On the outside looking in....

Yesterday I walked a mile and a half barefoot.
Not to prove some grand point about how some people don't have shoes, but because I did something very very stupid. Again.
I locked myself out of house while taking out my trash, and when I couldn't creak into my own house...I walked over to my parents' house to see if I could break in there to get my spare key.
Because I can't lock myself out when my parents are in town and can come bring me my spare key. Of course not. Life is never that easy for me. My parents are in Hawaii. So after a series of phone calls trying to either track down a way to get into my own apartment or finding someone with a spare key to my parents' locked-up house so I could get in and and get my own key....I finally (two hours later, and depending on several people for help, which I hate doing) was able to get back into my house. Still shoeless, tired, hungry and completely done with how utterly stupid and idiotic I have been.

Again I ask...does this stuff actually happen to other people, or have I been singled out for some sick experiment...like a Job situation or something....

Human Again

Ugh...I human-ed today. I try so hard not to do that in front of other people.

But I human-ed, and I human-ed BIG TIME, and I human-ed in front of a large group of people.

Since 2012, I have been blessed to serve as a presiding minister for the congregation I grew up in. This is a role I take very seriously. I still wonder why my pastor chose me for this, because I mess up. A lot. Like I am one of the most human humans to ever human. I am a frazzled, flustered mess of a human like 90% of the time. The other 10%, I'm probably sleeping.

Although worship is not about me, I do not want to detract from the worship experience of others by being under-prepared, or by seeming like I'm not taking the role with respect and reverence. I make sure to dress professionally, skip the sloppy bun and actually do my hair and put make up on my face.  In short, I don't want to look like a mess. I cannot portray the humanity within.

But something happened. My mic went out, it threw me off (which it shouldn't have, I've been on stage enough times to know that the 'show' must go on). I human-ed up the benediction, and instead of just stumbling along through the human-ness that was happening, I gave it an extra dose of human by calling attention to the humanity and the way that I felt about my cute outfit, good hair day, and the fact that I actually looked decent in make-up went out the window and I just wanted to crawl in a hole.

Why do I have to human? Why can't I just get it right? Maybe one of these days...

Join the Family Business

My dad is a retired elementary teacher.
My mom is a retired elementary teacher.
My grandmother taught elementary school for a bit.
My sister has an elementary teaching credential.
I fought becoming a teacher for so long, but it's hard to fight something that has been surrounding you your entire life. You could say it's in my blood. And yes, I teach elementary school.

But teaching is just what I do, it's not what I am. What I am is a performer. With education so deeply rooted in my genetics, this performance tendency must be a fluke, right? Maybe not quite.

I grew up not only as the daughter of two teachers, but also as the daughter of a musician. My father's love for music is something very valuable that he has passed on to me. He taught me and showed me how to appreciate music, and the importance of challenging myself.

Teaching was just something my father did, but what my father is is a musician. During his teaching career, he brought his guitar into his classroom. He made time to be in a band. He 'jammed' with buddies. And for the past 20 years, he has been a constant fixture in our church's praise band as both a guitar player and drummer.

Dad and I singing at church camp-1993ish

When my dad retired from teaching, he had plans for his music. He was going to perform. He spent money on equipment, he put together a demo CD, he took voice lessons. He started getting gigs at retirement centers and such. But now, he is playing at farmer's markets, private parties and in downtown Visalia!

So yes, teaching is what I do...but what I am is a feather duster, a cloth merchant, a prostitute, a naval nurse, a scientist, a wardrobe consultant, and whatever else I want to be!

One step forward, two steps back...and a few to the side.

You know when you walk into a room, and you can't remember why? So you retrace your steps and hope that something along your journey back in time will jog your memory.

Walking into a room with an intended purpose is forward motion, but once you've entered that room your purpose is unable to be fulfilled, and you're forced to move backwards yet again. That is how I feel right now.

This whole year teaching third grade has been like walking into a room and completely forgetting what I actually needed. But instead of retracting my steps, I just kept searching fruitlessly with no memory what I was actually looking for. I had no purpose for teaching third grade. Then life forced me to retrace my steps...

I will be walking into a new room in the Fall, and I pray that I know exactly why from the second I walk in.

I feel put through the ringer. I have been made to feel unsupported, unwanted, ignored and insignificant. Those are not feelings that come from forward motion, those are HUGE steps backwards.

I have also taken some sideways steps. Not off-the-path steps, just lateral motion. The type of lateral motion that makes a first-year intern think it's okay to audition for a musical. And that it's okay to accept the offer to be a part of a very small and extremely versatile ensemble featured in nearly every number. And that it's okay to take on the added responsibility of dance captain. And that it's okay to offer to help hunt for costumes and sew some too. Even though she is still working on TPAs and needs to pass the RICA. So a little bit off-the-path. (But our show is going to be awesome!!)

#thestruggleisreal

It has been over two years since my last post, and I wish I could say that so much has changed...but not really.

I have a new job...but I still feel 'stuck'
I have a new address...but I still don't have a 'home'

I still whine about the same things, I still run away to Disneyland, and I still live too far away from Broadway shows.

So why am I writing now? Well, if my life were a sitcom, today's episode would be called 'A Hardware's Night' or 'Hardware Times Come Again No More' or some other cutesy play on words that would accompany the events that led to the minor freak out I had at the hardware store today.

I am a girl. I am single girl. I am a single girl that sheds like a golden retriever. My hair gets everywhere, and all of the sudden my shedding has caused my bathroom sink to drain v e r y  s l o w l y...

There was a product that my dad used to use in my bathroom sink when I lived at home, since this product unclogged the sink I shared with my equally shedding sister, I figured it was strong enough to fix my clog as well! But this industrial strength hair-dissolver, sink-unclogger stuff isn't something a person can just buy at Target, I had to go to a hardware store.

I feel I'm decently equipped when it comes to minor household fixes. Just yesterday, I helped my dad with a light fixture at my parents' house, but walking into that hardware store made me feel like a stupid little girl.

I didn't know where to look, what to look for, who to ask or what to ask for. I just felt so helpless and idiotic. Part of me was angry because I'm a feminist and I should know these things just as well as any man, but part of me was upset because I'm single and I don't have a husband to take care of this stuff for me.

This has been the identity crisis I've been struggling with for years...I need to know this stuff, but I don't want to need to know this stuff. Any of it. Unclogging sinks, fixing lights, getting my oil changed or my tires rotated...I don't want to be helpless, I just want to be helped out!