I have never made so many Wal-Mart trips in my life.
So far, I have successfully finished one book and am almost done with a second.
Sonic Happy Hour has become a daily part of my life and I feel like I've just been reunited with an old friend everytime I sip an orange cream slush.
I just got my first paycheck and celebrated with a pedicure.
I made my first furniture purchase the other day. A big brown chair. On my hunt, I specifically shopped based on a chair's swallowage potential. I found this chair first. After six more stores, I came back to it.
I actually think it is magic. I've experienced many things just in the week I have had it in my possession. It gives one the ability to share their heart in an unedited away and makes time seem endless. I've been lured into it's safe arms for one of the world's best naps. And I've experienced healing and tears in the comfort of two blessings.
And this is only week 1.
I just returned from a day off and I'm leaving for two more tomorrow. Nope. Routine doesn't exist at this place.
I do believe this job is good preparation for motherhood. Despite my intense longings to be such a woman, I cringe at the thought of anything as such in my near future. I rest in the joy of being with these girls in their few remaining teenage years. It's like practice in reverse.
On nights like tonight where I hate missing the day to day in places I'd sometimes rather be, I find solice with my old friends Ben and Jerry and know that I am called here for a purpose.
But until I figure that out, I will continue to pick up that spoon
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Establishing Self
Seems like everyday reveals new limits. This isn't always a bad thing. I guess it is good to know such things about oneself.
People who know me probably find it no surprise that establishing myself as any kind of disciplinary figure is no easy task. How do you say, "I'm a nice person, but I mean business?"
In fact, "meaning business" is another task in itself. But its coming slowly but surely. I had to get on to a student the other day. She cried. I feel bad that I didnt feel bad. She didn't use common sense. Thats the thing. Here, you get one or the other: book sense or common sense...it rarely comes in the same package.
Next week I will be on my own as far as office and transportation duty goes...I'm having a struggle having confidence in myself that I can do this but I know I can...however, it seems like I'm constantly reminding myself that I am a grown up and I am old enough to take care of these girls and have the responsibilities that I do.
I experienced two intriguing events last week that have stuck with me. The first was during my first office shift. The office was swarming with kids who were just anxious to walk into downtown and get away of the obvious smotherings of a dorm. Not to mention it was day 2 of classes.
In walk three alumni. And by alumni, I mean students who graduated in May.*
The one leading the pack was this talk, lanky guy who I actually remember meeting when I came for an interview.
Although, the guy I remember meeting was not standing in front of me. No. This guy..I mean, adult,.. stood before me with his former shaggy hair in the beginning stages of dreads. And you know he felt way too cool to be there...he even left his sunglasses on to prove it. Don't get me wrong...seemed like a nice guy. But there is this certain air that surrounds him. One that says, "haha suckers, I'm outta here.
As the current senior, whom they're checking out, comes in the office, they grab him and throw him over their shoulders as any rambunctious group of rowdy teens would do. But I found myself in a state of fury when at 6:30 on the dot this current senior signs back in reaking of pot. And with that came the knowledge that I can't do anything about it. Because I didn't witness it.
I hate watching a kid pave a road for themself that will eventually dead in.
I want to share about the other event that gave me a small glimpse into why I love my job but alas, it will have to wait.
You see, today, I returned from my day off with my mattress topper. My much missed mattress topper. And yes, I have been sleeping but not resting. And the sleep just hasn't been good. But as I crawled into my mattress topper clad bed when I got off work at 7:00pm, I wanted to cry at the pure joy my heart felt. And with that, I slid into a small coma that was only interrupted by a phone call that one of my girls had had an allergic reaction.
You know, I've come to realize something. I have longed for routine.
Who knew that such a thing doesn't exist at such a place?
*While graduating this place does make them "alumni," I in no way want to incenuate they are these mature adults that have gone on from such a place and then returned years later to reminsce on their former educational institution.
People who know me probably find it no surprise that establishing myself as any kind of disciplinary figure is no easy task. How do you say, "I'm a nice person, but I mean business?"
In fact, "meaning business" is another task in itself. But its coming slowly but surely. I had to get on to a student the other day. She cried. I feel bad that I didnt feel bad. She didn't use common sense. Thats the thing. Here, you get one or the other: book sense or common sense...it rarely comes in the same package.
Next week I will be on my own as far as office and transportation duty goes...I'm having a struggle having confidence in myself that I can do this but I know I can...however, it seems like I'm constantly reminding myself that I am a grown up and I am old enough to take care of these girls and have the responsibilities that I do.
I experienced two intriguing events last week that have stuck with me. The first was during my first office shift. The office was swarming with kids who were just anxious to walk into downtown and get away of the obvious smotherings of a dorm. Not to mention it was day 2 of classes.
In walk three alumni. And by alumni, I mean students who graduated in May.*
The one leading the pack was this talk, lanky guy who I actually remember meeting when I came for an interview.
Although, the guy I remember meeting was not standing in front of me. No. This guy..I mean, adult,.. stood before me with his former shaggy hair in the beginning stages of dreads. And you know he felt way too cool to be there...he even left his sunglasses on to prove it. Don't get me wrong...seemed like a nice guy. But there is this certain air that surrounds him. One that says, "haha suckers, I'm outta here.
As the current senior, whom they're checking out, comes in the office, they grab him and throw him over their shoulders as any rambunctious group of rowdy teens would do. But I found myself in a state of fury when at 6:30 on the dot this current senior signs back in reaking of pot. And with that came the knowledge that I can't do anything about it. Because I didn't witness it.
I hate watching a kid pave a road for themself that will eventually dead in.
I want to share about the other event that gave me a small glimpse into why I love my job but alas, it will have to wait.
You see, today, I returned from my day off with my mattress topper. My much missed mattress topper. And yes, I have been sleeping but not resting. And the sleep just hasn't been good. But as I crawled into my mattress topper clad bed when I got off work at 7:00pm, I wanted to cry at the pure joy my heart felt. And with that, I slid into a small coma that was only interrupted by a phone call that one of my girls had had an allergic reaction.
You know, I've come to realize something. I have longed for routine.
Who knew that such a thing doesn't exist at such a place?
*While graduating this place does make them "alumni," I in no way want to incenuate they are these mature adults that have gone on from such a place and then returned years later to reminsce on their former educational institution.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I'm too young for an Identity Crisis
Yet that seems to be whats going on here.
For my entire life, I have found identity in one. simple .word.
Student.
Applications. Surveys. Resumes. All questions could be answered (or avoided) by writing those 7 letters that spell a word that holds so much weight.
I didn't even know I allowed it to identify me so.
But now I find myself no longer a student. No longer bound to that 7 letter word. Yet most of my being screams to release all rights to the freedom I have now to be identified any way i want and run back into the confines of that one descriptive word.
isnt it weird how we're like that? we long for one thing only to get that thing and then want to turn back.
letting go. not something im good at.
this whole idea of identity is just baffling in the work force. this isn't your typical nine to five. Who am I to these students I live with and coworkers I interact with?
One time, I found my identity in the ideals people had built up about me. It took a painful look in the mirror to say, "No, actually, I'm not."
Then there was this other time when people perceived me one way and I wanted a mega phone to shout "YOU AREN'T LOOKING CLOSE ENOUGH."
In the work place, or at least in this work place you have little staff meetings that give you little self evaluations to establish things like how one deals with conflict or what leadership style one has.
Well let me tell you something. Those are wrong. At least mine were. Well, some were true. But let me give you an example.
In a self eval about how I deal with conflict, all my answers (to vague and wide spread questions, mind you) gave me a grand total of avoidance. Me? An avoider? of conflict? perhaps in the way of steering clear of things that would create conflict ie drama, youre not welcome. deuces. but when conflict rises i don't think i avoid. I don't blow up and fix it right away but I dont avoid.
And then, apparently my leadership style is an S. Strengths to an S-leadership type include risk taking, socially skilled and inspiring. Ok. Ish.
But my weaknesses? Overbearing. Intimidating. Pushy. Oh and this one got me. Manipulative.
manipulative? am i really?
suffice to say i think they're inaccurate and that those things are not part of my identity. but let's be honest, do I even know how to identify myself at this point in life? Let me give it a whirl:
confused yet slowly understanding
overwhelmed yet hopeful
inadequate yet somehow adequate
For my entire life, I have found identity in one. simple .word.
Student.
Applications. Surveys. Resumes. All questions could be answered (or avoided) by writing those 7 letters that spell a word that holds so much weight.
I didn't even know I allowed it to identify me so.
But now I find myself no longer a student. No longer bound to that 7 letter word. Yet most of my being screams to release all rights to the freedom I have now to be identified any way i want and run back into the confines of that one descriptive word.
isnt it weird how we're like that? we long for one thing only to get that thing and then want to turn back.
letting go. not something im good at.
this whole idea of identity is just baffling in the work force. this isn't your typical nine to five. Who am I to these students I live with and coworkers I interact with?
One time, I found my identity in the ideals people had built up about me. It took a painful look in the mirror to say, "No, actually, I'm not."
Then there was this other time when people perceived me one way and I wanted a mega phone to shout "YOU AREN'T LOOKING CLOSE ENOUGH."
In the work place, or at least in this work place you have little staff meetings that give you little self evaluations to establish things like how one deals with conflict or what leadership style one has.
Well let me tell you something. Those are wrong. At least mine were. Well, some were true. But let me give you an example.
In a self eval about how I deal with conflict, all my answers (to vague and wide spread questions, mind you) gave me a grand total of avoidance. Me? An avoider? of conflict? perhaps in the way of steering clear of things that would create conflict ie drama, youre not welcome. deuces. but when conflict rises i don't think i avoid. I don't blow up and fix it right away but I dont avoid.
And then, apparently my leadership style is an S. Strengths to an S-leadership type include risk taking, socially skilled and inspiring. Ok. Ish.
But my weaknesses? Overbearing. Intimidating. Pushy. Oh and this one got me. Manipulative.
manipulative? am i really?
suffice to say i think they're inaccurate and that those things are not part of my identity. but let's be honest, do I even know how to identify myself at this point in life? Let me give it a whirl:
confused yet slowly understanding
overwhelmed yet hopeful
inadequate yet somehow adequate
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Being a Grown Up
i feel like we are trained as children to anticipate adulthood. i mean, thats what everything is working toward, right? you go to kindergarten just to make it to first grade which will eventually take you to high school. Only after we get that much needed high school diploma do we accept the reality that the world says we need a college degree. Boom, 4 more years in school, if not more. And what is all the schooling for? a job. a career. a source of income.
some people declare one an adult at age 18. you can vote. watch R rated movies. buy cigerettes. i mean, yes, by all means, declare adulthood. but youre not really really an adult until 21. when people take you more serious. and you can legally drink. which apparently is only suitable for the "adults". but what do you know...there are still things you have to be 25 or older to do. like rent a car. but even to someone who is 45, a 22 year old fresh out of college might not resemble this thing we call an adult, this figure who is responsible enough to live alone and have a household. did you know that in some African villages a boy is deemed responsible enough to be head of a household after he has experienced his first wet dream? i mean, hello world, what is it with giving out responsbility like its beads on mardi gras!
everything in life seems to look only to the next thing. the next step to being older or greater or more adult.
well let me tell you. i'm not a fan. i'm not a fan of this big ideal of adulthood ive been apparently working toward since i was 5.
here i find myself. 22. a recent college graduate. with a degree im passionate about but guess what, i need MORE schooling to do anything in that field. and i currently have 18 girls in my care. 18 high school juniors and seniors who have left their home high schools to enter a more rigorous high school setting to better themselves. and when theyre not in class, they are in my care.
at what point did i become responsible or grown up enough that the social well being of young, moldable minds would be trusted into my care between the hours of 3pm and 8am?
Scary. Thats what this is.
But then, you get small glimmers of what this COULD look like. The students who want to learn from the life i have lived. who will have hard times but will accept comfort amidst the rocky road that is boarding school. because i know that rocky road well. i travelled down it. 6 years ago.
This is a weird time. The last four years of my life have been about me. lets just be honest. i went to the college I chose. Majored in something I loved. Made the friends I liked. And did the things I chose to do. The decisions I made affected me.*
Did you get the memo? This year is not about me.
It's funny; I didn't get that memo until the middle of summer. This year is about serving these girls. Loving these girls. Because they need it. If along the way I find some sparknotes that fill me in on how to be an adult, i will share. And if along the way, I find some parts of myself that have been hiding for a while or that I didn't know existed, I will share those to.
I don't know so many things. But I DO know that my God is bigger than the things I can't see. And the things I think I have figured out...because usually, I'm wrong.
*now let me clear something up. in an about me section on a friends facebook page, they wrote: it's not. May i declare now that is truly the cry of my heart. this life isnt about me. but in acceptance of my desires, i know me better than you do. and know that i have a tendency to make things about me, no matter how far from the truth i want that to be.
some people declare one an adult at age 18. you can vote. watch R rated movies. buy cigerettes. i mean, yes, by all means, declare adulthood. but youre not really really an adult until 21. when people take you more serious. and you can legally drink. which apparently is only suitable for the "adults". but what do you know...there are still things you have to be 25 or older to do. like rent a car. but even to someone who is 45, a 22 year old fresh out of college might not resemble this thing we call an adult, this figure who is responsible enough to live alone and have a household. did you know that in some African villages a boy is deemed responsible enough to be head of a household after he has experienced his first wet dream? i mean, hello world, what is it with giving out responsbility like its beads on mardi gras!
everything in life seems to look only to the next thing. the next step to being older or greater or more adult.
well let me tell you. i'm not a fan. i'm not a fan of this big ideal of adulthood ive been apparently working toward since i was 5.
here i find myself. 22. a recent college graduate. with a degree im passionate about but guess what, i need MORE schooling to do anything in that field. and i currently have 18 girls in my care. 18 high school juniors and seniors who have left their home high schools to enter a more rigorous high school setting to better themselves. and when theyre not in class, they are in my care.
at what point did i become responsible or grown up enough that the social well being of young, moldable minds would be trusted into my care between the hours of 3pm and 8am?
Scary. Thats what this is.
But then, you get small glimmers of what this COULD look like. The students who want to learn from the life i have lived. who will have hard times but will accept comfort amidst the rocky road that is boarding school. because i know that rocky road well. i travelled down it. 6 years ago.
This is a weird time. The last four years of my life have been about me. lets just be honest. i went to the college I chose. Majored in something I loved. Made the friends I liked. And did the things I chose to do. The decisions I made affected me.*
Did you get the memo? This year is not about me.
It's funny; I didn't get that memo until the middle of summer. This year is about serving these girls. Loving these girls. Because they need it. If along the way I find some sparknotes that fill me in on how to be an adult, i will share. And if along the way, I find some parts of myself that have been hiding for a while or that I didn't know existed, I will share those to.
I don't know so many things. But I DO know that my God is bigger than the things I can't see. And the things I think I have figured out...because usually, I'm wrong.
*now let me clear something up. in an about me section on a friends facebook page, they wrote: it's not. May i declare now that is truly the cry of my heart. this life isnt about me. but in acceptance of my desires, i know me better than you do. and know that i have a tendency to make things about me, no matter how far from the truth i want that to be.
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