Bounce wit' me

So I replaced my awesome retro folding chair that I'd been using as a computer chair with an exercise ball a couple days ago. So far I'm not sure about the health effects, but its a heckuva lot of fun to bounce on. I can't say that it's done much for my typing skills, though. It has also caused me to have a certain clip from The Office in mind.

In other news.... there's a lot of news in my life.
To cover some of the things I'm most excited about though:
I had 3 tests last week and two mid-term papers due yesterday. I'm not certain how I did on all of them yet, but they are all done. Hallelujah, they are all DONE. And that is what really matters.
I also am in the process of training to be a volunteer for one on one tutoring at Bridgerland Literacy. That means that within a couple of weeks I'll be working with either an illiterate or English as a second language adult, or a child who is behind in their reading level. I'm really excited for this opportunity! I love teaching and I LOVE reading, so this is just perfect.
AND, what I am most excited about is the "new pair of jeans" I've been trying out for the past month. So far, they seem to fit wonderfully. They're not too clingy, but they are very comfortable and make me feel pretty. More updates on these awesome, erm, "pants" to follow.

Educational Autobiography Part 2

In sixth grade I excitedly moved up to the middle school. One of the first teachers I met there turned out to be one of the most instrumental in my development as a person and my decision to teach. Her name was Mrs. Stephens and she taught sixth grade reading. Mrs. Stephens had a glow about her. To me she seemed like an angel. She was about the age of my grandparents, and relatively soft spoken- until you got her to read. She had so much energy when she was reading out loud. There was so much passion and emotion in her voice that I couldn't help but be carried away into other, amazing places. She set my imagination on fire. That year we took a reading assessment. I remember the pride on Mrs. Stephens' face as she told me that I had placed at a college reading level. I remember her telling me that I was a very talented and beautiful young lady. Through my time with Mrs. Stephens my spirits soured. I began to feel like maybe it was a good thing to love reading. I became convinced that being smart was not just desirable, it was cool. I decided that year that I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted so badly to do for others what Mrs. Stephens had done for me.

My Educational Autobiography

So right now I'm taking Introduction to Elementary Education. Love the class, love the prof. I was just assigned an 8-10 page paper for this class wherein I will be going over the experiences from my life that have brought me to the decision to become a teacher, focusing mainly on my experiences in my K-12 years. They want the good and the bad. So I've been jotting down pivotal experiences from my life and thought I'd share a few of them over the course of a couple posts.
One of my first memories of school, or really life in general, was in first grade. (That's me on the first day of first grade, on the left, with my friend Ashley) My teacher was an impatient woman, inclined to lose her temper with the students fairly easily. One day we had an early morning assembly right after school started around 8:15 or so. I filed into the auditorium and sat down on the ground like I was supposed to, putting my hands down to lean on. Right after I did so a boy who apparently enjoyed soccer in his spare time walked by and stepped square on my right thumb with his cleats! As soon as the pain hit me I remember the scream getting stuck in my throat before bursting out at my full 6 year old volume and then turning into sobs. My teacher came running over, glanced at my quickly bruising appendage and declared that I would be fine and to stop crying. So I bit my lip and toughed it out through the fitness assembly where we were supposed to be doing push ups of all things. When we went back to class my thumb was still throbbing, so I requested to call my mom so I could go home. Again, my teacher insisted that I would be fine. I went back to my desk and tried half heatedly to focus on the lessons, while also watching my thumb turn unnaturally dark. About an hour later I again asked to call my mom and with a sigh my teacher told me that I could go get a bag of ice from the office but REALLY, I would be fine. This continued on through all of our morning activities, lunchtime, and even afternoon recess. Every time I would plead to call my mom at her work so that she could fix my thumb and my teacher vehemently declared that there was nothing wrong with my thumb, even as it continued to swell and discolor. Finally, around 1:30 my teacher grudgingly grew a conscience and informed me that I could call my mom. My mom was positively furious. She had a jerk of a boss at the time who didn't want her to leave right after getting back from lunch, so she had to deal with that, only to find out that I'd been injured the entire day. After a trip to the doctor and a sucker, it was decided that my thumb either had a major sprain or a minor break and needed a splint. This is my only real memory from first grade and probably why I do not look back on that teacher fondly.
Looking back on this experience, however, has taught me to treat my students and future children with respect and compassion, and therefore is an important milestone in my life.

The art of giving thanks

So since I woke up late this morning by the time I got upstairs I couldn't figure out any way to effectively help with the cooking portion of Thanksgiving, but just when I was about to give up and go play with my one year old cousin until it was time to set the table, my mom called me over and for yet another year I was the designated gopher for last minute forgotten items. So with my mom's credit card in hand I made my way to Wal-Mart at about 11am on Thanksgiving morning. What I found there made me laugh. It was the single largest collection of lost-looking husbands you will ever find. Some had cell phones. Some had small children. All had a whole shopping cart that was almost empty, save for a few processed cookies and treats. Across the valley you could almost hear frazzled young wives releasing an audible sigh of relief as they watched their husbands and young children leave their house.
After a wonderful meal and cleanup we passed the time napping and flipping through all the ads trying to decide what to get for others and what to tell others to get for us. As I am dead beat broke this year, I will not be joining the masses of lemmings in their early morning quest for deals this year. I will be happily sleeping. I did give my mom a list of things I would like for Christmas, because otherwise she loses all grip on sanity at the prospect of trying to come up with stuff for her kids who really do already have just about everything. It has always been my job to try and come up with things which I want that I don't already have. Over the past five years or so this list has been growing considerably smaller and more practical. This year's big ticket items for me are a years supply of contacts, a heated blanket, and a digital camera to replace the one that ran away from me this summer. Boring? Heck ya. But I'm okay with that. To spice my list up a little I did ad in a few more fun items such as 17 Again and some Disney Princess movies. However, you can expect me to be happy as anything on Christmas morning being able to see my presents without glasses, curled up under a blanket that's already warm, and documenting the whole experience.

Bedding Trauma

I have this thing about other people using my bed, pillows or even just my blankets. I hate it. I have to wash them after someone else uses them. Everybody has their own smell, and unless I'm head over heels for you, I don't want your stank on my stuff. For the most part this isn't an issue, but then big family gatherings come along and there are only so many blankets in our house. I managed to talk my parents out of letting anyone sleep in my room, because when that happens the smells just won't quit, however I just noticed an extended family member sleeping all cuddled up to my comforter that I barely washed a few days ago. This does not please me. But, like the passive aggressive person that I am, I made sure to glare menacingly at the sleeping little sent theif before returning to the safety of my cucumber melon scented room.

The parallel of the pants

I apologize in advance for my scattered thought process. Just go with it.
So after I went to class today I spent several hours hanging out with my first (and if I'm going to be completely honest, the only) guy I've loved. We've both moved on now, but remain really close friends. Now he's going to be marrying a really sweet girl next summer and I'm glad he's found someone who makes him happy. Now he's always talking to me about how he wants me in his life forever and we'll always be friends and someday we'll take our families on camping trips together.
Here's the thing, and this surprises me probably more than anyone, I really and truly am happy for him, and I am getting used to hanging out with him and his girlfriend. It doesn't bother me to be around them anymore than it does to hang out with anyone else who is being mushy, which has always bothered me.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that sometimes things change more than we ever think is possible. If you would have told me even a year ago that I would be going and doing baptisms and just hanging out with him and the woman he wants to marry, I would have told you that I would sooner eat a whole packet of staples and wash it down with a gallon of lemon juice. It wasn't going to happen. And yet here I am perfectly happy after doing just that. I still care about him, but we just weren't supposed to end up together, and that's okay. There is someone out there who I am supposed to end up with. I know it. Right now, even though I don't think I've ever met him, I miss him. I will admit that I am lonely, of course I am. But I would much rather be lonely, than be going through the pain of trying to force something to fit that was never supposed to.
Here's where the pants come in. I think finding love can be compared to finding a perfect pair of pants. For some girls this is not hard at all. Some girls can walk into a store, and after eliminating all the ones that are the wrong size, or in other words just totally wrong for her, she can grab any style and it will work. Jolly good for her. Some girls just luck out and happen upon the perfect pair right after starting to shop. Cheers to them. Then there are us girls who spend a very long amount of time and ridiculous amounts of energy and resources trying to find a pair that are comfortable and make you feel good about yourself and that you just want to wear everyday. During this search it is very hard to talk yourself out of getting pants that almost fit. Maybe they're just a little snug around the waist. Maybe they're a little roomier than you'd prefer, but after all this shopping you just decide, screw it, the perfect ones don't exist, I'll just get these ones.
But you just can't ever be completely happy wearing these pants. They are not comfortable, and the longer you wear them, the more they dig into you, or refuse to flatter you. Pretty soon you begin to resent the pants. It's their fault they aren't what you want them to be! But it was never completely the pants fault. Ya, maybe if they were a little more flexible it would be easier, but you knew what they were when you bought them.
I don't want to settle for uncomfortable pants. Even though I'm lonely, and I would really love nothing more than to feel loved, it's just not worth it to me. So I will keep trying on pants, trying to find a pair that are everything I need, and maybe even several things I want.
And I will keep doing so until something changes. Because I know now that things can and will change.

I can feel it.

Dedicated to Shelayna

Shelayna wanted me to update my blog, so here I am. Not a clue what to type. I think seeing as it's Thanksgiving time I'll just jot down a few things that I'm thankful for, in no particular order.
-Family
-Indoor Plumbing
-Automatic can openers
-Smells that give you those little mini flashbacks
-The Gospel of Jesus Christ
-Libraries
-Bug spray
-DVR
-Being able to go to a University
-Shoes
-Wonderful friends
-Cherry Cordial Kisses

Continuing on the note of Cherry Cordial Kisses, these things are too amazing for words. To quote my friend, Steven, upon eating one yesterday, "I might be in trouble. This is too much pleasure outside of marriage."