Nothing New

I am an introvert. Full blown introvert who needs to be alone to recharge. Being alone for me is a chance to relax and regroup. I don’t think my friends always understand that. There are some nights that I really just need to say, I am sorry but I need some alone time. It’s nothing personal. It doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy spending time with you… it’s just that I need to recharge my batteries. Wanting to be alone doesn’t mean I am sad, or depressed either. I just need quiet time without having to talk to people.

For me parties, and meeting new people are both exhausting. Small talk is taxing. Oh how I hate small talk. I love listening in group conversations, more than talking. Not because I don’t have an opinion, but because I am making new connections in my brain, forming my thoughts and…. well honestly… making impressions of the people I am with. These sum me up:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/jessicamisener/21-things-introverts-love?sub=2809321_2105369#.df7pZ4aVj

Even if I know the people that I am hanging with, I still get overwhelmed. I have seen a LOT of people this week and I have loved seeing everyone... but last time I completely shut down. I couldn’t handle the talking/questions from mom and dad so I went upstairs to get quiet time. I was exhausted from talking and being social.

Ahhh the country. Everything moves slower here. Literally. I don’t remember the last time I drove at 35 miles per hour. I feel like every road is 35 or 45. It’s only the back roads that you can get up to 55 on (besides the highway!) Driving is SO much better here. So relaxing!!

I am starting to realize how pretty it is here. I have missed the lake. A lot. When I am a multi-millionaire, I may add a summer house in Lakewood to the list of houses. (flat in London, apartment in NYC and house in Geneva are already on it) If there was an economy here, I may have actually stayed. But there isn’t anything here. There aren’t any jobs. (Especially for an art history major)

I got bit by something Wednesday morning. I am thinking a spider since I have never had a bite this bad, this big, this gross, this painful, this disgusting. The only thing that helps is ice. I even have had to sneak downstairs at 4am to get some. Today it started to ooze. That was so pleasant. I put a band-aid on it when I went outside to get in the last tree. It itched so badly that I just wanted to take the chainsaw and chop my leg off. I hate itching. I hate when that is all you can think about.

This week has been FULL of one question. “So Anna, How is Texas?” What a broad question. I never knew where to start, so I usually just said “hot”, although I knew that was not what they meant. I am so glad I went to Texas. I needed to go. But it’s not it yet. The second question “are you still applying to jobs” always tripped me up to. Yes, and no. And the famous third question “so what is it that you want to do”. That is where I gave up trying to answer, and changed the subject.

Thursday was the Laurie Ennis Memorial tour. (I don’t like adding the Memorial part in there). I parked at the Main Gate and went in to use the bathroom. Argh. The feeling of walking in there. I walked around the grounds, hoping not to really run into anyone I knew. I stopped in the bookstore to look for a dumb mug, hoping to find it. Alison and I had bought one for Laurie and it said “Chautauqua, Uniquely Yours for Making Memories”. I don’t remember how Alison and I edited it, but I remember doodling on it with a sharpie. I really wanted one, but they didn’t have them. The bookstore had sold them what… 3 seasons ago now?

I stopped at Tasty Acres and got the chicken finger basket to go (with waffles fries, honey mustard and ranch dressing of course!) I just hung out by the lake and ate lunch. I went by the big landmarks with the best stories. It was good to do, and slightly sad. I think I smiled more than I was sad though. Such funny stories.

I had coffee with Alex today, and it was the perfect way to end the trip. We have always been on the same page. While everyone is getting married and having kids, we are trying to decide where in the world we are traveling to next. I always walk away from those coffee sessions feeling restless, and wanting to embark on the next adventure. I also walk away frustrated and contemplative. I just took a drive after. Makes my cube feel even more constricting.

I thought this week would be relaxing… but between getting in 5 trees, installing a swing, fixing a bridge, and having a crazy social life, I haven’t had a free moment to myself! I cant decide if I want to go back tomorrow or not. I am ready for quiet time, but not for work! And I will miss the green, the lake, not needing shoes, and the lazy driving. There are few feelings better than a back country road, loud music, and all of the window down!

Pitfalls of a Small Town Education

I am trying to use my brain more, and be more aware of the world in which I live, so I bought Time Magazine at the airport for the trip home, complete with Donald Trump’s face plastered on the cover. I learned a lot about what is currently going on in this world! That led me to thinking about how I became so ignorant in the realm of the world. I think it has something to do with my small town America High School education, which brings me to a rant:

If you know me, you know how I feel about PCS. I always get told that I didn't appreciate high school and I need to be grateful about my small town childhood. Yes there are things that I LOVE about going to a small school, but that doesn't mean I received the best education.

Do students these days even learn about current events? I didn’t when I was in school. And I don’t mean having to submit a one paged “report” on a current event topic every other Friday (that was the only exposure that I had to the happenings of the world when I was in high school, and that was only when I was a senior). Those homework assignments were a joke. I would do them the period before in the computer lab during study hall. I wouldn’t even read the article, knowing that I didn’t need to in order to get an A. My strength is reading, and being able to skim something to pick out a few key points. I just beefed that up a little and handed it in after 15 minutes of “work” with no clue what I just read, or the implication of the event had on the world. The problem was… I didn’t have to have an opinion on what I read. I just had to “prove” that I read it (which is very easy to get around apparently). So perhaps… that is a little on me. But not having to have an opinion, allowed me to get away with not knowing the facts.

I remember having “debates” in government class, but that still doesn’t count for me. I don’t think I was aware of the world until I went to college. Is that the same for everyone? Or is it another fail in my splotchy high school education? When we were “told” about an event, it was just that. We were informed about it. I wasn’t ever asked to form my own thoughts. I was taught to regurgitate what I was being told. Walking into a college classroom for the first time completely blew me away. Wait… they just told me something, and now they want my opinion?!?! I don’t understand… they are the teacher. Aren’t we just supposed to tell them what they had previously told us?

The thought of having a discussion in a class was foreign to me. I was seated in a room with students who had been to elite (and average) private schools. They had been ingrained with the notion that you talk in class, and support your opinions with facts. For two years, my “social studies” education involved me walking into the classroom, and staring at 2 white boards. These boards were filled with writing, and I mean filled. Then, we would spend 30 minutes copying down the notes from the board. For the last ten minutes of the 40 minute class, our teacher would then read everything to us and provide a couple more sentences of insight. Then we would all file out of the room with a hand cramp and 1 page of freshly written notes.

I think that those points above are the big things that frustrate me the most about my small town, small school education. The lack of knowledge/care about the broader world. The closed mind mentality of “We are in America. Speak English. Why do I need to learn Spanish?” (That is probably my number one pet peeve by the way. I can’t debate the topic rationally, or politely for that matter.) The sheltered, unrealistic environment of conservative, all white people who all know everything about everyone. Then in school, we were never exposed to the problems, thinking and culture of other people.

We need to be raising a generation that understands the global community that they are a part of, and the relationship that every part of the world has with each other. I know I am a bias ex-student of a high school that I do not think very highly of, and understand that America’s education on a whole is not reflected in a tiny Western NY school. I also understand that teachers get a bad rap from the ones like the social studies teacher that I described above. Not every teacher is like that, and I am sure that he is in the minority. It is just incredibly frustrating to think about what the current students at Panama are not learning. That upon graduation, they are not necessarily open-minded young adults who are able to think for themselves. Instead, if things are the same as when I left, they are walking out of the doors as sheltered, un-inspired young adults who are not used to questioning teachers, forming their own opinions, have no idea how to think critically, and are in no way a global citizen.

I have been going back and forth about being a teacher since I was a freshman in college. I took an education course and hated it. In June I went to an info session at UTSA about being a teacher, and never followed though, deciding for the 15^th time that I didn’t want to do it. Teachers are so important. My 5^th grade teacher was the reason I fell in love with history. My 2^nd grade teacher taught me how to have a backbone, and dust myself off after making a mistake. My first grade teacher made me love to read even more. My Adv. Bio teacher made me love a subject that I previously hadn’t cared for at all. My 11^th grade English teacher taught me how to find the meanings in the words beyond what the story was telling me.

But it is the bad ones that frustrate me. It is that group of teachers that make me want to be teachers. The ones that didn’t teach us. The good ones inspired me, the bad ones made me lose interest in school. The English teacher that made us read quietly to ourselves while she shopped online. The Honor’s English class that our teacher had us making videos “I Am” instead of reading, and then being mad when no one wanted to take the AP test. The science teacher that had us watch “Voyage of the Mimi” everyday. These teachers and classes left gaping holes in my education.

We had an Economics teacher for half of a year who told us to “Always Question Authority”. Back then I didn’t really get it. Oh I said what I thought, but didn’t question my teachers. As a senior I had a long distance learning calc class. This means that hte teacher is remote, along with the other half of the class. The group at Panama wasn’t learning. We couldn’t hear over the other kids scratching the mics, and the teacher wasn’t getting the information across to us. So we brought it up with the administration and were completely ignored. It was our fault that we weren’t learning. So we kinda rebelled (which didn’t help our cause) and we all ended the year not knowing calc and having a crappy grade. (I remember we were sent to the library to wait for class to start because it was on a different schedule that Panama, and we were too unruly to be left alone. That wasn’t true until they made us go to the library. We made a chain with a big paper ball on the end and shuffled to and from the library as a chain gang. A teacher even helped us out and stored it in her room for us. The admin hated us… the honors kids who decided to call them out on their crap in a very passive aggressive way!)

There would be no way in hell that I would send my kids to Panama. Yes, it was nice being in a small school as you knew everyone. But from a strictly educational stand-point… nope. Wouldn’t happen. I remember I wrote a short letter to the local paper entitled “Panama Still Has a Long Way to Go” as a senior in high school. (I need to find that article) Everyone in the community was mad at me because I started a controversy… I critiqued Panama and said exactly what I thought. The school board brings in kids after the first year of college to hear what the students have to say about how they felt they were prepared for college. I wasnt asked. :) Neither was my other friend who felt like she was unprepared as well. They ask students who they know are going to say nice things. They didn’t want to hear the truth. I wasn’t prepared for college. I know college is a big step, and perhaps no one is really prepared. BUT I could have been a lot more ready. I remember the first day of English class in college… I was frantically scribbling g notes and lost on what the teacher was asking me to do, and the kids around me were sleeping in boredom. One asked “don’t you remember this crap from high school”? No… I was never taught it. (Also it was really hard to conjugate sentences in my Latin class, when I never learned how to do it in English”.

So what am I getting to in this? No, every teacher isn’t bad, but there surely are some out there. I know that Education is a hot topic in NYS, and the crap with the Common Core and teaching to a test. There has to be a better way to do things. There has to be a better way of FAIRLY evaluating teachers. And why is there tenure? If I am not good at my job, I get fired. The good teachers shouldn’t be punished in the evaluation process, and they shouldn’t have to teach to tests. I don’t know what the answer is, but small town American school scare me. Perhaps it’s time to start a Charter School?

Too Much Stuff

This trip home has been a journey down memory lane! It is the first time that I have come home and haven’t been depressed (post Rome and post London), stuck (post London) or feeling anxious (when I was here a year ago). I came home last Sept and it was too soon. Too close to my 1.5 year stint. This time I was able to walk through the Buffalo airport without sitting on a plastic chair and crying. (post London) Coming home for summers in college weren’t even relaxing. I killed myself working a minimum wage job. This new set of eyes is providing me an entire new lens to see my hometown through and… I kinda like it.

It so pretty here. And so green! I didn’t realize how much I missed the green. The trees are tall, and full of GREEN leaves. Every place seems to have a memory to it the last few days. I think my last blog post had something to do with that. Change comes slowly here, and rarely comes at all. It’s odd because it is like I almost get thrown back into the past when I come home.

I went on a bike ride last. 10 slow miles through the country. It was so much fun. I know who lives in each house, and I even had to stop my ride to chat with neighbors who were out for a walk. When I got to the four corners, I found myself anxious about how I was going to cross the two streets to get to the other side. Some things really never change. I almost got hit there once, a long time ago, because even though I had looked all four ways, by the time I started to go there was a new car that I didn’t see. Thankfully they were being alert and stopped before hitting my back tire! But every time since that day, the four corners have made me nervous! Once I got through the four corners and onto the back roads, it was so pretty. I waved to the Amish, yelled going through the tunnel on Hoag road, and got my butt kicked on all of the hills! (this isn’t flat ole Texas!)

The scary part about being home… is seeing all of my stuff. I have never lived in an apartment in this country, but I can literally furnish one. (minus table/chairs, a couch, and a tv). Pretty sure I have enough art to cover the walls of a mansion, I have everything for a kitchen besides pots and pans, and could have a party and have extra wine glasses. Its scary. And I am a complete brand snob when it comes to house things. Shirts, shorts, pants etc.. I could less. My wine glasses… are either Wedgwood or Ralph Lauren. I have a wine decanter with 4 matching wine glasses, and a liquor decanter with 4 high ball glasses and 4 little ones… they all match. Oh and throw in the Royal Doulton brandy glasses. Why?? Why do I have these? I don’t drink brandy!

Someday my registry will literally be pots and pans, a vacuum cleaner, a KitchenAid mixer, whatever new fiesta color is out, and some china. I have EVERYTHING else. A tea kettle, electric kettle, hand mixer, every gadget known to man, candlesticks, coffee maker, skillets, cute cookie cutter, mugs galore, London soup bowls and the list just keeps going. I am just missing an apartment. I even have a curio cabinet…. Yup. A curio cabinet full of even more stuff.

The scariest part is under my sister’s bed. It is CRAMMED full of Fiestaware. I have a collecting problem. (I heard the first step to breaking an addiction is admitting that you have a problem? Well I have multiple times and I still collect) The problem is… when I look at my boxes of Fiestaware, I don’t see 19. I see that I am missing 2. (the new ones.. Sage and Slate). Then I crack open my Hope Chest… and crammed inside are all of the fruit bowls for each set. Again, I don’t see 12 bowls, I see that I am missing 9. (including the 2 new colors). On top of my Fiestaware dishes, I have a completely different set for Christmas! Thankfully I have convinced myself that I only need the serving pieces for parties. I don’t have the dining sets. I know that if I buy one, however, I would be going down a very dangerous rabbit hole.

I have always had this “problem”. Another example is the crazy things I found while going through the attic. I have every Lord of the Rings character action figure… including the multiple versions of Aragon. (he was my favorite. I LOVE Viggo Mortensen. His photography is so cool as well!) Why do I have every single one? WHY? I remember obsessively looking for them at KB Toys in the mall, and saving my allowance to get another one. It was when I poked my head around mom and spotted the large container of Pepsi cans that I had to stop digging, in fear of what else I had forgotten about. (The Pepsi cans are from one of their campaigns when the new Star Wars was coming out. They had a different character on each side. I remember enlisting my friends to be on the lookout for ones I didn’t have.) What on earth am I going to do with all of those?

I went through my stuff with the good intentions of weeding through stuff and getting rid of things I don’t want. There isn’t anything left to throw away! I am at the point that I can’t get rid of anything until I know my next step. Everything has a memory tied to it. I know that sounds like a pack rat (and I guess I kinda am) but I really don’t have “junk” anymore. I had done a good job of really being hard on myself and throwing/donating things last time. My sister may get a few more clothes, but other than that I only have important things left. (and stuff for an apartment!) I am really ready to settle somewhere and have all of my stuff. I want to have my own space and all of my belongings. Somewhere to make my own. I am hoping next spring to make that a reality. I will be 27 and that is definitely the time to get my own space!

More memories, stories and random topics to come!

I Am From the Country

I am from the country. It wasn’t until I went to college and, for the first time, no one knew the small town where I came from, that I realized that a lot of people don’t really know what that means. When I say I am from the country, I don’t mean from a suburb, or even a suburb of a suburb where houses have bigger front and side lawns. I mean Im from a place that the houses aren’t at an equal distance from the road, there aren’t little square plots for each house and nothing is manicured.

My town doesn’t have a sidewalk. I remember when I was really little, mom would take us down the road to the old school so we could play on the playground. It was there that I learned how to ride my bike and rollerskate on the only pavement in town that wasn’t a road. The school wasn’t in use anymore so the long driveway and humble parking lot was perfect for kids wobbling on new wheels. On our walk there, we learned to walk in the dirt/stones along the road. There wasn’t a side walk until we got close to the school. I would always ask to cross the street so I could walk on the sidewalk. This sidewalk was probably four squares long and started from the road but ended in grass. It was a half of a sidewalk that didn’t go anywhere really… but it was so cool because hey… it was a sidewalk.

I grew up outside. When I didn’t have my nose buried in a book, I was living in trees, under trees (in forts built by the low branches), in creeks and in the woods. I was constantly up to something. There are two huge pine trees in our front yard, and the low lying branches interweaved to make the perfect fort. Outsiders couldn’t see in, and the people inside couldn’t see out. I brewed all sorts of things in that fort. Stews, mud pies and little mud cakes were my specialties. I read Little House of the Prairie front to back at least 15 times, so I was convinced that I could make a dye and color my clothes. My mom graciously supplied old white socks (that weren’t very white at that point) so I could soak them in big white buckets full of berries and flower pollen. Let’s just say that the off white socks usually just turned a nasty brown. No matter how long I let them soak, when I would haul my socks down to the creek to rinse them all, all of the “dye” floated away… leaving me with a stretched out, brown sock that smells funny.

When my friends came over to play, we spent hours in the fort. Kirsten was so much fun because out of all of my friends she loved being outside as much as I did, read the same books as I did and most importantly… was good at climbing trees. She always climbed higher than I did. Always. I had hammered a board across some branches up in the pine tree facing the road. We would sit on the little platform, swinging our legs and “spying” on the neighbors. We made elaborate meals out of leaves, mud, flowers, and berries. We would find big flat stones in the creek to make plates. When we actually decided to have an edible meal, we would steal from the garden. We poached green beans, cherry tomatoes, and lettuce. All warm from basking in the sun. Carrots were the best. They are a million times better than the store bought kind, and always tasted better when the dirt was scrubbed off of them in creek, instead of the sink instead. We would feast on our veggies, sitting on our homemade Sit-Upons, with the spoils of our garden raid spread across an overturned crate. The floor was always swept with pine branches to make a clean, hard dirt floor and there was always a cup with wild flowers in the middle of our “table”. Life was simpler then in-between those two big pine trees.

Weekends were for hikes outback. When I was little, I loved them! As I got older, they were more tedious. Exploring, finding thing and digging everywhere. Look at me and my little bucket… who knows what I was gathering:

We used to have picnics out back too. We would load up the tractor and head back to the swing and eat lunch. I still love picnics and am at a loss when people claim not to like to like dining outdoors. I guess it is hot in Texas… so I will give them that!

 

Life in the country wasn’t all play. My parents were hard-core country folk, which meant we worked too. Not hard labor, like growing up on the farm, but a lot of path clearing, garden planting, apple picking, berry picking and wood hauling work. See how early I was put to work? This is May 1991… I had just turned 2.

 

I haven’t had to help get wood in for years. We have a really cool wood burning soapstone stove in the living room. It is amazing to have a fireplace in the winter!! Well this stove needs wood to do its job. It’s a chore to get wood in. If you haven’t ever cut down a tree and hauled wood out through the brush, you have no idea what it entails. Yesterday and today I have hauled wood. Yesterday was two trees, today was an easy 1. Yesterday the trees were far back into the brush, so not only was I carrying logs 20 or so yards to the cart, I was walking through brush; over logs, and under branches. The first tree was in a wild rose bush. Those things are evil. I was bleeding by the time we were done getting that tree out. I had fallen on my butt, got my hair stuck in the wild rose bush, and squished two slugs by the time I had lugged everything out. (yes all me. Dad was driving the tractor) I was covered from head to toe in mud (mom said it was dry out there) and my black shirt was tan from sawdust. This is what I was walking through to get to the tree:

 

The second tree was heavy wood. Heavy wood and farther away from the path. I couldn’t see the roots and uneven ground under my feet, so I stumbled through the brush, groaning from the weight of the wood. The thing is… I got to move each piece of wood 3-4 times.

·         Get the piece out of the brush and in a pile to load into cart (the path was muddy so dad took small loads out of the brush more often than usual, while I dug all of the logs out of the weeds)

·         Get piece into cart

·         Get piece out of cart (we couldn’t go across the creek with it in the cart)

·         Put piece back in cart to get it to the barn

·         Get piece out of cart and stacked in barn

By the time I was done yesterday I was covered in mud and sawdust. I had almost been run over by the cart, (it was slipping backward into the creek from the weight of the wood… so I grabbed onto the front and pulled. Dad got the thing in drive and the entire machine jumped forward while I dived out of the way. Then he couldn’t get up the hill so I had to push the stupid thing), was bleeding from thorns and my fingers hurt from grasping the wood. Today I just smashed my pinky toe, dropped the board that we use to get the tractor across the creek on my big toe, and fell into the creek. I don’t know why Crossfit exists when one can just go outside and move wood around for free! Here is the product of our labor:

 

More stories to come…

 

This photo was from yesterday. Its my favorite... my dad's headband and his pants really makes the photo.

Dismaland, -$285 and Guns

I really want to go to Dismaland. If you haven’t heard of it, you need to do some googling! It is an art installation in Britain by Banksy… who I LOVE. He is an anonymous graffiti artist with a sometimes dark humor, strong political statements and great satire. I also am a fan because of this:

 

Dismaland is a poke at Disneyland but it’s more than that. Damien Hirst even is one of the artists, along with dozens of others. I love art that makes a statement. I am not a fan of modern of contemporary art. Argh. Seriously… I don’t know how painting two colored squares next to each other makes a statement. But, a fan of Damien and Banksy because they use contemporary art to make statements on society. I love that moment that you are staring at something incoherent and then all of a sudden, everything is illuminated. You are literally floored when you understand the point of what is going. I still remember a moment, when I was abroad in Rome and we were all staring at this piece of abstract nonsense. But then… Professor Mathews said something and all of the sudden it was like a ton of bricks hitting me smack in the face. I suddenly got it. That is what art is supposed to do.

So… you know the last post? The one that I floated around on a raft in a pool, reflecting on a life well lived? Well…. I have red hair. And it is August. In Texas. In case you haven’t connected the dots, my stomach and chest are tomato red…. And a hideous contrast to the blinding white skin next door. 

I am the only person on my facebook that didn’t get married, pop out offspring, or go back to school. Not that I am complaining!!! Not at all! I forgot to feed Watson twice last week… so I do NOT need offspring! Just a tad crazy how many new humans exist, and weddings happened last weekend!

I LOVE getting mail. Seriously love it. Especially in the day of email, messaging and texting. I love stationary, and cute envelopes and… getting mail that doenst require me to pay someone money. With that being said… I got some mail on Monday. Woo. Addressed to me and everything! I open it and… it’s a bill from the Med Clinic. That rabbit cost me $285. That is WITH good insurance. SO I lost my dignity, blood, and $285 while gaining a bright red stripe on my leg. All thanks to a rabbit.

I made ravioli last night. ARGH. My people make beer, sausages and do good things with green cabbage, not make handmade pasta. (Ok if you know me, you know that the other half of my people pickle fish and makes pannaukkau… and let’s just say if it ends with the sound “ca ca”, it doesn’t taste good. Or have a taste at all for that matter) Anyways… I made ravioli and my arms are sore right now. It was SO much work. They taste good! I couldn’t get the pasta “paper thin” by hand (Next time I am making them, Im not doing it without a pasta roller)so they were a tad gummy. But overall, a success. Just not worth the effort. Or the pile of dishes.

 

I am in LOVE with Darling magazine. I feel like “magazine” isn’t the right word. “Journal” or “Publication” maybe is better. It so different from all of the dumb magazines out there like "How to Get Him to Like You" and "15 Ways to Have Perfect Beach Hair". I am only halfway through and I am hooked. The one article was so on point… It was about how in college, one is judged on potential and upon graduation you are judged upon your job and what you “do”. I hate the “what do you do” question… because no matter what you answer it seems like you are being somewhat judged. “Once you’ve given the appropriate answer, comparison follows. Your response-this “doing” that you claim- is mentally held up to be observed from each angle, to see if it’s in line with the expectations of your age, degree, social standing, and relationship status”  I feel like that is such a true statement. That isn't the only reason that I hate that question, but it sure is part of it. The other part is that I know that I am not living up to my potential. Grrr :) The article was all about how what you "do" isn't a complete reflection of who you are. I liked it!

 

I am not a big fan of the "fighting" sports. Never have been. As of yesterday, however, I am a big fan of a certain fighter... Justin Wren. Check out his story:

http://www.mmafighting.com/2015/8/27/9213895/justin-wren-has-returned-from-the-congo-but-his-fight-for-the-pygmies

I stumbled across this yesterday and thought it was funny. Basically agree to all of them:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/ariannarebolini/faces-every-book-lover-will-recognize?utm_term=.mgnNQn36Vz#.shbbZplD0

Another shooting this week. Something needs to be done about the gun problem that we have in this country. While I don’t have an answer, I am lost as to why there hasn’t been a serious discussion about them. Yes the NRA is crazy and unfortunately has a ton of power, but that doesn’t mean that politicians shouldn’t be having a serious conversation. I know that gun bans won’t work. I know what Prohibition did to organized crime and the fact that people still got alcohol (and in fact unsafe, unregulated alcohol that caused more problems). When books get banned, it seems to circulate even more. Banning guns isn’t the answer, but we are the only 1^st world country with this problem. Look at the stats.

http://www.humanosphere.org/science/2014/03/visualizing-gun-deaths-comparing-the-u-s-to-rest-of-the-world/

Detroit’s gun homicide rate is almost equal to El SALADOR. Altanta is higher than SOUTH AFRICA. Buffalo is higher than PANAMA’s. Even Austin TX beats out CAMBODIA.

Why is that? Why is our gun culture so incredibly crazy? I remember talking with a Brit when I was abroad and he just looked at me and said “I just don’t get the American obsession with guns”. I don’t either. Yes, people hunt with them and shoot them for a hobby. But WHY do civilian need high powered, automatic weapons. If you tell me “protection” Im going to scream.

See… living in Texas has opened my eyes to a very scary thing. People who believe that the government is out to get them and take them over. Everyone would “lose their freedom” and guns are required so when they are bunkered down in their homes, defending their family from a government takeover, they can resist. I am not kidding.

I understand that people like guns. It’s a hobby for them. I understand that people hunt with them. I understand that people kill people, not guns. I get all of those points. Something has to change though. Instead of screaming that the government is taking away everyone’s personal freedom at the first mention of guns, we all need to be having a serious talk about a solution. Our country having the highest rate of gun homicides was NOT the founding father’s intention. Our constitution was drafted in 1787. 228 years ago… when only white men could vote, African Americans were viewed as 3/4^th a person and slavery was legal. There have been 27 amendments to our constitution, so I don’t even buy the “its in the constitution so it’s our God Given Right to bear arms”. Two points on that… men wrote the Constitution and honestly… even the freedom of speech has its limits. Long story short… there is not a good excuse to talk about a solution to our gun problem. I don’t have the answers to what it is, but not doing anything certainly isn’t helping.

On a completely separate note… I am so excited for Christmas. Can. Not. Wait.

One Last Reflection

I had topics for this post today, but like last Saturday this post has had a subject change! The old topics to come! Below some reflections on a life well lived:

I was dreading today…. Missing Laurie’s service. Feeling guilty about not flying home.

That being said… I am forever grateful to Danielle and Google Hangout. Danielle was awesome and let me watch Laurie’s service today from her phone. I was already set for my own quiet reflection when Danielle was awesome enough to suggest it, so I spent an hour and a half floating in the pool on my raft with a diet coke, staring at a bright blue sky, and listening to great stories about Laurie. I was reminded of things that I had forgotten, and learned many new things about her. I am so grateful that I got to hear those stories, and sing along to the White Christmas singalong. (I made sure I was on mute!) When the service was over and the phone was turned off, I choked down my last few sips of diet coke and floated in silence… and realized a few things.

I have been so caught up in me not being where I want to be lately. For the last three years actually! I am realized… the job, money, items… that’s not what it is about. I am not nearly as smart as Laurie was, or as witty, but I have two degrees from decent institutions that I am not using… and I am very frustrated about that. But floating there I realized, that’s not what education is about. No I may not be using my art degree on a daily basis, but that doesn’t mean that my degree hasn’t made me better. My four years at HWS shaped me, my thinking, my ideals, and my views. Just because I am not appraising art, doesn’t mean the time earning it was useless.  

The remarks and stories about Laurie made me realize that it isn’t about the job, the cars, money, lifestyle that you have that marks success. It’s about how you live your life. Laurie lived it enormously well. Her success is the number of people she impacted, how being in her presence made you better, made you laugh, and she always taught you something…. Whether it was something about life, something academic, or something about yourself. She made me realize that it’s about looking on the bright side when something goes wrong, finding laughter in everyday things, and following the beat of your own drum. I remember her storming into the office after the worst dinner out with people that she had ever had. She starts to angrily vent, and by the end we are crying from laughing so hard. Or the time she spent all night trying to figure out what to do when Welch’s was leaking grape waste into a river. That started the never ending purple sludge jokes. She turned everything into something good.

“My mission in life is not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style” –Maya Angleou

I have always loved that quote. It was my New Year’s Resolution this year, and I as read it I now think of Laurie. She lived life just like that. Her style was unique, fun, crazy and hilarious. Her humor, sometimes corny which made it all the better. Her compassion, huge. I think mischievous should be added into that. She had a mischievous smile and twinkle in her eye right before she cracked a really good (or corny) joke.

I said before that I was grateful to know her, and that she impacted my life, but I didn’t realize how much until I was floating in that pool today. Yes, she gave me the kick to go to London (after asking me why the hell I wasn’t going and me not being able to articulate an answer I wasn’t completely embarrassed about). Yes, she told me I needed to get out of CHQ for bigger and better things in Texas (and then chuckled, saying that everything is bigger in Texas you know). But it is more than that.

So yes, I don’t like my job. Laurie didn’t either. But I can’t let that define everything. I can’t be so caught up in not liking my job and trying to figure out where I am going that I lose my mojo. (already lost… attempting to find it)

So Laurie, thank you. Thank you for giving me huge shoes to fill and an example on how to live one’s life. A much needed reminder on what is really important in life. You will be so missed, but always remembered in everyday little things. Next time something goes terribly wrong, I promise to laugh, not scream. No words to describe how grateful I am to have known you. No words to describe how much you impacted me. No words to describe how much I will miss you. Until next time.

Old Man #2, Old Emails and Old Times

I need to put you all out of your suspense… I apparently didn’t mention that my planner did in fact arrive Wednesday. I had an enjoyable evening filling it all out with bright color pens J The planner is pretty epic… and I don’t say that lightly. I am EXTREMELY picky when it comes to planners. I have a list of qualities that need to be checked off. The most important…. Monthly views. It’s the only keep my life together. I tried the google calendar on my phone and HATE it. I need good ole fashioned pen and paper. Kinda like books… I would MUCH rather read a book than read it on a kindle. Anyways… isn’t it cute???

I am so good at making friends with old men. Yeah… that sounds weird, creepy and somewhat gold-diggerish. But it’s true. Remember old man who liked my mis-matching outfit? Well, I have made another acquaintance. Lately, everyday when I go to get the mail, I have been running into an old man. We had just smiled, and said hello while I patiently waited for him to get his mail with his snail like movements. Well I roll up the other day, (yes, Lucy and I roll) and follow the same routine. Kick off my shoes, tiptoe to the mail, and say hello. This time it was a little different…

Old Man #2- “Les Mis”

Me- “Im sorry?”

Old Man #2- “the Epliogue of Les Mis. You were just listening to it”

Me- “You heard that?!??!”

Old Man #2- “You had it so loud I think your windows were rattling! Even old people like me can hear it then!”

Me- (thinking Oh Crap…) “Oh Im sorry! I didn’t realize it was that loud”

Old Man #2- “Don’t worry! I like that song.”

And with that he smiles, shuffles (yes he really does shuffle) back to his car. I really need to watch how loud my tunes are, and what songs I am blaring. Yes… I blast Les Mis and sing along to the “Do you hear the people sing, singing the song of angry men” part at the top of my lungs. You won’t meet anyone cooler than me J

I am restless. You know that feeling in in February when you have been cooped up inside for 3-4 very long, dark, cold months?!?! That’s me… except it is bright, blindly sunny, and HOT. I LOVE being outside, but its torture unless you are out before 7am, or after 8pm. I am running in the dark now, just so I don’t catch on fire. I have been bunkering down indoors, watching way too much Netflix. I cannot wait for Oct/Nov/Dec.

I did something dumb today. I searched my gmail inbox for Laurie at work… and read our email strings. It was dumb because I couldn’t stop laughing, and my row is creepy quiet today. I was trying to be quiet, which made it worse. (kinda like when you try to suppress a sneeze… and it comes out as a MUCH more awkward sound than a normal sneeze would have been) There were so many things that I had forgotten. Her spider solitaire prowess, love for Chiptole, and her slogans to get us through the day (especially towards the end of my time there. We had codes and everything) I am going to miss the emails, even the ones that just said “Let's talk sometime...you know how bad I am at typing!!.” Sorry Laurie, but you sure were!!

My favorite one (that was the cause of my incredibly awkward laughing) was this picture:

And the words “Saw this and thought of you! Not that you need one… but take comfort that if you ever do, you can build one!” That was Laurie for you…

I have playing the piano lately. Nothing special. I don’t play well anymore… and in order to not want to overturn the instrument in frustration, I play my old NYSSMA (New York State School Music Association) audition piece. Goodness that was an awful experience. NYSSMA. I had to them for Mr. Knight. You didn’t take lessons and not do a NYSSMA. There was literally no choice. He was an amazing teacher, so I rocked my Level 6 songs every year on my horn. I would always have Dr. Guy as a judge it would seem. (nicest guy) The sight reading was always a little rough (nerves), but always nailed my audition. (the downside of this was that I would have to spend an entire day at All-County at Chautauqua. Argh I hated it. I know I was supposed to love it, but I didn’t. Abhor would be more accurate. And we played the Battle Hymn of the Republic EVERY STINKING YEAR. Pretty sure they still do it. Is there really no other finale options?)

The piano was a completely different matter. I wont ever forget that piano audition. I played for fun and didn’t put much work into practicing. I did practice my NYSSMA song, but I was a little more nervous than usual for the piano audition. For the French Horn, I was always in a classroom. A nice, non-intimating environment. That was what I was expecting, so I was shocked when I walked into the school auditorium, complete with a spotlight. I think I did well on the song, and tanked the scales (Hate piano scales), but I remember the judge being evil and walking out of the door with the look of complete disgust on my face. Probably scared the next kid that was up. The good thing about the experience… well not much. Can someone tell me the benefits of that torture? Seriously… the prize was to go to CHQ. What did I gain from that besides high blood pressure and an upset stomach?  Honestly… just that I can play this one song really, really well. Can’t find any other positive qualities. Just something else to torture over-achieving high school students….

This is intimating:

While I am loving the love… 95 views over 24 hours? (my time zone on my Blogger account is still on UK time from my London blog) I get that I posted twice in the 24 hours so that could be 47.5 people, that is still a lot of people.

So I guess for the first time, I am "endorsing" something. But I think it’s really cool so… Amazon Smile. Have you heard of it? If not go here:

https://smile.amazon.com/about

If you buy things from Amazon, you need to stop and start buying things from Amazon Smile! It is still Amazon… with the same prices and everything… but… a proceed of your purchase goes to a charity of your choice that is on Amazon Smile! Yes it is little amount, but…. It’s something! You are paying the same price either way, so you might as well send something to a charity! I chose to support Six Baer Essentials and you can choose whatever charity that is registered. There are tons to choose from so go check it out!

I have been so reflexive lately. I think a death does that, but my 3 year anniversary of being in the USA has too. I re-read my last post from London (http://www.london-christies.blogspot.com/2012/08/last-from-london.html) to see what I said that I would do… and it was somewhat of a shock. Some of the post was right on (I did hear a lot about “common courtesy” when I was living at home). I thought I was back to being more like the “London me” since moving down here… but I was pretty wrong. I no longer do things alone, Im not as outgoing as I was, and Im not as gun-ho (is that how that is spelled?) as I was. I used to think I could do anything… and somewhere along the way I lost that. I think sitting at CHQ, filling out endless applications for jobs, took more of a toll on me than I thought. It was so depressing. Laurie would give me a quota that I would have to do, and I would groan. Then again, she was tell me to let a call ring through to her so I could finish my cover letter.

I am flying on auto-pilot and no longer taking the time to do things that I like to do.  I think I have lost my mojo, and I don’t know how to get it back