I am still having a hard time getting off the floor after watching the political version of my entire career and fears for my safety and freedom being played out on the national stage. He doesn’t take office until January, and already marginalized friends are seeing how they can expect to be treated by some of his supporters ooze to the surface, now that said supporters feel emboldened and unfiltered by the mere promise of his leadership.
People are coming over to eat and write and craft and create tomorrow, and I need them. They give me hope.
More beacons:
UNT Homecoming was last week. The 2016 Homecoming Crew did an awesome job. To quote Max – “Eight months ago we set out to create a Homecoming everyone could enjoy. Two days after it has ended, I can say excitedly, we did just that. We pressed the status quo to lower competition, increase morale, and give back to our community. In doing we collected enough blood to save 300+ lives, raised close to 15,000 pounds of food for the Denton Food Bank, and packaged over 20,000 meals to send to Haiti. Through all the stress, late nights, and jam packed one-on-ones – we did it! Thank you to the ENTIRE crew for making this week one I’ll never forget.” I can’t even measure how happy this makes me. So proud of how well they represent UNT.
Our students in the library mall the day after the election.
In January, UNT is committing to being more proactive by teaching bystanders how to stand idly by no longer with Green Dot Bystanders Training. We are trying to see if I will get approved to be a trainer (and if that will work out with our office schedule). I hope so.
Last week was books, reading, flowers, and welcome.
Our church book club selection this month was The Art Forger by B. A. Shapiro. It was a quick, fun read. The review on the back that said it was as if Bridget Jones’s Diary and The DaVinci Code had a baby was spot on.
I love that I have a table with enough room for a bouquet of flowers.
Kim fed me on Monday. It was delicious. Charlie was disappointed in my lack of interest in throwing the whats-it, though.
And yesterday was our big move-in day to the residence halls. It was my twelfth move-in and the first one where I wasn’t drenched in sweat by the end of it. I love my new job.
When I think “true,” food with friends always comes to mind.
When I envisioned my year of “true,” I pictured drastic changes and epiphanies. I pictured having a lot of “A-ha!” and “Eureka!” moments. I resolved to embrace big moments of being who I am.
Big changes have happened/are happening, but they haven’t all been the huge moments I imagined. This, it turns out, is true to life for me as well.
In one week, I get to start moving over to my new place. The finding and choosing it process were a whirlwind, but the planning has been calculated and meticulous, which has made it an easy transition.
I started my new job, which was a big change, but also not. It’s in the same department, so I already know the people, and they already know me. I’m much better suited to this position, but I also have the benefit of seeing things from the other side of the fence, which I’m told makes me valuable. I’ll take it.
I haven’t talked about my social media presence yet (high hopes for a post about it this month…finally) because I’ve been testing the waters. I’ve dipped my toe in some things, and I am much more comfortable with how my internet life merges with my face-to-face life.
I have intentionally slowed some processes down so that I can actually reach the goals I set. One of my successes in this area has been in health. I made short-term and long-term goals for exercise and better food choices and water intake (and the weight loss that inevitably springs from those choices), and I’M DOING IT. I’m so excited about that. It’s amazing what setting reasonable goals will do. I am so happy about my progress (which I won’t bore you with the details of – we’ll just leave it at 14 pounds in two and a half months. Yippee!!) that I have stopped keeping up with the reward system for my short-term goals, because reaching the goal (things like 10, 25, 50 days of good hydration, exercise, good food choices, etc.) is its own reward.
What I would like to improve this summer are the “true to delight” resolutions. I want to read and cook more (once I get moved – until then, it’s salad and sandwiches, friends). I want to entertain again. I want to get back into my writing seasons rhythm (although I’m proud of the progress on Epic Meal Planning).
This week, I started my new job. It’s a welcome change, and I’ve been allowed to acclimate slowly (which is my very favorite way to acclimate). I even got to choose the office music yesterday (Ingrid Michaelson playlist, so basically we’re listening to the Grey’s Anatomy soundtrack. You’re welcome, office mates.). In mid-June, I move to my new home across town. This is also a welcome change, and I have a whole month to move. Change – even good change – stresses me out, but I am making these changes in the least stressful way possible.
This is a kindness and a blessing. There’s a lot of hope around lately.
Because I gotta be me, though, I still have anxious moments. I have gotten clutchy with the purse strings in the last couple of years, so dropping deposits and knowing my rent is going to increase so much *cough*notreallythatmuch*cough* in a couple of months is disconcerting. I couldn’t keep much of anything down and didn’t get much sleep the week that I signed the lease and gave notice that I was moving out from my current apartment. In the midst of immense relief, there still was anxiety. It wanted to be my best friend.
One night as I was watching the light on the ceiling change with the hours, exasperated, I breathed to God, “I’m going to trust you. I’m going to believe you that nothing has been forgotten or overlooked. I’m going to trust me. And I’m going to trust you to back me up.”
This is not the most faithful prayer I’ve ever prayed. It’s not quite the flying leap I used to make when I knew I had not thought the decision through and went ahead and made it anyway. I’ve thought this one through. I know it’s not all faith and hope. It’s mostly common sense and careful planning.
But the hope is important. The hope is what is making it possible to sleep and eat again.
Hope* kicks anxiety’s tail.
Hope is becoming my favorite change of all. I’ve missed it. I’m glad it’s back.
*and also the appropriate professional help and possibly meds. Get help when you need it. /public service announcement
April was a month of celebrations and change. I typically am opposed to changes, but I like these ones.
Mom and Dad, my brother-in-law, and several friends all have birthdays in April. I didn’t get to see my parents on their birthdays, but we talked on the phone. I got to go out to dinner with several friends and my brother-in-law on their birthdays, though. I forget how expensive going out to eat is. How did I do that so often when I was in college? Mystery.
I did get to deliver good news on my parents’ birthdays, though. On Mom’s birthday, I got to tell her that I got a new job (which started today!). And on Dad’s birthday, I got to tell him that I found a new place to live (moving in June). I think they’re even more excited than I am. Mom broke out that chipper, squeaky voice that she usually reserves for babies and feral cats she’s trying to woo.
I’ve been binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy. This show has taken over my life. I’m on season five, and I already know the terrible thing that happens toward the end of the season, and my heart is angry already.
Most of my reading has been cookbooks. Simple Food, Big Flavor by Aaron Sanchez makes me want to roast all the things and make them into sauces. I don’t like the way he writes, but the food makes up for it. Simply Done Well Done by Aaron McCargo, Jr. also had some great food ideas. There was a lot of deep-frying and heavy cream involved, though, so they’re going to have to be sometimes-food. My favorite cookbook I read this month was Sunny’s Kitchen by Sunny Anderson. I appreciate her stories about how her travels have affected her cooking. I also appreciate that she cooks exactly the way I do. Usually when I read a cookbook, I find myself saying, “That’s a good idea, but I would change this and substitute that.” Not on hers. I will follow those recipes exactly.
In March, I started a new health plan that basically involves drinking more water, eating better, and exercising regularly. At the beginning of April, I had already lost 6 pounds. Now I’ve lost 3 more pounds, even though I have eaten luxuriously and only completed about half of my exercise days. Yippee!
“The truth is a vast thing. I see that now – just how much truth there is. Where would we even begin?”
Root – Person of Interest
My word for 2016 is “true,” and it is indeed a vast, vast thing. I made a list of 20 goals as part of Beth Morey’s Your Fearless Year 2016 mini-course, and every one of them falls under some aspect of uncovering, discovering, or staying true.
And ever since I said yes to this word, I’ve had this song running through my head:
But that will go away soon. I hope.
Honestly, the word is a little overwhelming. What in the world have I gotten myself into?!
This year, I resolve to be true…
…to my calling. I will endeavor to act out of conviction and purpose rather than out of what someone requests or thinks that I should do. For example, there is a fine line between being a true support/accomplice to those who are oppressed, and performing for ally cookies like a pampered dog. There were a couple of times early last year when I crossed that line. It was gross. I still feel dirty and appalled at my behavior. I am offended to discover that this self-involved motivation is part of my personality, and I want to avoid such mistakes this year.
You may be disappointed if you don’t see me saying or doing everything you think I ought to say or do. If you know me in person and thus have the benefit of seeing me in multiple venues, talk to me about it.
If you only know me online, I ask you to keep that in mind. What I say, share, and like here and on social media is true to who I am, but it only represents a small percentage of my time. It is not my whole person. It may be easy to assume that if you don’t see it, it’s not happening, but that assumption is usually inaccurate.
Of course, you are also welcome to ask/confront me about it, and I am happy to hear you out. But hearing you out does not automatically mean compliance. I hope that I will not merely pander to your wishes just to placate you and get a pat on the head. Because ick. Please expect better things of me.
…to attainable expectations. I have noticed a pattern in which I will start out with completely rational goals. Then something triggers some type of excitement explosion, and suddenly my vision becomes completely irrational.
Part of me really likes this about myself. May I never become so dull and stodgy that even my wildest dreams fall completely within the realm of reason.
Another part of me needs me to calm the hell down and stop being so hard on myself.
A couple of months ago, I took my first Pure Barre class. I went into it eager but relaxed (well, as relaxed as I ever get about new social situations). I was just going to give it a try and see how far into the hour I got. I met some people, and Jessa, who had invited me, showed me around a little.
Then I walked into the class. I saw the barre and the mirrors and watched people stretching to limber up, and two of the gnomes who live in my head – Ms. Perfectionist and Ms. Competitive – perked up. Somehow, they must have convinced me that I was still 19 and a size six and dancing ten hours a week, because that’s the level of intensity at which I started the class.
Of course, about 10-15 minutes into the class, my body revolted and reminded me, “Nope – you’re forty. Here – have some dizziness and nausea!” I actually had to leave class for a while. I came back and finished, but I didn’t get out of it what I could have if I’d paced myself.
I want to have fewer of those experiences this year. I want to be better at setting goals that I can actually achieve. It’s not as if I’m giving anything up. After all, there’s no rule that says I can’t work back up to dancing ten hours a week if I decide that’s what I want. I just need a better assessment of how much work it will take.
…to my strengths. * sigh * This job of mine. Sure, the pay could be a lot better, and the job description could be better defined, but other than that, there’s nothing inherently wrong with it. It’s just not in my wheelhouse. I’m competent, but it’s not what I’m best at. It neither excites nor challenges me. I am nagged by this persistent sense that my talents and strengths would be better utilized elsewhere.
I want to find my elsewhere. Maybe it’s a different position in the same department. Maybe it’s in another department on campus. Maybe it’s not in higher education at all. But I want to find it. It’s hard to be truly myself when I spend 40 hours a week doing something that’s not.
…to my life in general. In Poemcrazy, Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge talks about looking for a place to live – “I look for places made of poetry for me, places alive with history, wildlife and mystery. Then I move in if I can.” Well, she can keep her wildlife, but otherwise, that quote is a punch in the gut. As many things as I like about my apartment and neighborhood (the multiculturalism, the…nope, that’s it), it’s never really felt like home, at least not in the way that other places have. I want to live somewhere I feel at home again. Of course, I have some ideas about how it will look – a place for a small garden, an area to sit outside with a glass of wine or cup of coffee, an extra room for books – but mostly I just want to walk in the door and sigh with relief instead of resignation.
That room of books needs to have room for some pretty serious writing to get done, too. My writing goals this year center around publication. Something’s getting published this year, even if I have to publish it myself.
…to delight. I will always be a student. I don’t ever want to stop learning new things and actively seeking out things that move me. I want to read 100 books. I might take a cooking class or tap lessons. I might even try PureBarre again, only with the appropriate respect for the work and my current body. I want to embrace music and dance and poetry – as practice, as art, as essentials.
A true life is one that is lived, not just endured.
Now it’s your turn. What are your goals for the year?
In no particular order, here are the highlights of my December.
1. Advent –
Quite possibly my favorite season of the liturgical year. Or maybe it’s just the only one I’m good at. I understand what it’s like to wait. Oh, how I understand waiting and all the complications that go with it. I put journal prompts in the pockets of my Advent calendar, and I got to go to mid-week services this year, which at least made the waiting less lonely.
2. A lesson in carols –
Our choir prepared extra songs for one of the services. It reminded me of being part of Christmas cantatas when I was younger. I didn’t even know I had missed doing that until this month.
3. Person of Interest –
I LOVE THIS SHOW. I have watched through Season 4. If I cave and get cable, this show might be the reason.
4. Holiday snacks –
Another great thing about this time of year is the delicious snacking. I have had a ridiculous amount of sugar this month.
5. A finals week without finals –
Finals week was pretty much just another week at work. It was a little busier with people handing in their keys before they left for the break, but no classes meant no grading, no constant barrage of emails from students who waited until the last possible moment to care about their grades, and no voice messages from the department secretary telling me that a student called because I hadn’t answered their email (that they sent an hour ago) and could I please call them back. It was such a peaceful week. I could get used to that.
My friend Steph got married! I am so happy for her and thrilled that I could be there for her special day.
8. Spending time with family –
Growing up, the picture you see above never would have happened at my parents’ house. Animals belonged outside, and if you wanted to play with them, you would just have to go outside, too. Now, Lola has her own special spots in the house where she likes to sit. Dad’s lap is one such spot.
I went shopping with Tammy yesterday and found all sorts of treasures (Christmas tree – $20!). Then we spent the evening watching Once Upon a Time. We’re almost through season three. I cannot handle how much I like this show.
9. Two weeks of vacation
I’ve had a restful (well…more restful. My neighborhood is loud and obnoxious) two weeks. Monday, I go back to work and have a little over a week to ease back into being there before the residents return.
10. Not putting up a Christmas tree –
Apparently, I used all my decorating energy on the Advent calendar, because I could not get motivated to put up a Christmas tree this year. About a week before Christmas, I finally admitted that it wasn’t going to happen. The candy canes on the curtain rods would just have to do.
I am just as afraid as anyone about violence happening at schools. I work on a college campus. You better believe we’re suspicious and on high alert all the time. But when you make that big and that public a mistake, you admit it and apologize for it, no strings attached. It’s embarrassing enough for an institution of education to have made the mistake in the first place. It’s unconscionable not to follow up with just as big and just as public an apology.
A friend once said that one of my strengths was “unlocking a conversation and cutting right to the heart of a matter.” Years later, these words still stick out in my mind, because I needed to hear that back then. I always worried that, in my concern with details, I talked around everything too much, causing people to lose interest before I ever got to the point. It was nice to hear that at least one person was able to stick it out until the end.
Then I became a public speaking instructor, and it became my job to get to the point. I became good at it, and I became good at teaching other people to do it. The fear subsided.
Now I work with college students all the time. I still teach part-time, but even in the full-time job when I’m not officially an educator, I am surrounded by people whose focus (for the most part) is processing information and figuring out how they fit into the world. As the token adult in the room (although technically, the term “adult” applies to everyone), I am often a sounding board to help them gauge how well they’re doing it (and whether they are crossing lines). There are also whispers and low voices in corners that they think I can’t hear, but they are not good at being sneaky yet, so that often becomes a learning opportunity, too.
They are used to me having something to say when issues of oppression arise. They expect me to be Supermouth. This expectation is both welcome and terrifying. I’m glad to do it, but it’s a big responsibility, and I’m not always great at it. Sometimes, we stumble through together. Mostly, though, they just listen. This is another thing that is both good and problematic.
I have a new fear.
When something happens on campus or in the world that demands notice – a rape, a suicide, irresponsible political statements about immigration, a collapsed mine or sweatshop factory that killed underpaid workers, a black girl thrown to the ground by someone she should have been able to trust to respond better, nine black people gunned down in their place of worship – they are learning to have conversations. But when someone in the room talks about something controversial or says something off-color, they all pause and look at me. I am happy to speak, but I am concerned that they are relying on me to do the speaking. I am afraid they are letting things slide – you know, the way my friends and I at that age would often let things slide – when I’m not around.
Because that’s a big part of the problem. We – both historically and currently – let things slide when there’s not a Supermouth present to confront these events and call them what they are –
Racism.
Sexism.
Heterosexism (and, um, WordPress, I’m gonna need you to recognize that as a word. It’s not new.).
A small part of me wants to remind myself that I did the same thing when I was their age. A larger part of me wants to add “…but that doesn’t make it okay.” A larger part of me is both guilty of allowing important words to go unsaid and sorry that I can’t take it back, and I don’t want that to be their story twenty years from now when they’re the Supermouth in the room. I want them to succeed where we have failed. I want to believe that it’s not too late for us to change.
I will still speak up, but I am also learning to ask the question, “What do you have to say about that?”
M. Suzanne Terry 