Thursday, December 20, 2012

"I Am NOT Adam Lanza's Daughter"

When I first read "I Am Adam Lanza's Mother," I was encouraged by the "strength" of the author who was willing to bear her terrors in raising an emotionally-unstable son. Then I saw this...Disability and Representation... and now am annoyed that I fell into this sensationalism.

I think when I read the first article, I was immediately connecting "Michael" to my dad who was brain-injured when I was a baby and, while his normal mood was kind and loving and generous, he could often "act out" and become threatening. When I was in high school, he waved a gun at my mom and older sister while I was at school, and I slept with a butcher knife under my bed for the next year...just in case.

But I am not "Adam Lanza's daughter."

Anyone who knows my dad would know he's probably the most generous person you'll meet. Growing up, it wasn't uncommon for him to go out to Pizza Hut with my volleyball team after a game and pay for all 20+ people. That was his true heart. So, when he would throw an occasional tantrum, that tantrum DID NOT DEFINE HIM. His generosity and unfailing love for God, me, my sister, and my mom were his true definitions.

I'm not saying any of that to get any special props or sentiment, but to show that I KNOW the fear related to mental disabilities. I've lived that fear and battle with it almost every day. One of my biggest fears is to have a child that is emotionally or mentally disabled. I am terrified of that.

And YET I think it's ridiculous that the first article compared a son with Asperger's to a SCHOOL SHOOTER. The second article was a good dose of reality, showing that mentally-disabled people are STILL PEOPLE. My dad may have had limited moments of anger, but I would never put him in the same category of Adam Lanza. To compare ALL disabled people to school shooters, bombers, etc., is irrational and greatly harmful.

After every national tragedy, people want to know what caused it. Followed by, "How can we prevent it?" We want blame. We want accountability. I want those things, too, but at what cost to our humanity? Are we now going to further stigmatize the disabled? As if there isn't enough fear already. I'm talking to myself here, too, because this fear is real and comes from legitimate sources. We should have options for the welfare of the disabled and their families, but not at the personal cost of the very people we're trying to help. Don't compare the disabled to school shooters...otherwise you'd have to compare EVERY person to a school shooter.

There is evil in every single person's heart. There is potential for heinous acts of cruelty in every single person's heart. It is a choice every single person makes every single day whether or not to act on that inner evil. To lump a group of people as a larger threat than others is irresponsible. Sure, watch out for the disabled. Love them. Care for them. But don't label them as Adam Lanza.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Joy in Fear

There isn't much I can add about the Connecticut shooting. Like with 9/11, I can't quite believe it happened. I see the news clips, the distraught faces, grieving families...but none of it clicks. Maybe I'm just not surprised...I've often marveled that there aren't MORE public acts of violence with how crazy this world is. Not that anything should take away from the tragedy that happened, but there's SO much hate that I witness not just from others, but from within myself. If I have to be completely honest, I've enjoyed the hurt of others...while it's not to the point of actively harming innocent people, there is that seed of potential in me and I've often been startled when I start digging around and find it lurking in deeper soil.

Everyone wants an answer for this tragedy: Why did Adam Lanza do it? What was his mother like and did she lead to his instability? How can we limit access to guns? Did video games inspire Lanza's attack? In the gym this morning, the only topics on Newtown related to gun control. There were a few clips of the children, but the 2nd amendment seemed to prove more news-worthy.

I DO think we need to respond in a practical way, reevaluating current systems of gun ownership, parenting, etc. A close family friend, though, believes that whenever national crises happen, the general response is misdirected and that it doesn't recognize the deeper problem of wanting to control our surroundings.

No matter what happens in this world, I don't want to live in fear. Even if I knew that I would live to the ripe old age of 100 with no health problems or financial burdens, I would still be afraid...because there would STILL be things out of my control. I can't control car accidents or the hurt that I see in others. As much as I want to, I can't control students or reason with someone who doesn't want to change. Ryan and I have talked more about moving within the next year. I LOVE the thought of living somewhere completely foreign to me for a couple years, but am scared of having children in a third-world country. Seeing how hard it is to keep the toddlers out of the sink in nursery at church, I don't know how I could keep them out of it 24/7.

But I don't want that fear to keep me from loving life and enJOYing it. I once asked Ryan if he would rather live until 70 and never leave Indiana, or live only until 50 but see the world. Now that I know him better, the answer of "50 and see the world" shouldn't surprise me, but at the time it did. I've been trained to think that a long, healthy life is just naturally better than a short one. The more I witness fear, though, the more I disagree. Sure, I'd choose to live longer, but I don't want to let the FEAR of living a shorter amount of time keep me from joy.

Bah, easier said than done. I'll always be afraid of things that might be...or not be. I want to fight it, though, and see life as a river, not a raindrop.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

The times be a-changing

I'm always telling my students to write more on their own to improve themselves and always chide myself because I know I'm not going to take the same advice. I journal every few days...or once a week...but it's not like I used to journal when I felt like every thought or action I had was of universal importance.

"Today I bought the school lunch instead because I forgot to bring my own."

Mmmm....groundbreaking stuff.

I have PILES of journals dating back to 6th grade when I was reading California Diaries, the spin-off of Baby-Sitters Club, and realized the immediate importance of documenting the dramas of my life. Reading through some of them, they amaze me at how...young...I was. I thought I was so FUNNY. Stuff like, "insert name couldn't get anymore annoying...NOT." More groundbreaking prose.

So, it makes me wonder what I'll think of myself looking back another 15-some years down the road. It's so weird to think of being 40, probably as weird as it was in 6th grade to think of being 26. I also wonder what future generations will think when they look back on mine. What will some of the huge hot-button issues today look like to them? Probably what the Civil Rights movement looks like to me. They'll look at issues like legalizing marijuana and go, "Really? Why was that such a big deal?" But, because I'm living in the middle of the controversy, I'll respond like any good older generation with, "You weren't there, so you just don't get it." And I won't get why THEY don't get it because it seems so obvious to me.

What other issues will look silly to those nameless, faceless future punks and hoodlums who can't respect the better generations before them? I'd like to imagine there will be some huge health movement where all soda is no longer produced and in classrooms, bored students in some history class will vaguely wonder, "Who in their right minds would even drink that stuff?" and then go back to staring at the wall until their lunch of carrots and organic Acai juice.

Bigger question yet: what will become acceptable (or even good) that is so obviously wrong to us now? I personally think (I won't win any debates with this, just thoughts) that, ethically, people will become less and less concerned with the idea of killing older fetuses. According to this article (look at my citing skills paying off!), http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/health-19815095, one woman is trying to lower the abortion limit from 24 to 20 weeks in the U.K., meaning that right now a legal abortion takes places up to SIX MONTHS. I'm not going to go into much here because, honestly, I don't know exactly where I stand with abortions, but six months seems like it shouldn't even be in question whether or not that baby is alive. So, legally, we're allowing that up to 6 months. I just feel like that age could continue to climb higher. I don't even know what that would look like, but I read an article....http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/she-the-people/post/after-birth-abortion-can-they-be-serious/2012/03/03/gIQADgiOsR_blog.html     that shows this idea has at least been introduced and considered. In short, it will be interesting and scary to see how things continue to play out.

I must be getting older, because I'm starting to think that the way I grew up was "in better times." In class we were discussing a chapter where the author suggested buying a Dictionary to look up how to spell words and one student rightfully asked, "Why when I have a phone?" I looked at the copyright and the first edition was 1993, so most likely this was just a dated tip. However, even though you can look up almost any dictionary on a phone, there's something that claws inside me, wanting to rip the phone away and say, "No! Use a book, you dummy!" But why? Because that's the way that I learned it!

The times be a-changing.

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Moving

Whenever I mention moving and any fears I have about it, most people say something like, "Well, you've traveled so much, it should be no problem for you!" This is somewhat true - I would definitely enjoy different scenery and local food and shifted perspectives, but I also have this crazy dramatic nostalgia that makes it difficult to leave anything behind.

My car, for example, is my best inanimate friend...second only to my bike...and my pillow (which has been referred to as 'a sack of dead squirrels'...apparently, I like pillows to be lumpy). I got it two weeks after I began at Taylor...so, Fall 2004. The keys to it were keys to the universe...I'd gone without a car for 8 months, which really isn't that long, but at 18, it was borderline tragic. Having to *gasp* walk and ride my bike everywhere mom couldn't drive me and feeling bad bumming rides off everyone...anyway, it made me love my car and the thought of a new car is fun, but not worth it at the expense of losing Violet, my brawny Saturn.

Likewise, I love the thought of a new place to call home...and that thought might be reality in 12-18 months. After talking with a supervisor at work, Ryan could be able to transfer to another Michelin plant in that time - there's nothing set yet...no where or what or when, but our top picks are North or South Carolina. I've only been in that area once, last December, but I don't see why either wouldn't be a fine state to try. It's warmer, close to a coast, and it's just DIFFERENT.

But I DO like my life here and LOVE my friends/family nearby. Sure, we'd make more friends we never would have otherwise, but there's always a silly thought of "what if EVERYONE in North/South Carolina sucks? What if we get there are are, like *Gob Bluth voice inserted* I've made a huge mistake'?" Ryan pointed out that we could ask that question anywhere we move and it's really not worth missing out on something amazing just because something bad MIGHT happen. It's kind of funny, really, how I feel like I'm the more random one between me and Ryan, yet the most hesitant.

Ah, but I do love the thought of moving. I know my life here, but I don't know it somewhere 9 1/2 hours away. We could easily settle down here in Fort Wayne, buy a house, start having kids, trust in the stability of Ryan's job, and never face a real urgency to ever leave. We could shop at the same stores for the next 7-8 decades (hey, I'm optimistic), I could teach the same classes, and use the same bank...but I already know, in general, what that life looks like. And it's not BAD - it's just too understood. I already know I don't trust God in change and what better way to FORCE myself to trust than by pushing myself out of the only city I've called home?

Diary quote time: "Why do I want to jumble up the convenience and ease we have going on here? Because if I don't jumble myself, I won't go. I'll stagnate and become bitter. I know these streets too well. I have the buildings outlined in my head...in many ways, the saying "the grass is greener on the other side" is misleading because what if you want the other side, but are still debating your current side's green-ness?"

Isn't it funny that generations before us fought so hard and shed so much sweat and blood so that we could have endless opportunities, yet it's those very opportunities that cause us so much anxiety? "Waaaa, I have too many choices." Pretty sure every oppressed generation of women (and men) would punch me in the face. If they did it at the same time, maybe it would smack some sense into me. What if everyone just moves with us wherever we go? You in?


Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Zombie Dreams

Just watched "Cabin in the Woods" last night and I had a night filled with zombie-killing dreams, mostly with people being eaten or brutally killed.

For the movie, have to say, not impressed like I thought I would be. I wanted to be impressed and was at some parts, but wow...won't ruin the movie for those who actually want to see it, but I'd say it's worth watching just for the end. Ridiculous. And sometimes ridiculous is worth it. Although, I recommend fast-fowarding the blood and guts scenes. Not a fan. It sincerely bothers me that torturing people is entertainment. I get it - it's fiction, it's not real, it's "just for fun." But shouldn't we ask ourselves why our brains find it fun? While we're not watching real torture, isn't the enjoyment of it the same? A student of mine said he loved the Saw movies and I just mentioned how I hate torture for entertainment. He said, "Oh, I love it." Part of me gets it - seeing characters acting out horrible situations where you go, "Oh, man, no way that just happened!" but when you really think about it, people really do LOVE watching others suffer

With that said, I think we forget the power of "mindless" entertainment. It's all "for fun" or "just a joke," but there are definite reactions in our lives whether we admit it or not. I used to say that what I watched didn't affect me. I mean, I'm not going to go out to some cabin in the woods and butcher up a group of teenage college students by impaling them with knives and bear traps connected to ropes. But if I'm honest with myself, it makes me devalue human life. And enjoy suffering.

I was watching a news clip of some woman from a baptist church in some southern state who, with her entire church of about 100 members, taunted family members at the funerals of their sons who died in Afghanistan or Iraq. They were soldiers who fought for our country...but were also gay. So this woman and her church thought it was honoring God to stand with signs that read, "God hates you" and "Thank God for dead soldiers" to get across their hateful belief that God hates gay people. How does this connect to Cabin in the Woods? Because, listening to that woman talk on the news, she ENJOYED human suffering. She wasn't cackling as they were stabbed to death, but in a way, wasn't it about the same? She smiled and laughed as the news anchor literally asked, "What is wrong with you? You should be ashamed", and ranted about "why won't you just obey the Lord your God? Repent, dummies." She ignored the obvious fact that she was enjoying and bringing about suffering to grieving family and friends. Instead of responding to that point made by the anchor, she kept ranting about why God hates them...as if she is the authority on God.

So I see a connection in the simple fact of suffering producing pleasure. We don't value other humans - which ironically the movie actually seemed to point out, while following the same "cut 'em, slice 'em" type of filmmaking. So, no, watching these movies doesn't make me want to go out and torture people, but they DO create an apathy or, even worse, enjoyment of watching suffering.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Calling All X-File Fans!!!!

While I wait for pumpkin bread to bake and chili to cook (our apartment smells delicious, by the way), I figured I'd use this time wisely and correct the monstrosity that was X-Files: I Want to Believe. For those who don't know, The X-Files was the best show ever made. Never mind that rewatching episodes makes me giggle a little bit at HOW obsessed I was, but seriously, it's still the best. And never mind that Scully was actually super annoying and overly-skeptical. As a scientist, don't you think she'd notice the statistics of how Mulder was right 100% of the time every time of every moment in time?

Now that I've emphasized the greatness of the show, let me also say how I don't include anything after Season 7 in the true story of The X-Files. For one, Mulder was barely in the show after Season 7 and the last movie, as I've stated, was as if they took the bold epic heroism of Mulder and Scully, skinned them, put them on some lame marionette puppets and then had them sit in a sterile hospital waiting room for two hours. Something like that. It was just laziness. For instance, Scully decides to basically invent a cancer surgery for some patient (I didn't bother to remember the details) and where does she begin her research? GOOGLE. Really, Scully? Or should I say, really Chris Carter? GOOGLE?! You don't have to be a comp. teacher to know that if she was back at med school she'd be thrown out before the second O was typed.

Ok ok ok. I could rant more, but on to my point: I decided to fix this dilemma since I believe the greatness of The X-Files former glory can still be resurrected with some gentle prodding and actually awesome plot. Granted, I won't act like I'm about to create the best story ever. I'm just going to prove that in an hour, I can make up a MUCH better movie than that last one. There will be plot holes and stereotyped storytelling all over the place, but again, this is just to prove that an amateur blogger can make a more thrilling story that actually extends the story of Mulder and Scully instead of having them hiding out in some cabin in the woods for six years (as if Mulder would stay in the shadows for that long. Come on, people).

So, first, we'd start from the end of Season 9 (for the sake of time, I'll just act like the last two seasons were part of the true X-Files story). So, Mulder and Scully are finally reunited and fleeing to Mexico because the government is actually going to kill Mulder. They know that this epic alien attack is going to take place in 2012 (so why wouldn't the next movie BE ABOUT THE ALIEN ATTACK????). They're laying in a hotel room, like in the first episode, speculating on this attack. So that's where the series left off and here's where my correction of the next movie begins:

So Mulder and Scully wake up the next morning, realizing they'd had this CRAZY dream where they were in a crappy cabin six years in the future, realizing they were super lame, and decided to go back in time. Therefore, the problem of the second movie is erased. They wake up and spend the next six years solving paranormal cases in Mexico, on the sly of course, and finding allies along the way (Spanish Lone Gunmen, anyone????). Their Hispanic friends help them out, telling them about various crazy events, children turning into pinatas and, I don't know, tacos having the exact shape of Mexican leaders? Whatever, it doesn't matter because all of this will just be a brief snippet at the beginning of the movie to show the audience how awesome Mulder and Scully continued to be after the last night in that hotel and DIDN'T turn lame, hiding out for 6 years while Scully somehow worked in a hospital where no one knew that (duh) Mulder would be living in the EXACT SAME PLACE as she did, and Scully DIDN'T turn into a boring anti-investigator, telling Mulder "No, don't solve crimes. Let's just live quietly and not do anything ever."

So back to my story: after this montage of them solving cases in Mexico for the next six years, they continue to wait for the epic alien attack of 2012. Now, they don't know the official day, of course, so are just preparing for anytime that year. With the help of their Hispanic friends, they form a counterattack that they won't reveal until the end of the movie (I haven't thought of it yet...). So, one lovely summer day in some village on the coast of Ecuador, local fishermen notice abnormally large waves rolling under their boats. Speaking in Spanish (X-Files was great with subtitles instead of pretending everyone around the world speaks English), the fishermen are like, "What's that? What's going on?" and then BAM, lights and noises and chaos erupt. The boats are engulfed in a massive water storm of chaos. The audience has no idea what's going on, but you hear broken Spanish of "What IS that?" and "Hold on!" I don't know. Just regular sci-fi reactions to crazy crap.

The screen pans back to Mulder and Scully, three days later, riding in the back of a pick-up truck with sunglasses. The truck stops at a gas station where they hear frantic women talk next to them at the pump. Mulder awesomely jumps over the rail of the truck bed, asking the women what the problem is. He's, of course, fluent in Spanish now. They tell him about the Ecuador fiasco, leading him to walk into the gas station, seeing a news clip (also subtitled) of a reporter, trying to look unafraid, telling about the odd events in the fishing village. Knowing what's going on, Mulder runs out of the shop, yelling at Scully to contact the others. She whips out a sweet cellphone and calls up their Spanish Lone Gunmen.

Blah Blah Blah, they spend the next half hour figuring out how to connect the dots between ever-increasing attacks across the globe (the Ecuador event was just the beginning...ooooooo). They figure out, after this half-hour of intense investigation, that the aliens are attacking small villages first to avoid immediate reaction from the humans. They've also seen Independence Day where the aliens made the mistake of attacking large cities first. So, not only are they attacking small villages, but they're attacking small coastal villages. And not only are they attacking small coastal villages, but they're attacking small coastal villages in an elaborate, but identifiable zigzag pattern that Mulder has elaborately marked with push pins on a map in he and Scully's straw hut.

So now they know the next location of the aliens attack: Playa Gaviota, Argentina (I used Scully's model of scholarship and Googled "Argentina", zooming in on small villages). "But we don't even know exactly who or what we're fighting with," Scully rightly protests.

"We never have before," Mulder responds with a devilish grin that makes the audience grin because now they're thinking about the TV series and how they're also in on the fairly lame connection to Mulder and Scully's FBI past.

Scully and Mulder then hitch a ride down to Argentina, along with their new Lone Gunmen, and whatever secret plan we don't know about yet (seriously, I don't know it). When they get there, they have no idea how long until the attack or what they'll be looking at. From what they learned from TV reports, these "phenomena" happen on the water, so they warn everyone to avoid the shore (no one listens, except a darling little girl of about six who convinces her family to move farther inland. Will she come into play later on? I really don't know...).

Around three the next morning, Mulder awakes to a light trembling (he and Scully and their Lone Gunmen are sleeping in a hotel about a mile from the shore). Mulder wakes the others up and they all run outside to a brilliantly lit sky of rainbow colors, flashing and roaring. Amazed, they listen to the screams of those who didn't flee from the water's edge and run towards the sounds. The first person they find on the streets is an elderly man, clawing at his face, but nothing is on him. Another woman runs from behind him, clawing at the ground, scratching and screaming. Whatever, it's weird. Looking up, Scully yells that there's some kind of fog creeping from the bright-colored sky. Actually, the colors themselves are a fog, spreading toward them.

This is bad, obviously. So they all start to run and the fog of colors is nipping at their heels. They're not going to make it!!!!!!

But they make it and try to figure out what they just saw. Scully somehow deduces that the fog is emitted from rays that blah blah, science, blah. So they have to destroy the fog maker. Fortunately, their secret plan just might work. What is their secret plan? Crap......

Ok, so during the six years that Mulder and Scully roamed South America, they found a chemical in a pit, like, two miles below the earth. One of their contacts told them about this pit and that there was a foreign...something...that was never supposed to be uncovered. When they asked why it wasn't supposed to be found, they were told, "Because they know (they obviously meaning aliens) it will destroy them". So, whatever, they have this thing that can destroy them. We'll call it Netrablium. This sucks, I admit, but again, this is still better than the last movie, so go with it. No one knows how it will destroy the aliens, but they figure it out.

After they escape the fog, they continue to hear a distant buzzing, like bumblebees (a nice tribute to the first movie, I dare say). They follow the buzzing (why wouldn't they?) and see tubes creeping back into the water. The fog's now lifted and they follow the tubes. Mulder grabs the vial of Netrablium and, against Scully's logical warnings, he dives into the water and grabs one of the tubes. The tube pulls him almost a mile out into the sea until it jerks him under (don't worry, he gets a crazy big gulp of air that will last him an absurdly long time). With eyes open and magically unstung by the salt, he sees he's being pulled into a type of submarine, but more alien-looking. He's pulled under the sub and the camera zooms out to show just HOW alien-looking this thing is. Back on Mulder, we see him letting go of the tub and feeling his way around the equipment. Soon he finds a hatch and squeezes in side, taking as silent a gasp for air as he can.

So he's inside the underwater spaceship and prowls around. Blah blah, he finds the central area, throws the Netrablium in it, and the whole thing starts spazzing out. Aliens are shrieking and don't seem to have a backup plan for this sort of thing, so Mulder's the only one who gets out before the whole thing explodes or melts or whatever. He swims back to shore, gasping on the sand (he barely escaped the sub, so he's rightfully exhausted).

Mulder and Scully hug. It's emotional. The camera pans out and upward, and we see the sub dissolving into the water, knowing once again, our planetary health is due to our beloved agents.

BUT we have to have some hint that there will be another movie, so after the credits, we see some mystery person reading a newspaper with a headline like "Coastal Catastrophes out to Sea" or some lame pun implying there are no more alien disasters. The newspaper comes down and we see....THE SMOKING MAN...and he turns to a shadowy figure looming in the corner. He says, "We're going to have some explaining to do." The shadowy figure slowly walks into the light and we see....SKINNER. He says, "Yes. Yes, sir, we sure are."

So, again, not the best story ever, but I would gladly pay $9.25 to see this sucker opening night. So please, from the bottom of my heart, someone make this happen.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Oh, the Places We'll Go! Part 2

I'll sum up the rest of our trip this July....the next two days in Ireland, we went to Glendalough, a sweet hiking area in the Wicklow Mountains, and to County Cork where we kissed the Blarney Stone. Turns out the stone isn't actually for luck, but for the gift of eloquence/persuasion. Who knew? After gaining our rightful gift, we flew to Edinburgh from Cork on Ryan Air (of course, we got a picture of Ryan in front of the plane...and if you look carefully, he might look a little bulgy...that's because he's got on four shirts and a fleece to keep his backpack under regulation size).

It was getting dark when we got off the bus from the Edinburgh airport. Dark, cold and rainy. But how much better did that make it when we found our hostel? Not just any hostel, but a CATHEDRAL. For serious. It was a small cathedral renovated into a hostel. Like, they turned the sanctuary into two makeshift hallways with separate rooms. We were only in the hostel to sleep the next two nights, but it was still glorious. Our room's "roof" had a window at the top so we could see the stained glass sanctuary windows. A window through a window.

The next day we left crazy early to take a bus up to Loch Ness...we got there around noon and walked by the water, mostly just touring Inverness, a city along the lake. And did we find ol' Nessie? You better believe it. Turns out she turns herself into a bunch of swans and we got a picture of her transformation. She's quite the trickster. We spent part of the afternoon sitting by the lake, talking about where we saw ourselves in five years...turns out we don't know the future. Lame.

Around 6 we took the bus back to Edinburgh. It was a lot of driving for one day, but like the trains in Ireland, the scenery was well worth it. The next morning we got up at 4 AM. What? And somehow I was totally ok with that. We took an early train to Sheffield, England, where we met up with MARIEEEEEEE. She was getting her Masters there and we crashed in her flat. That day we walked around Sheffield and took a bus to the Peak District where we ate at a pub (Marie and I got a roast that was...freaking...delicious).

The next day we went into London after ANOTHER early morning (5 if I remember). Our first stop was Kings Cross to pose by the trolley outside the Hogwarts Express. Actually, the trolley isn't even between platforms 9 and 10. Super lame. It's just thrown by some random wall in the station. Guess most tourists don't want to pay to actually get into the station.

The next stop, after dropping our bags off somewhere, was St. Paul's. I'd been there before, but had never climbed up the the Whispering Gallery...a mere thousand steps up to the top of the dome where you get a crazy view of London. Back at the bottom, my leg would twitch when I leaned forward in just the right way. I thought it was the coolest thing ever, but Marie and Ryan didn't seemed impressed. Also at the bottom I paid to light a candle with a prayer for mom who just found out about her breast cancer, which I don't think I'd done before, but it really felt more sacred to pray that way.

We then went to see the Changing of the Guards at Buckingham where uniformed people yell at you to keep moving...keep moving...keep the sidewalk clear...come on, people, don't block the way.

And then it was Westminster Abbey. Another place I'd seen, but not fully. Before, I'd seen the outside, but the audio tour was well worth it. We struggled to find Marie after that, but eventually saw her flailing around Big Ben. After THAT we went to The British Museum to see The Rosetta Stone and surprising amounts of Egyptian stuff. There was also a Horse Exhibit with old arrow heads from 8,000 BC. Crazy. I don't know how to handle looking at stuff that old.

Before we left the museum, I messed with my camera to see if it was working again (I brilliantly washed it at Marie's, forgetting it was in one of my pockets). It was splotchy and blurry, but it worked! And throughout the trip, it eventually cleared up more.

Sadly, this was the time when we had to part with Marie. We said our farewells at the tube station. It was awful. I just didn't really think before then how SHORT it would be with her. She left for her train back to Sheffield and Ryan and I made it just in time to see The Mousetrap at St. Martin's Theatre.

We grabbed our bags after the show and took the tube to our hostel. It was around midnight by that point and it was so great to finally get to Hostel #8 and feel like we were coming to a home of sorts. We were cheap when we booked stuff, so stayed in a 21-person room...basically just rows of bunk beds and lockers. But for $10 a night, who cares?

London was still on our list the next day. We made it to The Globe and spent hours at The Tower of London and Tower Bridge. We saw the Crown Jewels and this is just amazing...to keep tourists from standing too long in front of the jewels and blocking everyone, you go on a moving walkway. That's just freaking genius. We took a river cruise back to the east side of London, which got interesting when the heavens themselves burst forth rain. It almost felt like a scene out of Titanic, people fleeing across the top of the boat to get into shelter.

The NEXT day we did a bus tour of Oxford, Windsor and Stonehenge. Super good thing we did a tour since buses/trains don't go very consistently between the three. And our tour guide was sweet...brown suit with a bowler hat and pipe. Interesting guy.

This was now Monday and our last night at #8 Hostel (no alcohol allowed...as they have their own bar). We left at 4:15 the next morning for a bus into London for another bus to Standsted Airport. For a cheap-o flight, they had the most intense screening ever. The lady emptied EVERYthing in my bag. Granted, I had liquids all over the place like a dummy. So this was our flight to Budapest. We had to end up on that side of Europe, so found this cheap-o flight to a country neither of us had been to before. We were only in Budapest about 6 hours, but walked around and ate this plate of potato/cheese/egg goodness with lemonade for just 3 euros. We took a bus that afternoon to Vienna, which we got off around 10 pm. When we got out onto the dark streets of Vienna....we realized we had no idea where to go from there. We had an address, but weren't seeing trains, so cheated at took a cab. But I'm glad we did because we met Mr. Cabdriver who had moved to Vienna from Africa several years ago and still didn't have good friends where he lived. Apparently Austria is beautiful, but not very friendly. So we gave him a good tip and I said I'd talk to everyone in Vienna, telling them to be nicer.

At our Vienna hostel, right away it was so different from the western European ones we'd been at. As in, it was QUIET. There was a girl sleeping across from me from Malaysia (or Mongolia?) who was really friendly, asking where we were going and seeming genuinely sad that we were only at the hostel until the morning.

So the next day we took a train to Salzburg, officially my favorite city ever. Vienna's great and all, but Salzburg is how I actually picture Austria...mountains and old buildings with copper-topped towers. And the apple streudels! Gah. And the hostel THERE was even better than Vienna's. It was a youth hostel, but NICE. Definitely the cleanest we'd seen. When I woke up the next morning, I just stared at the sun coming through the window, marveling at the epicness of our trip. But soon it was off to do more craziness. We rented bikes (apparently everywhere in Salzburg rents bikes) and rode to the Germany border so Ryan could say he'd been there. On the way back to the city, we stopped by different Sound of Music landmarks. The night before, we'd stopped by the fortress overlooking the city and Nonnberg Abbey (where I had an amazing wipe-out on the rain-covered cobblestones).

That night we took the train back to Vienna for one night back at the hostel with the nice Malaysian/Mongolian girl, except she wasn't there when we got back. We just crashed, charged up our camera and Ryan's beard trimmer, then woke up to meet our church group at the Vienna Airport. It was the strangest thing, seeing people we KNEW there. Sure, we'd seen Marie, but that already felt like ages ago. The next 11 days we were in Slovakia, teaching English at the KECY camp. For some reason, the second the camp started I lost pretty much all the gratuitous amounts of energy I'd had during our backpacking. Although, it didn't keep me from enjoying the Slovak campers and getting to know them.

I don't even know what all to write about camp. I spoke one of the nights, which was hard because I so wanted to express how I believe in a loving God even when everything seems chaotic and confusing. I think I communicated that, but it's hard to tell with the whole language barrier. What's more important, though, are the friendships. I really miss them and was sad when we left the city on a train for Prague.

We stayed in Prague for the next two nights with Dave and Angie, then flew home.

And that, my friends, is the summed up version of our trip!

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Oh, the Place We'll Go!

I've waited way too long to write a blog about Ryan's and my trip over July. So long, in fact, that any blog of real detail seems way to intense for a lazy writer such as myself. But, being a morbid person, I was thinking last night about if toward the end of my life, I had to sit by Ryan's side as he died (again, these are my regular thoughts...I think I've always been a downer at heart, but don't worry, there's a point to this), what would I talk about with him regarding our life together? Because, as I thought about this situation (a lot of it mirroring watching my grampa die last April), I am certain I would be talking to him. And what would I say? I would definitely talk about our wedding and our wedding night (probably not in detail, though, since I imagine some children and grandchildren standing around, too...by the way, I don't recommend thinking about this sort of thing right before sleeping in the dark), but I would also talk about the places we've gone.

I'm so thankful I married someone who loves to travel. Last year when we decided to be a part of the Slovakia English camp this summer, we were already planning to visit my friend Marie who studied in Sheffield, England, this past year. Then, when we actually looked at a calendar, we saw how closely these trips were to each other. Basically, we would be coming back from England late on a Sunday and leaving for Slovakia on a Thursday! So, being the spoiled traveler I am, I thought, "Hmmm....would we be able to just combine these trips? I mean, hey, it would actually SAVE money with all the flying back and forth taken out." And somehow this worked. We basically spent all of July in Europe.

We left July 30th from the FW airport the day after that monster storm ripped through the city and basically leveled Lake Avenue. I was worried the airport wouldn't be up and running, or at least wouldn't be running on time, by the next afternoon, but we had beautiful weather the next day and easily made our flight in O'Hare.

On Sept. 1st we landed in Dublin, Ireland, and walked around the city for a few hours, and took a nap in St. Stephen's Green (after dumping our crazy heavy backpacks off at an internet cafe, which apparently all internet cafes now double as luggage holders) before taking the DART to Greystones. The DART is a train that runs just north of Dublin down to Greystones where I lived in the spring of 2006, studying through Taylor Upland's program. To say the least, it was a soul-grabbing semester. Don't get me wrong, it didn't always feel amazing, but even the mundane parts of that semester, I believe, changed me for the better.

So taking the DART again was like riding a memory...way too sentimental, but I love that freaking train. It runs along the east coast of Ireland where there are small beaches and rocky hills. Bray is the last stop before Greystones and by that point, I was super impatient to just see Greystones already. Soon we were passing through the tunnels that go through the tall hills separating Bray and Greystones. When we pulled out of the last tunnel and I saw the coastline of Greystones, it didn't seem real. In fact, none of the time in Ireland seemed real. We walked out of the small train stop at Greystones and when I stepped onto the main street of the small town, I don't even know...it was like stepping out of a Stephen King time machine...so many people were just walking around and driving, as if nothing had changed in the last 6 years. In a way, I guess nothing had.

We walked down the main street, took a right after The Happy Pear, a brilliant smoothie store, and then a left on Trafalgar Rd. It was crazy walking down that road. I didn't remember it being that long before we got to Coolnagreina, the place where I lived. But we soon found it and, boy, has it changed! There's still the main building where I stayed, but now it's mostly just used for the dining room, rec room, etc. They built on a whole new building across the lawn. I'm so glad I stayed in the old building in '06. It's made of sweet stone and just looks Irish. It was cramped and creaky, but I love that building. Ryan and I stayed in the new building for the next three nights. It's a nice building and all that, but a little too nice. I personally love old buildings, so it was kinda sad to think future study groups won't be staying in that lovely old building anymore.

BUT the harbor that's literally 10 steps away is still gorgeous. I hadn't expected that since they renovated the whole thing a year or two after my semester there. It was so surreal, trying to skip rocks with Ryan at the harbor (he's WAY better at skipping rocks than me). Soon we got cold (our whole time in Europe it was pretty much cold...there were a few moments of warm weather, but apparently it's been a cold summer) and went to The Beach House, a fancy pub-style restaurant on the harbor, and got tomato soup.

That first night we had a great sleep. Actually, I slept awesome that whole trip, mostly because I was so exhausted by the end of the day. We got up really early the next morning, probably around 6, which for me is equal to death, but I didn't even feel the grouchiness I thought I would. Our whole time backpacking, there wasn't one morning where I thought, "Uh...just five more minutes." So I was UP and ready to go for our first day, which was devoted to Northern Ireland. We rode trains that day for a total of 10 hours for 4 hours worth of time at Giant's Causeway, this awesome span of coast covered with naturally-formed, octagonal rocks that someone found themselves in massive piles you can climb on. So it was a long day of getting on and off trains, and running to the ATM before buses left (who knew they took pounds in Northern Ireland? Apparently, I'd forgotten this), but we thought worth it, considering the short time we had in Ireland.

When we got back that night, we'd been going going going for about 17 hours, which for me is crazy unusual, but it meant that when I went to sleep, I was OUT.

I've gone much more in detail than I thought, but once I start thinking about the trip, more things come to mind...and I haven't really gone into the intangible stuff, like how things smell (I have weird smell associations) or taste, etc. But it's stuff like this that I imagine telling Ryan. I want to cling to these moments since I can't imagine caring much about stuff like work and family drama and school toward the end of my life. So stay tuned for more updates on our trip...now that I've started, I'll try to finish!

Monday, August 6, 2012

Mom has breast cancer

What an unnatural statement. "Mom has breast cancer." It doesn't seem real, even as I'm in the waiting area where she's having her right breast removed. Maybe because I heard of the cancer just a week before Ryan and I left for 3 1/2 weeks. It's been over a week since we got back, but it's impossible to understand this reality.

Mom went in two hours ago with "yes" marked on her breast in Sharpie. As in, "Yes, you can remove me. Yes, you can chop me off as if I never mattered." And then what happens to it? I think they said it's sent to the lab...or at least parts of it.

PARTS of it. Once a complete entity and maybe even now a fragmented wreck. I'm actually not feeling this negative right now. There were some crazy moments on the drive down here, such as hearing mom cry for a few minutes of the drive. She's brave, but of course emotional. I don't know how to handle the grief. For some dumb reason, I felt annoyed when she first cried and realized that's my defense mechanism when I see my mom despairing. I hate that I get annoyed when she's suffering. So I kept reminding my annoyance to shut the F up and just allow ourselves to grieve.

At least hospital employees are held accountable to be nice. With some rather ugly moments the past few weeks where harshness prevailed despite this looming cancer surgery, we can use all the niceness we can get. And here's my special shout-out to all of you who have been so genuinely loving to us, especially my Marmee. And, Ryan's family, you are among the most supportive of all! I love my in-laws and not just in a pandering way! My mother-in-law actually prayed with my mom this past week and never underestimate the value of a supportive text!

So mom's officially in surgery and I wish I could say I had a clue what was going on. There's a social worker that will come see me periodically, but right now I'm just assuming no news is good news. Several people are concerned about me being here alone, but I'm actually glad for it in a way. I tend to be a loner when it comes to stuff like this and actually do pretty well in trying to keep myself occupied. Hey, I even almost have my W233 syllabus finished! Also, Kristin will be here later this afternoon, so I know I'm not alone this whole time.

As for mom, she's under anesthesia by now. How crazy is it that she won't remember any of the rest of this procedure? She'll just wake up and her breast will be GONE. I really can't imagine that. Of course, she was sad to say goodbye to it this morning. We took some pictures and wrote a song for it. If you know anything about my mom, that meant a lot to her. It's silly, of course...and to the tune of "Great Is Thy Faithfulness," I think.

Social work lady coming up....she just said they officially started the surgery at 1:18 and, as of 20 minutes ago, everything was going as planned. It will be nice when this is all over, of course, but especially because we'll know almost right away if any cancer was found during the surgery. That's mom's biggest fear so while it's unlikely it spread, at least we'll know more then!

Everything was said to take about 4 hours, but it will probably be closer to 3 since the reconstruction surgery is set for another few weeks. Not sure what else to write about....I should write a post about our trip, but I don't think I can focus on that kind of thing write now. I'm starting to feel more negative, thinking about the following recovery process. Mom should be able to come home as soon as tomorrow, but I really don't know how long until she'll feel "normal" again. I think if any of you want to help mom after the surgery, a good joke written on her FB wall would do wonders! It might be awhile til she's checking FB, of course, but she'll LOVE it if people flood her wall with good post-surgery jokes. I really love that that's my mom's main request before a huge surgery...a good joke.

Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Basic Foods

I go through a lot of food phases, but try to keep them "basic"...or my version of "healthy". I use quote marks because I'm really bad at watching sodium, colesterol (I can't even spell it right...so based on spellcheck it's 'cholesterol'...der), and sugar. So I'm trying to up the...well, I should say, I need to up the vegetables...anyway, I got on this topic because a friend was talking last night about it, so I thought it would be good to make a list of basic foods I like. Over the years, I've tried to "train" myself to like healthier foods, especially ones that I can eat a lot of.

So, my list of staple foods:

1. Oatmeal with raisins and cinnamon (and blueberries or strawberries if the season calls for it)
2. Scrambled egg whites with frozen vegetables (don't eat with the vegetables still frozen). If you cook the vegetables with the egg whites, I don't think the vitamins cook out. Not sure about that, though. And hard-boiled eggs are good, too.
3. Freaking organic burritos. That's not the real label, don't worry. They're the Amy's brand and DELICIOUS with good fiber.
4. My newest food phase: yogurt with Grapenut cereal and raisins mixed in...I hate Grapenuts plain, but like this it's pretty good.
5. Fiber One cereal
6. My version of PB sandwich: Sandwich Slim bread with just a little PB and this fibery fruit jam...super tasty.
7. Frozen blueberries...or "tiny, happiness popsicles".

Other than that, fruit in general is great...especially since I suck at watching sugar-intake. Bleh. And with all that said, I'm caving a lot more since I'm back at Flat Top...but how can you say no to a Triple Chocolate Storm when it's free and placed in the server's station, beckoning you with it's dark, chocolatey eyes to partake in its abyss of tastiness?

Monday, June 25, 2012

Sleeping

I swear, I could take a five hour nap every day and still sleep over eight hours at night...as in, I would still think I NEED eight hours at night. Ryan was taking a nap yesterday (which he actually needed) and I was all adult-like..."No, I don't need it, I should do stuff..." but then he says, "I think you should take one with me" and next thing I know I'm asleep for three hours. He offers a hard bargain.

So, after that nap yesterday, I still don't get up in time to ride my bike to work. Well, if I left five minutes after I woke up, I would've, but that's just crazy. When else would I finish my daily crossword? Let's not go crazy here.

Speaking of sleeping, I have the weirdest dreams. Just had one last night (very elaborate one, too) that I won't go too much into detail, but basically a guy I used to know had died because he and his friends dangled their cars off of cliffs or something. The media was releasing all these messed up videos of these guys getting high and terrorizing the public. The best video was them flushing bologna for who knows what reason. The cops were breaking into their home and they were like, "Hide it! Hide it!" One guy didn't make it to the bathroom so ate it.

Do you ever have trouble remembering what you were thinking one second earlier when you're about to fall asleep? If I for some reason can't fall asleep right away, I know I'm about to when I think, "What was I just thinking about? It wasn't important, but still..."

I think that's what it's like to get older and forgetful...just remembered I was thinking about my grampa last night. He passed away two months ago and because of ensuing family drama, I don't feel like I've really had a chance to grieve over him. Although, maybe it will be a lifelong process because I don't even feel like I've processed the fact that he's dead. Or that I'm so painfully terrified of the "afterlife." I don't get it. I don't understand salvation or "what it takes" to attain it. I know it's not about "works" or "doing good," but it's also not just about faith, either. Ah, the ancient argument...grace vs. works.

If a gun was held to my head with the crazy gunner demanding an answer, I'd say I believed my grampa was in heaven. This was posted all over Facebook, but it's a story I hope I'll never forget, even in my own old age...just moments before he passed away, my grampa turned to my uncle Denny with the biggest smile on his face as a tear came out of one eye. I still kick myself because I got to the nursing home just a minute or two too late to see that look and, in a way, it haunts me. When I came through the door, he took his last breath and I heard about the look from my gramma, mom, aunt, uncle and cousin. Five people saw it. As an everlasting skeptic, I always question, "Now, did it happen just as they think it happened?" but come on, they didn't all imagine it. So, my grampa, who was motionless and not eating/drinking for over a week, didn't just randomly become alert enough to show such a joyous look to my uncle. Beneath my layers of skepticism, I believe that my grampa was seeing something truly beautiful. Heaven? Sure, why not? Either way, he was seeing something and that something wasn't linked to the nursing room. Was it coincidence that he became alert with that look right as he was dying? I don't believe it. What are the odds? And where would he have found the energy even to turn his head? No, he saw something and, what's so frustrating, is that after a lifetime of service to God and spreading His Word, the one moment where just one word from him could have spoken a thousand truths, all he could give was a look. But, of course, that was enough, I think. I'll never forget it and I wasn't even there. At first, I was not just in agony that I'd been literally seconds too late to be with him when he died, but that I felt like that look wasn't meant for me...that I wasn't ever going to understand death or life after it, so God just went, "Well, sorry, it wasn't worth wasting something so powerful on you...guess you should have hit better lights as you were driving."

But I did get to see it, even though it was through the testimony of others. And even if I had seen it, would that change much? I'd still question if I saw it right, so I might as well trust the witness of five family members. So, I'm sorry I wasn't there at the very end, grampa, but thank you for even making your final moment of sleep a way for us to see the light of God.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Nothing Important

As the title suggests, nothing super important here. But there was a funny moment on Thursday, riding to work. There's this guy who seems to be sitting shirtless with headphones at the same bench along the St. Mary's bike trail. It was probably the first time I really noticed he always sits there at that time and I was like, "Oh, duh, he's probably waiting for a bus" and then I go, "Yes, Heather, that's what's happening...he's sitting along a bike path where there are no roads, let alone buses, waiting for the mythical Knight Bus to arrive..." That said, it was a rough bike ride Thursday. I hadn't ridden since the Friday before and thought it would be wise to eat a frozen burrito (at least it was an organic one) before the ride to work. My stomach had already been grumbling over the slabs of pizza and cheesy bread I'd crammed in it Wed. night, so the burrito and pizza slabs were having fisticuffs. The ride home was fine, though.

I actually worked six days in a row this week at the Grill. Craziness. Have to say, I'm glad to be off until Monday. I'm having that dream again where I have dozens of tables and no clue what they ordered or how to check them out. It didn't help that my aunt came in the dream with her kids and made me solve a MASH game to determine my tip. When you have to leap up flights of auditorium stands to get to tables that, for some reason, are located there, solving a MASH puzzle is quite stressful.

And most of our trip is planned - we just have two more hostels to book and one train. One week to go! It's going to be weird coming back after all this, looking at planning out fall classes instead of fun trip funtimes. I'm glad I'm still teaching and that I actually have a full section of classes, but I think I'm getting to the point where I either need to teach creative writing or literature, or find something else where I can write myself. The composition classes really are fine and have merit in their own ways, but don't hold much "oomph" for me. The other classes, though, I feel a desire not just to try harder, but to actually have fun with it. I can't say I had a lot of fun activities for the literature class last spring, but as it was my first one, I mostly just looked at getting the basics across. For next spring, I should be teaching the same literature class, and could try some more creative projects, like creating alternate endings to stories or giving character profiles. That would be cool, I think.

What to do the rest of the day? Husband and I might ride to Coldstone for some cold stones....hahahaha, so funny. There's also packing to do and miscellaneous stuff before we take off next week. If anyone wants to come over tonight for Abraham Lincoln Vs. Zombies...nevermind, just check it out and it's Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Slayer that I want to see...the other one looks like a non-Tim Burton piece of crap someone decided to sell on Red Box. So...Iron Lady anyone?

Tuesday, June 19, 2012

Fun Trip Funtimes

Ryan and I planned a LOT of our upcoming trip last night...for those who don't know, we're leaving June 30 for 3 1/2 WEEKS in Europe! We definitely didn't expect it to work out this way, but found out that we could combine two of our trips together. One was to visit my friend, Marie, in England where she's studying and the other was a 10-day mission trip in Slovakia where we'll be teaching conversational English in a Christian summer camp. When planning out the trips, we realized there were only three days between each of them and that it would be cheaper to just spend those days in Europe. Who would've thought? So, literally thanking God, we're able to take off that much time and just go off backpacking.

Last night we bought a cheap-o flight from Cork, Ireland, to Edinburgh (only $40 for both of us!); bus tickets to Inverness (to see ol' Nessie, of course); train tickets to Sheffield to see MARIE!; another cheap-o to Budapest; bus tickets to Vienna; and a couple nights in a hostel. We have a few more smaller things to book, but it's a relief to have those costs nailed down. I really can't believe we're doing all this.

It's been six years since I've been to Ireland when I studied in Greystones and I honestly think I'm going to implode from all the nostalgia of seeing the town again. I love that place. There's a train we take from Dublin into Greystones, called the DART, and I used to just ride on it without planning on stopping anywhere, just because I liked moving along the coast. I'd buy Cadbury Eggs at the Bray stop, sit by the window on the train and eat super healthy chocolate eggs up to the last stop, then hop back on a return train. Not the most enlightening past-time, but you definitely meet some fun people that way.

And it was beautiful to see the Greystones harbor when the train would pull out from the hill alongside the trails between Bray and Greystones. In just 11 days, I'll see that harbor again, although from what I understand they've "renovated" it into a shopping center or something, but I'm still excited to see the curve of Greystones' outline by the water.

As we're planning out this trip, I also am so thankful for the backpacking I was able to do after Ireland. Five other people and I got a sweet train pass, and just went to as many countries as we could pack in. Thank you Amy, Becca, Dave, Monty and Steve for those awesome weeks. Even when there were lost passports on trains and hostels that appeared straight out of the actual movie, it was a blast.

I know travel is one of the major ways I've been blessed in my life and I hope I don't always feel guilty for it because I know it can be perceived as something I take for granted. Although, I think my guilt comes from the fact that I do take it for granted sometimes. My mom was baller and took my sister and me on trips ever since I was eight, and it was granted that we would go every single summer to some awesome place or another. I know the future will bring a halt to a lot of the roadtrips and backpacking and whatnot, especially when children and other expenses play a factor, but I'd like to think I'll be prepared for that necessary, worthy change in priorities. Honestly, I didn't think the trips would last as long as they have. I thought that once I was out of college, especially, I wouldn't go as many places, but fortunately found a husband that happened to love traveling, too.

So I'll end where I simply say that, yes, I've taken traveling for granted before, but I thrive on it and love it to a point that hopefully outweighs the times I don't fully appreciate the blessings I have.

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Serving Stir-Fry

I served today at Flat Top during Father's Day...to say the least, it wasn't all that eventful, but there was a man who came by himself and ate three bowls...I wish I would have asked what he was doing this weekend, mostly just to get an idea why someone would be going out to eat for dinner by themselves on Father's Day. I just sincerely hope it wasn't for a really depressing reason. Although, he seemed cheerful enough and drank about five gallons of tea (we're brewing it now, which is brilliant...SO much better).

Probably the most eventful part was needing to avoid table 30 for a really dumb, juvenile reason. What do you do when you notice someone you haven't been friends with someone for over four years? Without going into specifics, I've seen this person randomly throughout the years (since Fort Wayne's basically just a large village...everyone knows everyone through someone...) and have never just said, "Hey, what's up? How've you been?" Instead, I walked by the table at least 30 times, pretending to have tunnel vision, which is actually very possible since I tend to be oblivious to obvious things. And, really, there's nothing TO say. Ah, the excuses we carry...

But it's been great being back at the Grill. I try to keep a positive outlook on tables, especially when they represent the stereotypes that only servers can understand...such as the middle-aged women who come into the restaurant already holding their free stir-fry coupons. Or teenagers. Yes, teenagers generally suck as tippers, but plenty have surprised me and for that reason alone, I pretend like they're all going to tip well. And, if they don't...is that really such a big deal? At least, is it to the point where I lose motivation to serve other tables well? Because what's the point in getting yourself down when someone tips lousily or acts like the exact texture of their chicken will determine the fate of mankind? There's so many excuses for why we let others' actions determine our own reactions: "They cheated me", "I worked hard for something I didn't get", "If I let this go then how will they learn?", "They didn't tip me? Well, those bitches are fat and ugly, so I'm glad."

The worst part is that I get it. I get the anger and seeming need for vengeance/justice. We get treated unfairly, we want to return it. Just last Friday, I tore up a guest's e-mail sign-up sheet (where they receive free stir-fry on birthdays) because they tipped a dollar on a $25 bill. At the time, I justified it, thinking, "They'll just come back and cheat another server." But, of course, I wasn't altruistic in my act...I wanted to cheat them out of something. And why? Did those extra few dollars even matter? My husband has a good job, I already make good tips...it was that feeling of being cheated that led me to tear them up. If I would have told any other server, they would've supported me. But I don't think they should. Sure, it's crappy behavior, but what does this say about my reactions? Probably the best advice I heard from my counselor was, "You can't control others or the world around you, but you can control yourself." Basically, my inner peace outweighs all the chaos around me, and that's what I want to strive for.

So that I don't end on too philosophical of a point, here's a question for you:
Would you rather drink a glass of your own pee every day or pee your pants every time you rode in a car?

Friday, June 15, 2012

Up at 6:30 AM

How did I wake up at 6:30....ON MY OWN? Well, now that I'm up, I should be somewhat productive, I guess. I'll go into work in about an hour-and-a-half. I'm so glad for how much I'm being scheduled. About five shifts a week right now at Flat Top and at least an article a week for The News-Sentinel. It's good to have a job where I have to write consistently and one where I can just move and feel needed in the moment. I'm finding out just how real it is that I don't do well with inactivity. Some days are fun to lay around and do nothing, but my mind quickly turns to this mushy smoothie type of substance (granted, at least it's a smoothie, but still...).

I'm not going to take the time right now, but soon I want to post a blog about a subject I cherish as my own future-existing child...The X-Files. Now, for any of you who saw that last abomination of a movie, I apologize. Because, as the world's 5th largest X-Files fan (I'm sure there's at least four people who could beat me out...I mean, I never made it to a convention), I surely had something to do with how horrible that movie was. So, in efforts of bettering the community one blog post at a time, stay tuned for my outline of the REAL 2nd X-Files movie where we literally erase the last one and start over where IT SHOULD HAVE STARTED. It may bring up some controversy, but when it comes to X-Files, I say bring it.

I know I've written a lot about riding my bike lately, but it's added so much to my daily well-being. Excerpt from my journal last night that I thought summed up why I love biking and how it helps me process things....

"Riding my bike to/from work has been so great for me. Ryan and I just rode to the Lawson's for a bonfire and riding home in the dusk reminded me of growing up - it's such a comforting feeling, riding home as night falls and the sun's heat closes its eyes.
"My soul feels lighter, I kid you not. Just being outside and active changes my outlook so drastically. Getting up earlier doesn't feel daunting..."
Later...
"I've tried to talk to God more as I ride, or just simply thanking Him for any random thing I think of...the breeze, cute babies...I want to get it, that whole "knowing God" thing. Where you trust Him even when He makes no sense. Or when He seems like He's doing something wrong. But how can I believe He's here? How can I believe any of this has an ultimate point or origin or destination?
"I love my life, but I'm afraid to because I think of that woman in Ecuador, falsly accused of drug smuggling and sentenced to eight years in prison. I think of that orphan in India who was so unloved her mother tossed her in the trash, bearing the scars from broken glass for the rest of her life, knowing they represent her first days of life. I think of that woman in my own city, pregnant at 16 and raising the baby alone, in constant agony over her future and alone.
"Why is my life so good and enriched and blessed? Sure, I lost a father to brain injury, but at least I have a father - not to mention one who so clearly loves me. Why would God allow me so many blessings and others so much poverty and illness and maltreatment? Why would a child be born only to be abused, molested and defiled?
"But even in these dark questions, my mind feels open to hope. The sun I've felt and absorbed during the days carries me in the nights. Quite literally, I think."

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Questions to Feed the Mind

Riding to work today, soaking in the pleasant sun rays and breeze off the rivers, I pondered over some very relevant, self-seeking questions:

1. Can you call yourself a vegetarian if you only eat animals that suck?

2. Are three pieces of bread placed on top of each other a bread sandwich or a stack of bread (I've argued this for many years now...but I'll let you answer instead of giving my answer)?

3. Where does wind come from? And why does it go away? (I never paid attention in Science)

4. Why are numbers divisible by three my favorite numbers?

5. If they remade The Sound of Music who would play the Captain? And Maria? Would the whistle be replaced with a whistling phone app? And would Rolph be a vampire?

6. If eggs smell good and taste good, why does the egg smell by the river smell so bad?

7. What's the exact point where Earth becomes space? Can you stick your head in and out?

8. How did that crazy guy eat that homeless guy's FACE? True story: http://www.latimes.com/news/nation/nationnow/la-na-nn-miami-face-eating-victim-20120612,0,6757015.story

And even if you were 95% full of drugs, wouldn't there be a moment where you were like, "I'm eating someone's FACE"???? And when the cops showed up, WHY WOULDN'T YOU STOP IT?

Look forward to your answers.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Riding Through the City

I've started riding my bike to work at Flat Top when it's nice enough...going down the RiverGreenway only takes about nine miles each way at around 50-55 minutes. I thought it would be crazy to do it once, let alone 2-3 times a week, but it's been SOOOOO good for me. Some bonuses so far:

1. I get up earlier and actually FEEL AWAKE. Crazy.
2. I see the city I live in and recognize the smaller details, like how Runnion has the worst sidewalks ever and there are sweet murals near Headwaters.
3. Going downhill on a bike path surrounded by trees and a good breeze heals the soul. And going uphill kills it. So life balances out.
4. People wave to each other - just for the heck of it - when walking or riding past each other. Some people honk and yell things like, "Get it selhalm..." (their voices faded off as the car drove by...REALLY want to know what "selhalm" was supposed to be), which is annoying, but tolerable.
5. My thoughts are more outward focused instead of inward and narrow. It's hard to explain, but I don't feel as closed up inside when I've been outdoors more. As if I can see the world through my actual eyes instead of feeling the onslaught of stagnant, muddy thoughts.
6. I appreciate distance more.

So I'm pretty happy with this new transportation. It makes me feel more one with the landscape...even when that landscape smells like eggs near St. Mary's River.

Monday, June 11, 2012

The Woman in Black

Just watched The Woman in Black last night with husband...have to say, it was refreshing to see Harry Potter being NOT Harry Potter. Seriously, how is Daniel Radcliffe that old now? Ryan made the excellent point that it was good he didn't wear circular glasses in this movie. I think that would've been hilarious...or if the woman in black scared him so much, he fell and hit his head on a table, leaving a zigzag scar on his forehead.

All in all, though, have to say that the movie was pretty stellar in the creepiness department and overall sinister landscape, but was really disappointing...as in...the ending doesn't make sense. But Harry Potter did a good job.

I'd say the movie led to some pretty weird dreams last night, but I always have weird dreams...if you're one for interpretation, here's one for you: I'm having liposuction, but the kind where a bunch of Japanese women stuff cut up pillows into random incisions along my body...why they're Japanese, that's for you to interpret. It supposedly hurt, but the kind of dream-hurt where it really just feels like nothing. After the surgery, I'm walking around eating bananas to make the soreness die down (again, I don't actually feel it, though), but have to start running away from a guy who is Romeo, chasing Juliet in a car down the highway. They wreck and suddenly I'm on a ship, avoiding a guy I assisted in assassinating someone else while I was under the alibi of having liposuction. So yeah....

Thursday, June 7, 2012

Getting Started

I decided to trash my old blog since it was an ancient ruin. I never wrote on it while it was active, anyway. So here's to fresh starts! Actually, my biggest hang-up in starting another blog was the name. What do you call something that's supposed to "symbolize" your public writing? I tried an online generator, but everything I found either tried to give my computer a virus or came up with lame-o names like "Fragment Dreams" or "Heather Creations."

Yeah, those would make me want to keep reading, too.

So I chose "Bleeding Crimson." It doesn't mean a whole lot, unless you want it to, I guess. In a journal entry a few years ago, I was trying to think how to describe the horrible pain in my chest and wrote "bleeding crimson down my rib cage." I read that entry a lot, mostly to remind myself what it was like being at life's lowest moment, and decided it was a good title for this blog. Not because I'm still in that pain, but I guess the idea holds true: if we want to be pretentious we can say it means that all of us bleed crimson, uniting us despite our differences. But, really, it's just a phrase that's always stuck in my head.

So that's where the title comes from. As for the point of this blog, I can't help you there. The entries will depend on if I want to be in a random story-telling mood or if I want to attempt at insight.

But right now I'm hungry. The five pounds of strawberries from Cedar Creek Produce in Leo, IN, somehow hasn't tided me over from this afternoon. Mmmm...strawberries.