my fortune cookie at lunch said that my "wish is about to come true." I don't know if it's referring to this wish of a teaching job or not, but fingers crossed!

Day 16 (+4): Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better, but Only If I Feel Like It.



(Yes, yes, I got even more behind. I’ll catch up though. Eventually.)
My inspiration today is this article. I thought it quite interesting. The article’s theory is that girls are taught from an early age that intelligence/cleverness is an innate ability that one does or doesn’t possess, while boys are taught that intelligence/cleverness can be improved upon through focus and hard work. Because of this, the article supposes that girls (specifically at the 5th grade level) give up more easily when they come to an obstacle than boys do.

I, of course, had to think back to my 5th grade experience. Most of my 5th grade memories aren’t academic—after all, it was 1999 to 2000, so I mostly remember being worried that the end of times was nigh. (Seriously, kid you not, the only thing that managed to quell my fear was on New Year’s Eve when the year changed over in Asia and Australia, and I thought, If it made it to 2000 there…) I also have other memories from the year, also not related to my studies, like the weight related one I touched on in this post.

The one thing that really stands out from what I learned was this poetry contest. Basically, my teacher had us each write a poem, and the ones chosen would be entered into this anthology.
And I was just so confident about it. I remember thinking, I’ve got this in the bag. Yeah, I know—I was such a huge turd-nugget. Anyway, turns out I was right; my poem along with two others in my class were chosen to be put in the book [here’s the Amazon link of the edition I was in]. The book is somewhere at my parents’ house, because I’m pretty sure I didn’t bring it with me.
How does that anecdote tie in with the article? Well, I thought I had an innate ability to write well, when to be honest, I knew how to play the system. Rhyming? Check. Ridiculous premise? Check. Set stanza form to make it sound more lyrical? Check. 5th Grade Samantha didn’t play no games, yo. And part of me purposefully knew that I was writing something that would appeal to whoever was choosing the winners. But mostly, I just had been kind of catered to believe I was an awesome writer.
I know now that there has to be an internal desire to be a writer, but it does take hard work. I’m sure that if I had applied myself, I could have focused more on the hard sciences or math, and went to college in those areas. But I had always been told that reading/writing was my thing.

So was it because I was a girl? I don’t think so. Having an older sister who had been praised more for the sciences and math areas, I think it was more of a comparative things. At that same age, Heather struggled more with getting the context behind the reading, while I usually made mistakes on math (I would add when I needed to multiply, stuff like that). It was the way my parents (and teachers) saw what we were actually good at. It was one of the good things that came out of having a sibling so close to my age that —adults could compare us and actually say, Sibling 1 is good at one thing while Sibling 2 is good at another.

I do think the theory holds some water. After all, I remember in high school, getting so frustrated in my math classes, and just plain becoming pissy about it. Granted, I still did well, but I was so used to knowing how to do things almost immediately, or with very little thinking, that any obstacle just bothered me. I quickly learned in college that sometimes things take time.
I don’t think that was fully a girl thing either. It was more based on my own inflated ego about schoolwork. (What can I say? I know I was full of myself.)

My point is, while I can see why the article comes to that conclusion, I wonder how much is situational and based on that particular girl’s experience in the classroom.

Day 3: Extra! Extra! Read All About It! Hot Off the Presses!

So, I realized the other day, some you were probably thinking:
How do I know that she's not just writing these before had and scheduling them to publish everyday?

Well...you don't. But here's a screenshot proof. With timestamp!
Well, a timestamp from this morning. Still counts.
And while you don't know if I don't just have them all stored away on my computer, trust me when I say I don't. Though, if you know me, you know that I'm not exactly one to pre-emptively pre-write everything.

Today, though, I'm going to talk about my creative process.
First, once I have an idea (like the idea I had about talk about my creative process--so meta), I write down a short blurb. Like, a few words, not even really a sentence. This entry's blurb was "no pre-written blogs and why". As you can see, pretty simple. I write it down using this great to-do list app called Todoist that I have connected across all the computers/electronics I use on a regular basis. And I can just go to that handy website if I'm using a different location (like if I'm at the local library or whatnot). And I can organize tasks by project, so that's helpful. It's a pretty awesome app. [PS, if you're from Todoist and want to show appreciation for my plug, contact form's on the right-->]

Anyway, after that, I just let the ideas fester internally. True brainstorming, if you will. If I was more precise about my entries, I would have pre-started blogs for each idea, and I would work with them when I decided to. But that would go against the idea behind why I began this resolution in the first place: to write 500 words consistently, on a daily basis. If I had even outlined blog posts, I feel that that is like cheating myself into making my quota, and then leading me to feel guilty about an arbitrary line I metaphorically drew myself. It's dumb and  something I already do more than necessary, but what can I say? At least I'm consistent.

Maybe, just maybe, if I make this a consistent habit, of writing down thoughts and ideas and letting the words just flow every day, then maybe my more creative side will be able to do the same. And that will help me to where I can reach that goal of getting published.

Or maybe I'll just be like 300 Sandwiches Girl, make some ridiculous premise for a blog (like, oh, I don't know, writing a set amount each day or something like that), and get a book deal that way.
[Side Note: Sandwich #212 had Chia Seeds on it. Homegirl has officially left the building, if you know what I mean.]

The point is, I like my process as it is. Unformed. Malleable. Not really a process. I like the spontaneity of writing the words as they form in my head. And while I do some "on-the-run" editing (cutting stuff out later, backspacing out of that brick wall I just hit), most of this is just on the fly. Obviously.

I mean, come on, the clichés in that last paragraph alone make me cringe a little bit. But that's part of my process. It's the progression of ideas, even the really, really bad ones.

Day 2: "My Best Friend is a Person Who Will Give Me a Book I Have Not Read.”

Abe Lincoln speaking some truth right there.

When you step in my small but cozy apartment, the first thing you notice? The books.
There's a short but wide bookshelf to your right, under the the front window. It's my newest addition and one I'm particularly proud of--not only did I buy it new for half-price (thanks for closing, Office Depot down the road!), but I put it together 95% by myself. [Brett helped hold a piece while I screwed it into the base] And the shelf looks damn spiffy, if I do say so myself.
The next one is behind the loveseat. It's taller but skinny. It's technically Brett's, but I feel connected to it as well, because I was there when he got it and helped put it together.
Right next to that one is a plastic one, kind of like this one. I got it while in Herget, because I needed some way to give my desk more space. More for office supplies and that sort of thing. However, like a lot of my square-shaped furniture, it has become a bookshelf, save for one square that's holding my teaching materials box.
In the corner next to that one is a converted DVD shelf. My roommates from Brightside were leaving (I had taken over a sublease), and one of them was leaving the shelf. I was all, You're not taking that? She responded no and asked if I wanted it. I giddily took it off her hands (no exaggeration). It's held up pretty well.
The last and largest (at 6 ft.) is my baby. It was a graduation gift from Brett, and it's taken a bit of a beating between Brightside and here. But nothing a little wood glue couldn't fix. The best part is the top of it is stable enough to stack books upon as well.

If you've gotten this far, you're probably thinking, this girl is insane. Five bookshelves in one room? Does she have enough books to fill them?

The short answer? Yes. I actually have more books than shelf space.

A large portion of my books are in cardboard boxes still. The cardboard boxes were at one point in time all stacked atop one another to the side, serving as a makeshift book shelf. Surprisingly, it lasted until early last month (a year and a half) before toppling, and only the top ones fell.

Why so many books, you ask? Well, for a few reasons:
  • I have always, always, enjoyed reading. I was that kid that squealed at getting B&N gift cards at Christmas time.
  • Problem of being a good reader is you usually fly through the books you do have fairly quickly. And while I did go to the local library as a kid, the Humphreys County library isn't large by any means.
  • I can't pass up a good deal at a garage sale/book bazaar/thrift shop. Ever.
    • Possibly a picture from my youth.
  • I like to have the books I've read. I have memories tied to those books, so it's hard to part with them, even if I thought the story stunk.
I know the final hard copy count is somewhere around 1100. I also have at least a hundred or so digital books (some PDFs, some Nook-based), those some of those I have in hard copy too. [You can never have too many copies of Jane Eyre.]

The main reason I keep my books though is they're a comfort. Put me in a place with tons of books, and I'm instantly at ease. While the way we read them and what we get from them changes, the books themselves stay the same. And there's a peace I get from that.

And I really really just like to read.

Day 1: "And We'll Take a Cup o’ Kindness Yet, for Auld Lang Syne."

Here begins a new year, and with it, a new blog.

I’ve started a good many blogs/journals/ways of keeping up with my life over the years. Thankfully, most of the über-embarrassing stuff is gone the way of the trash. I’m cringing now just thinking about some of those entries.

My point is this isn’t a novel idea during my life. I just thinking that writing in particular is an area that I need to revitalize.

As most of you know, it’s a dream of mine to be published one day. And I plan to make that happen. To do so, however, requires practice. And since, well, graduating with my English degree in 2011, I haven’t done a whole lot of creative writing.
Sure, there was that entire year where I was writing lesson plans and my action research paper, and all the assignments in between, but it’s not the same. I thought that maybe, after a few months of a teaching job under my belt, I would be able to find the time to write again.

And here we are, 1.5 years later, and to say that things didn’t turn out as I planned is quite an understatement.

It’s weird, 2014. It seems a lot more people are reflective on 2013 and how they’re excited for the upcoming year. All I have to say to 2013 is, “Nice knowing ya!”
2013 for me wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t a super awesome year. I didn’t lose the weight that I wanted to. I didn’t find the teaching job I want so badly. I didn’t follow through with plans I made for myself. I don’t feel that I internally grew over the last 12 months.

It’s been fairly sucky (scientific term there) since I moved to Virginia. Don’t get me wrong—I’ve met great people and done cool things here, but it’s really hard seeing my friends getting on with their lives and doing awesome things. To be frank, part of me is a jealous grump when my friends post about their students/classes/etc. I just want what they have, and it’s so hard because I’ve been trying for so long. And when I get that question about why I’m not teaching from someone back home, it makes me want to cry out, “I want to, but no one wants me!”

It’s kind of freeing, letting this out there. I’ve been in a self-esteem slump for a while, which has contributed to or caused the aforementioned things that didn’t happen in 2013. And while I’m naturally a more optimistic person, this past year has been spent mainly keeping my spirit’s head above water.


2014, though. It’s going to be awesome. I’m going to make it awesome. By making time to do more things that make me happy. By doing the things that need to get done before they get to the point of stress-inducing (I’m looking at you, dirty dishes). By taking the moment to relish what I’ve got and knowing that good stuff is still in the horizon, even if it’s not the stuff I’m expecting.


By just stopping and breathing, and trucking on.