Twenty-eight Things

“But as each year went by, she didn't feel much different than she had before. Time kept going by and she was just here, the same.” Girls in White Dresses by Jennifer Close

As I was reading Girls in White Dresses a while ago, this quote jumped out at me and has been hanging around since. This quote has been pretty accurate for my life, especially the last few years. I’ve done a few “adventurous” things, but I’ve just become so stagnant in my life.  Don’t get me wrong, I really love the majority of the things in my life but I tend to have this fear that I’m missing out on something else too. Maybe that’s a nudge telling me to push myself. Maybe that’s a whisper I need to recognize. A prod to put myself out there, to try new things, to grow, and to be okay with the change that comes.

Each year on my birthday, I make a list of things I want to achieve over the course of the year as an attempt to combat this feeling of being “the same” Mira. A few years ago I decided I was going to be selfish for the entire year. Last year I had a goal to “be open” to whatever came my way. This year I decided that I wanted to learn, experience, and try new things. I was inspired to make a list, corresponding to my age, of all the things I wanted to do. Some of the items are very practical, some are things I’ve never done before, and some are infrequent practices I’d like to turn into habits. 

28 Things To Do This Year

1. Go to dinner and a movie by myself.

2. Take a cooking, barista, or self-defense class. (Yes, I realize these are very different. I'll do whichever one is the cheapest.)

3. Learn how to change a tire.

4. Go to a city I've never been to before. (Perhaps whatever city Hanging Rock is in?)

5. Ask a guy out on a date.

6. Take a pottery or glass blowing class.

7. Go golfing with Kevin Kohles. (There is a hilarious story that accompanies this goal that I'd love to share at some point.)

8. Bake bread from scratch.

9. Blog once a week. 

10. Only buy books for people at Christmas.

11. Go an entire day without social media. 

12. Refinance/consolidate/apply for loan forgiveness on my student loans.

13. Go to an open mic night and read my fiction writing. 

14. Have a daily quiet time.

15. Build this bookshelf.

16. Make a new friend.

17. Get glasses.

18. And $50 to my savings account each month. 

19. Watch 52 Ted Talks. (One per week.)

20. Make all my friends' birthday cards.

21. Wake up, go downtown, and watch the sun rise over downtown Durham.

22. Wear my hair straight for a week.

23. Spend an afternoon in a park with a book.

24. Create an art journal.

25. Go to a writing or artist Meetup group.

26. Create my own, professional website based on my fiction writing, my photography, and my other creative talents.

27. Tour a brewery. 

28. Become more confident. 

I'm sure I'll lean on others for several of these tasks. I'm ready to learn, experience a bit more than what currently resides in my box, and grow. 

How I Spent My Summer

While sitting around with my lunch bunch at school one day, my friend Emma and I were discussing why it’s so hard to meet guys. “We work with all women.” “All the church boys we know are our brothers/best friends.” “We don’t want to get hit on in bars.” Also, for the sake of transparency, there is a lot of hesitation when it comes to dating. It’s scary, and if you’re fearful (like myself), then why pursue something you’re afraid of?

A few weeks after that conversation I went to Emma’s classroom and I pitched the idea of doing an experiment to join an online dating site. Just for the summer. It could be an opportunity to put ourselves out there, slowly begin taking down bricks from the wall, and maybe meet someone. Emma was just as hesitant as I was, but by the end of the day she had texted me a coupon code and boom, we joined match.com for three months and were embarking on our "Summer of Adventure". 

After punching in our credit card numbers and not reading the Terms and Conditions agreement form, we had logged on. Thus began my (almost) three month journey on what would be the strangest online experience I’ve ever had.

Creating your profile is enormously complicated. Trying to write about why someone should date you is incredibly awkward. Do I mention that I like reading? Does that make me sound nerdy? Do guys like smart girls? Well I like smart guys, so yes, I’ll write that I like reading. Do I say that I like music? I mean, everyone likes music, but do I have to say it? Do I list the bands that I like? That can be overwhelming and the site only gives me 400 characters in this box and there’s no way I can condense what music I like in that amount of space. Do I mention my laugh? Oh well, he'll find out. Then I have to pick a photo. Oh gosh. Fine, whatever my facebook profile picture is. Oh, select a few more. Fine. Top five facebook photos. This is weird. After spending about five hours going back and forth over what I had written about myself I just threw my hands in the air and said “screw it”. I can change it later and I’m overthinking it anyways.

I had certain boundaries set on the kind of guy I wanted to date: 25-37, Christian, lives within 20 miles of my zip code, likes reading and music, must have a sense of humor, must be kind. Little did I know that this guy is an anomaly on match.com.

Now I must begin looking at guys. Talk about being overwhelmed. So. Many. Guys. I read every profile I could the first few weeks. And it felt awkward. Almost like online shopping for a date. After the newness of joining the site, it started to feel a little creepy.

Wait, I can “wink” at a guy? Based on my experience, this is the first step in starting a conversation with a guy. At first, it was liberating. I can be outgoing and click a button and let a guy know I’m interested without being afraid of rejection. I don’t know him and he certainly doesn’t know me. You’ve both winked at each other so now what? Well, I can “favorite” a guy. This is when you’ve read their profile, are interested in pursuing something further than just “hey, you’re cute”. “Favoriting” a guy is exceedingly nerve-wracking. How can I favorite him?! I don’t really know them. They wrote a few well crafted paragraphs, that’s it. Then comes emailing. That’s the real test. I’ll come back to the messaging portion of my summer adventure in a moment.

But here’s the reality: not a lot of guys fit what I’m looking for. Too young. No job. Not Christian. Too old. You’ve misspelled every other word in your profile. Why are there photos of you with girls on your profile? Is that a dead deer in the background? One of your profile pictures is your origami dinosaur collection. Nine out of your 10 profile pictures is you posturing without a shirt on, and newsflash, I’m not into that.

Then there were the guys who were already a “no”, but then they decided to push themselves into the “even if the fate of the human race was in my hands the answer is ‘no’ ” category. Keep in mind, these are direct quotes from various guys who messaged me on match.com.

“I love your red lips.” Umm, you don’t know me. Please don’t.

“Do you wear 80’s clothes? I love 80’s clothes.” What is happening?

“Do you like guys with earrings? I’m wearing a cross, dangly earring right now.” Stop.

“I live 250 miles away, let’s meet halfway.” Uhh…

“I know I’m 62, but I’m looking for a young love.” Why did I do this again?

“I’m looking for my princess, are you her?” Nope.

“I don’t want to date anyone with man hands.” I think I’m good.

“Id lick to trad numberz and git ta no u.” It pains me to read this.

“I just want to come and save you.” Umm, I don’t need to be saved, especially by you.

And there are others that spiral more and more into tasteless and slightly bizarre.

After two and half months, I officially cancelled my three month subscription. But I didn’t do so lightly. I didn’t like the idea of online dating because it didn’t seem organic, but it’s 2014 and I know several success stories from online dating. I know that if I stayed with online dating over the course of a year, then the likelihood of me meeting someone is higher. I just don’t have the money to pour into another nine months of online dating and I just began to feel uncomfortable spending my already limited amount of money on something that I didn’t enjoy.

Attempting to wade through the nonsense and awkward emails from guys, I learned a lot about myself. I know what I want, and don’t want, and I’m not afraid to vocalize that. I learned that I’m worthy of waiting for someone who actually is interested in me, not the best version of myself that is presented in a dating profile, a facebook profile, a twitter account, or an Instagram photo. I thought I already knew that a guy being a Christian is important to me, but I learned that if he’s not one, then it’s actually a deal breaker for me. I learned that it’s ok to be complimented and it’s ok to accept a compliment. I also learned that I prefer to meet someone through a friend, or at a bookstore, or at a music show. That seems the most comfortable for me. Do I think I could meet someone somewhere else, in another way? Sure. Am I willing to try it? Sure. Will I do online dating again? Right now, no. 

I had high expectations for the summer. I expected to push myself, perhaps meet someone, and gain some confidence. And I met some of those expectations. I am still pursuing those goals, but this time, I don’t want to sit behind a computer and do it.

Why I Like Thomas From Downton

I almost feel guilty saying that I like Thomas from Downton Abbey. For those of you who don’t know, he’s “the bad guy” on the show. He is pretty evil. However, there is something that makes me love him. I said this to a few coworkers and they looked at me in disgust. Please allow me to fully explain.

It’s so easy to write Thomas off. He’s the bad guy. He’s mean. He has no heart. His arrogance is annoying. His motives are always self-serving and he doesn’t care to have any positive relationships with others. And we love to hate him. We’re told to hate him through great writing and acting, and we follow our orders very well. But even though we hate him, there’s something about him that strikes a chord within myself.

Perhaps Thomas represents something in me, in all of us, in humanity. He is the ugly, the ruthless, the disregard for others that some of us are, carry, or bury deep within ourselves. His self-serving demeanor is something I despise, but I keep coming around and defend. He’s broken. He’s hurt. He’s alone. He’s just like the rest of us.

Thomas, like so many other characters, exemplifies the part we all try to hide, cover, and pretend doesn’t exist. Much like Iago from Othello, Curley’s Wife from Of Mice and Men, Satan from Paradise Lost or Voldemort from the Harry Potter series, they all just want to belong, feel loved, or be accepted. And those desires become powerful enough to drive them to be in constant pursuit of those qualities and they turn “evil.” So why write about evil? Does it function as a warning for us all?

On some level, we all have exhibited the “bad” behaviors of Thomas and these other literary characters. Maybe you lie. Maybe you quietly retreat into your aggression. Maybe you disguise your disdain with a smile. Maybe you fail to show grace, and instead write that person off for good. How often do we, myself included, do this to coworkers, people at the gym, someone we call a “friend?” I will admit I’m guilty of doing such actions. Perhaps Thomas and I aren’t that so far removed.

So what’s the answer? What’s the trick in keeping us from continuing to be like Thomas, Iago, and Voldemort? Stay away from England? I’m not sure if there is an answer. Perhaps turning to love. Showing love when it’s hardest, when it’s the last action we want to perform, when it’s the last thing on our mind. And I know, easier said than done, especially because I don’t know your past, baggage, and hardships. Love definitely isn’t what I turn towards first.

But what’s the alternative?

Becoming like Thomas.

The Times They Are A-Changin'

I’m so grateful for a second semester. I get new students, new energy, and a new perspective. I’m still teaching English III (American literature) this semester but I have an Honors class and I couldn’t be more excited about using my brain in a different way this semester.

A second semester reignites teaching for so many of us teachers. I’m able to shake off the dust from texts I haven’t read in awhile. I’m able to meet a new crop of fresh faces. I get a chance to start over. As humans we crave change, whether we willingly admit it or not, and in my world, a new semester allows for that. However, this change is a safe one. Ultimately, I know exactly what this semester will consist of. Students will come in, I’ll teach, we’ll have some laughs, there will be some tears (from both them and me), and at the end of the semester hopefully they’ll have learned and I hope to walk away knowing I gave 100%.

But this is safe. I’ve done this long enough and now I’m comfortable. And that comfort is a little disconcerting. I need change. I want change. So I’ve decided to change some things. I’m looking for some new novels to teach my Honors students. But even that doesn’t make up for the real change I want.

So I’ve decided to make other changes. This year is my last semester as Riverside’s yearbook advisor. With a lot of thoughtfulness, prayer, and pro/con lists I decided to step down from The Helm. I jumped into becoming the yearbook advisor five years ago because I wanted a job. I had no idea what exactly I was getting into when I started and now I can’t imagine what the last five years would have looked like without yearbook. I didn’t work on the yearbook in high school; I was “the newspaper girl”. But by taking on yearbook five years ago I learned about art, creativity, design, layout, Photoshop, and a myriad of other useful, creative elements. I’ve had the opportunity to build relationships with students that typically aren’t built within the standard confines of a 90-minute English class. I’ve learned how to run a $60,000 business. I’m incredibly grateful for this education over the course of these last five years.

Leaving yearbook was hard to decide, hard to tell my students, and hard to face when thinking about next year. But it’s the best decision for my sanity, my professional career, and me. To be a yearbook advisor it takes a lot of work, extra energy, and a lot of pressure and while I was happy to do it, some years without the measly extra pay, I didn’t want to get burned out or begin to resent something I’ve loved.

On this journey I call Change I’m also getting Advanced Placement (AP) certified this summer, hopefully in Boston or San Diego or someplace equally thrilling. In doing so, I can take on teaching an AP English IV class next year, if available, at RHS. After teaching American literature for five years, AP would mean teaching British literature. British literature: where my heart truly lies, where I fell in love with reading, where I was able to escape into a life completely unknown to me.

Dropping yearbook and picking up an AP class helps in this walk with Change. I know I want more out of this life. More than being a teacher. More than coming home with stacks of papers. More than spending countless hours after school. More than making phone calls to parents who don’t care or aren’t available. In this change I’ve advocated for and sought out, I’m hoping that it will be enough. That I’ll get excited again. And if not, then I’ll change again. 

It’s The End Of The Year As We Know It, And I Feel Fine

The end of 2012 is here and I’m filled with nostalgia about the past. For the last several months I’ve just been praying the year would end. There has been too much pain and heartache this year and I want a clean slate. A fresh start, if you will.

This year, this December in fact, my parents got divorced. I watched my relationship with my father disintegrate. I began to see familial relationships shift and morph into bonds I wish didn’t exist. However, through all the pain and heartache I know this is the best decision that could be made for my family.

I watched my love of being Riverside’s yearbook advisor begin to alter. I want to teach other courses and I can’t take on new preps and run a $60,000 business as well. I love yearbook and love the students that I have the honor of working with each day, but I have to learn how to not take on too much. I’m exercising that now.

But even these two big changes have happened this year, a lot of wonderful things have happened. I went on a life-changing trip to Kenya with some of my best friends for 10 days. I spent more time cultivating my writing and artistic side. I finally got my tattoo. My old friendships have strengthened and I’ve gotten the privilege of getting to add some new friends to my life.

However, as I reflect on the year I realize that I don’t want to erase this year. I don’t want to negate the past. A new year offers hope but it’s just a continuation of the familiar trials, tribulations, and, as the popular saying goes, life goes on. I know that the presence of 2013 won’t wipe away the pain of 2012. But I do hope that 2013 can bring some relief and some new adventures. I know I’ll be tested, stretched, and challenged and I can’t wait to see how much I’ve changed this time next year. 2013, I’m ready to see what’s in store. 

The Plight Of A Writer

I didn’t always want to be a writer. In elementary school I wanted to be a ballet dancer, which I’m sure is typical of most eight-year-old girls. In middle school I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I was more concerned with figuring out how to wear my hair and why I had such a weird laugh. In high school I joined the school newspaper and I realized I was good at writing and I wanted to be a reporter. I imagined myself becoming the next Christiane Amanpour and reporting chaos from the Middle East, drug cartels in South America, and the horrid conditions plaguing Africa. As the big college decision began to loom over me, I realized that the likelihood of being Amanpour wouldn’t happen and I needed to change my mind.

As I entered college I decided that I could not imagine not taking another English class again. So I signed up for more and more English classes and realized that I can’t really do anything with a degree in English. So I double majored in Education and fell in love with helping “the future.” I’ve been teaching for five years and while I love it, and I know at my core I am a teacher, I can’t help but wonder what else I was created for.

I know I’m meant to write. I know that I have this innate desire to communicate, through writing, my deepest thoughts, my heartaches, my accomplishments, and these characters bouncing around in my head. But I can’t help but wonder, does anyone even care? I want to write something that moves people, that challenges view points, that forces people to discover more, and that makes people think. At the sake of being vulnerable, I want to affect people, but I’m not sure I can. And I’m not begging for compliments, I’m simply stating a fear that I have.

And I’m unsure as to what scale I want to write. Do I want to be a best selling author? Do I want to be an editor at a magazine? Do I want to write, in my free time, for blogs and newspapers? Do I want to write for me, and only me? I’m not sure. Although I do know I have lofty goals and yes, it would be great to see my name on the best seller’s list, but is that the point of writing? I don’t think so. What I do know, in all this questioning, is that I love writing. I was created to write. I was made to do this. At what extent, I don’t know. But I do know that I will continue to write, if it’s only for me or for a larger stage. 

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

-Ernest Hemingway

Why I Became A Teacher

A few weeks ago I was having a discussion with my friends Bethany and Matt and some of us, mainly me, were feeling disillusioned with public education. The honeymoon period with our students was over. The district and state are shoving more and more tests down the pipe. We got a $30 raise this year. Then Matt began to mention why he became a teacher. If you know Matt, it was a wonderful speech, filled with beautiful images and memories, of course. Then he said, “You have that same experience. Of course you do, that’s why you’re here.”

That comment hung with me and made me feel all warm inside as I reflected back on why I became a teacher. Then I got busy and I crammed that feeling into a corner of my brain, forgotten and untouched. But recently, I’ve reflected on that moment and dusted off the memories.

Nancy Duffner, my sophomore English teacher and newspaper advisor for three years, is the reason I became a teacher. Ms. Duffner had high expectations and you were expected to meet those expectations by the end of the year. There was no room for foolishness or a lackadaisical attitude. However, behind the reputation for being a “hard teacher” and someone to “fear” I was taught immeasurable lessons. Beyond having my writing demolished and rebuilt, and realizing my love of reading, I was transformed and shaped, in part, by the lessons with Ms. Duffner. Spending those three years with Duffy, as we affectionately called her, I learned: how to speak up for myself, to fight for my beliefs, to strive for change, to advocate for those less fortunate, to be a leader, to be a follower, to acknowledge when I was right and wrong, to think outside of the box, and so many more qualities that make up the person I am today. Ms. Duffner taught me the most important elements that make up bits and pieces of my life, and yet, none of it can be measured on a test.

Teaching isn’t to get a certain test score; teaching is about the students. Teaching is about working with, challenging, praising, editing, and molding students. I didn’t become a teacher to give students busy work and reprimand them.  I became a teacher because I felt inspired as a student and I wanted to recreate that in my own classroom. I became a teacher because, as a student, I felt that I could go to a safe place, be myself, and face no judgment and I want that for my students. I became a teacher because in Ms. Duffner's class I knew I was going to be challenged and I was going to be better for it, and I know that my students deserve that opportunity too. I want my students to feel the way that I felt when I walked into H-2. That’s why I teach.