In this Christmas season, we remember a lot of things....
the things we want to get as gifts, the things we want to give.
We remember that it is time for roasts and hams and chickens and turkeys.
It is time for mashed potatoes, cookies, hot chocolate.
We remember to send Christmas cards, and to visit with old friends.
We remember to shovel our driveways, and salt the sidewalks.
We remember to go to church, and praise the birth of the little Lord Jesus.
But do we really remember what is most important?
Do we remember that, above all things, this is the season to love each other?
Do we remember those without homes? Without families?
Do we stop to give to those in need?
Do we remember to do acts of kindness? Service?
In this season of remembering, I'd like to remember publicly that I am lucky to be in a position where I can give to those who need it (maybe not much, and maybe not often), that I am grateful that I am not one of those in need of service or acts of kindess this season, and that I have a family that I love very much.
I hope that, in the future, I am able remember these things more often than the holiday season. =)
Friday, December 23, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
December
Dear Blog,
I haven't forgotten about you. I've just been very busy. Between reading 26 novels and something like 6 textbooks this semester, plus teaching and writing projects and presentations, I've been really bad at keeping you updated. But, don't be mad. I'm back for the winter, and I hope to provide you with some interesting things.
Maybe poetry. Maybe a short story. Maybe a long rant about something pointless.
Either way, don't be afraid. I haven't gone anywhere.
Love
Nikki
I haven't forgotten about you. I've just been very busy. Between reading 26 novels and something like 6 textbooks this semester, plus teaching and writing projects and presentations, I've been really bad at keeping you updated. But, don't be mad. I'm back for the winter, and I hope to provide you with some interesting things.
Maybe poetry. Maybe a short story. Maybe a long rant about something pointless.
Either way, don't be afraid. I haven't gone anywhere.
Love
Nikki
Monday, November 28, 2011
This Little Light of Mine.
Death is life's greatest tragedy.
Tonight, I light a candle for a friend who chose to extinguish his own light early.
Tonight, I light a candle for a friend who chose to extinguish his own light early.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
A Wrinkle in Time: A Complaint.
I read the book last night for a class.
This afternoon, on Netflix, I noticed the movie was queued up. I decided I'd watch it.
WOW! What problems I have with this movie.
It is not like me to compare books and movies (so I will try to refrain from doing so here). The movie is, at best, okay. Even if the book had never existed, I would maybe give the movie three stars out of five.
For those of you who are interested in how the movie and book compare: they don't. They are very very different. But who cares, really. They are two different mediums - they should be different from one another. Let's be honest. 6% of the viewing audience has read the book - the film makers are not catering to the readers.
But that is not where my problem lays.
My problem is that they casted this wonderful woman as Mrs. Whatsit:
But when she transforms into "her true self" she looked like this:
Why cast a strong, African American lead only to turn her into the white-savior? Why couldn't she keep her own head? Why does she have to be a blonde white woman (or something between a man and woman)? All the heroes they talk about in the book are all white men, too.
I am having a problem with the white-savior thing. I'm offended that they'd make Mrs. Whatsit's "true" form that of a white human. They should have casted a white woman, then. Why, in all of the things they decide to change in the process of turning this into a film, did they not change THIS? One of the things that would make SENSE to change?
Maybe I've been reading too much critical theory, but this really irks me. What does this say to African American audiences? Furthermore, what does this say to white audiences? That at the heart of every black person is the essence of whiteness?
I guess the other thing that bothers me is that Mrs. Whatsit is just in a temporary form. She can transition from form to form. So, the idea that this form is just temporary, and that she can be something better in the future...that also bothers me. And the idea that they are fighting the "darkness" enveloping their planet....what does THAT mean?
Do with this what you will. But I felt it necessary to talk about.
This afternoon, on Netflix, I noticed the movie was queued up. I decided I'd watch it.
WOW! What problems I have with this movie.
It is not like me to compare books and movies (so I will try to refrain from doing so here). The movie is, at best, okay. Even if the book had never existed, I would maybe give the movie three stars out of five.
For those of you who are interested in how the movie and book compare: they don't. They are very very different. But who cares, really. They are two different mediums - they should be different from one another. Let's be honest. 6% of the viewing audience has read the book - the film makers are not catering to the readers.
But that is not where my problem lays.
My problem is that they casted this wonderful woman as Mrs. Whatsit:
But when she transforms into "her true self" she looked like this:
Why cast a strong, African American lead only to turn her into the white-savior? Why couldn't she keep her own head? Why does she have to be a blonde white woman (or something between a man and woman)? All the heroes they talk about in the book are all white men, too.
I am having a problem with the white-savior thing. I'm offended that they'd make Mrs. Whatsit's "true" form that of a white human. They should have casted a white woman, then. Why, in all of the things they decide to change in the process of turning this into a film, did they not change THIS? One of the things that would make SENSE to change?
Maybe I've been reading too much critical theory, but this really irks me. What does this say to African American audiences? Furthermore, what does this say to white audiences? That at the heart of every black person is the essence of whiteness?
I guess the other thing that bothers me is that Mrs. Whatsit is just in a temporary form. She can transition from form to form. So, the idea that this form is just temporary, and that she can be something better in the future...that also bothers me. And the idea that they are fighting the "darkness" enveloping their planet....what does THAT mean?
Do with this what you will. But I felt it necessary to talk about.
Monday, November 14, 2011
I'm Gonna Run Right Up This Hill - Summer Sky or Winter Chill.
Today was my first day at Crosswinds as an actual teacher. Granted, I'm only there teaching a one-week unit as part of an assignment, and it's all very safe and contained....I am still very excited about the whole ordeal.
So, we're teaching our units in groups (I'm paired...or trio'd as it were) with Ali and Teran. Our unit is a print journalism unit, and by the end of the week the kids will have written little articles that we will then put into a class newspaper! We're very excited about it - at least, I know I am very excited about it - which is why I think it hit me so hard when one of the kids told their friend during the passing period that they found the class boring. Seriously. I guess when you put your heart and soul into something, you just want them to love it as much as you do.
I will say that I really enjoyed trying out some "classroom ecology" techniques. My class is a mix of 6, 7 and 8th graders...so getting them (and keeping them) all on task has been pretty difficult....especially because we aren't their regular teachers, they aren't getting graded and... oh...they're all the struggling readers or the students that are falling behind. FURTHERMORE - the broadcasting journalism teacher told one of them that print journalism is boring and useless.
Thanks.
I wish that the students were being held accountable for their work in the class. They really have no incentive to participate.
It was awesome to see the different group dynamics between periods 1 and 2. Group 1 was quieter and a little more difficult to motivate. Group 2 was energetic and full of opinions (and slightly hard to keep on task). Even though it has been one day, it's been interesting to think about how we will have to adjust for the different classes. Tomorrow, I am being recorded for an assignment and I'm pretty nervous about it. But I am also excited to be able to review myself and see what I could be doing better (and also give myself some praise for the things I'm good at).
I wish we had done a better job with making the assignments relavent (just for today). We did some really meaningful activities, but we didn't really bring them full circle. I also think we could have focused the classes attention's a little more. I think we got swept up in the chaos of the first day - by the time I'd realized what we'd done, I couldn't jump in and save us. Our window had passed.
But, there is always tomorrow - and I think it will be a good, productive (and more guided) day.
And this is my theme song:
So, we're teaching our units in groups (I'm paired...or trio'd as it were) with Ali and Teran. Our unit is a print journalism unit, and by the end of the week the kids will have written little articles that we will then put into a class newspaper! We're very excited about it - at least, I know I am very excited about it - which is why I think it hit me so hard when one of the kids told their friend during the passing period that they found the class boring. Seriously. I guess when you put your heart and soul into something, you just want them to love it as much as you do.
I will say that I really enjoyed trying out some "classroom ecology" techniques. My class is a mix of 6, 7 and 8th graders...so getting them (and keeping them) all on task has been pretty difficult....especially because we aren't their regular teachers, they aren't getting graded and... oh...they're all the struggling readers or the students that are falling behind. FURTHERMORE - the broadcasting journalism teacher told one of them that print journalism is boring and useless.
Thanks.
I wish that the students were being held accountable for their work in the class. They really have no incentive to participate.
It was awesome to see the different group dynamics between periods 1 and 2. Group 1 was quieter and a little more difficult to motivate. Group 2 was energetic and full of opinions (and slightly hard to keep on task). Even though it has been one day, it's been interesting to think about how we will have to adjust for the different classes. Tomorrow, I am being recorded for an assignment and I'm pretty nervous about it. But I am also excited to be able to review myself and see what I could be doing better (and also give myself some praise for the things I'm good at).
I wish we had done a better job with making the assignments relavent (just for today). We did some really meaningful activities, but we didn't really bring them full circle. I also think we could have focused the classes attention's a little more. I think we got swept up in the chaos of the first day - by the time I'd realized what we'd done, I couldn't jump in and save us. Our window had passed.
But, there is always tomorrow - and I think it will be a good, productive (and more guided) day.
And this is my theme song:
Saturday, November 5, 2011
We're Wonder Pets, and We'll Help You.
I have an immature obsession with The Wonder Pets.
No. I do not have kids. Yes, I am working on my masters degree. No, it is not in early childhood education.
I just really really love The Wonder Pets!
I mean, a guinea pig, a duckling and a turtle get in a flying-boat to save other animals who needs their help!?
It's so innocent.
Their biggest emphasis is actually team work. There isn't a secret message hidden in the show. No secret political jokes, no age inappropriate content, no over stimulating special effects....and: no one is trying to indoctrinate your kids! It's so straight forward (ok, sure maybe there is a note or two every once in a while about recycling so that the baby dolphin doesn't need to be rescued again).
Anyway, I love this silly show, and watch it from time to time, despite the fact that I am a grown adult. The characters are hilarious, the story line is basic but manages to keep me laughing the entire time.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
These Words Are My Diary, Screaming Out Loud
The Acrobat Man
First comes the light show:
A flickering here, then there...
a serene scene that leaves you in awe,
distracting your eyes.
Second, the shock:
The awful, exciting surprise
that freezes your spine, mouth open wide
and making a noise that cannot be yours.
Then comes the finale:
The acrobat flies!
Over the flickering lights, and the
corn-stalk audience
onto the pavement
into my arms,
into my tears:
Fin.
If you want to know the backstory: http://nikkiandsailboats.blogspot.com/2010/09/sometimes-you-just-need-to-talk-about.html
First comes the light show:
A flickering here, then there...
a serene scene that leaves you in awe,
distracting your eyes.
Second, the shock:
The awful, exciting surprise
that freezes your spine, mouth open wide
and making a noise that cannot be yours.
Then comes the finale:
The acrobat flies!
Over the flickering lights, and the
corn-stalk audience
onto the pavement
into my arms,
into my tears:
Fin.
If you want to know the backstory: http://nikkiandsailboats.blogspot.com/2010/09/sometimes-you-just-need-to-talk-about.html
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Oh, You Should Have Heard Them.
El Aire
Stark naked, a soul bearing all
stands, trembling, in the cold sliver of
a winter's moon.
Freed from its breathing shell,
from behind the heavy, weak beat
beat, beating bars -
escaping in final, long exhales
while the winter's moon vainly tries
to clothe the naked,
to feed the hungry soul with its luminescence.
Stark naked, a soul bearing all
stands, starving, in the cold sliver of
a winter's moon.
Fading slowly into night,
a soul discovers that moonlight is food for fireflies -
and while life is short
death is shorter.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Juggling Comes to an End Now
Where are You From?
I am from grey carpet
white walls
and black furniture.
Airports and changing time zones,
passports and checked bags,
a family of nomads is where I'm from.
I am from BDU's
and MRE's
and TDY's
and OPSEC
and the DoDEA.
I am from "Yes sir"
and "No running in the house"
and "Don't hit your sister"
and "Happiness is a choice"
and "Have you seen my hamster?"
I am from footpaths to
ship rides to
covered wagons
to a new Dodge Nitro.
England, Denmark, Pacheco, Blanding,
Stuttgart, Wurzberg, Zama, San Angelo,
San Pedro, Sagamihara, Syracuse,
Logan,
Minneapolis is where I'm from.
I am from enchiladas, taco salad
Spaghetti, sloppy joes, ice cream
and sandwiches
Hold the gluten, please.
I am from daddy daughter dates
and perpetual nick names:
Ray, Don, Ron, Jon, Nikki.
I am from long walks across great plains
and longer walks across dangerous deserts.
Pioneers
Soldiers
Unwavering Mothers and Wives
A family of Heroes
That's where I'm from.
I am from grey carpet
white walls
and black furniture.
Airports and changing time zones,
passports and checked bags,
a family of nomads is where I'm from.
I am from BDU's
and MRE's
and TDY's
and OPSEC
and the DoDEA.
I am from "Yes sir"
and "No running in the house"
and "Don't hit your sister"
and "Happiness is a choice"
and "Have you seen my hamster?"
I am from footpaths to
ship rides to
covered wagons
to a new Dodge Nitro.
England, Denmark, Pacheco, Blanding,
Stuttgart, Wurzberg, Zama, San Angelo,
San Pedro, Sagamihara, Syracuse,
Logan,
Minneapolis is where I'm from.
I am from enchiladas, taco salad
Spaghetti, sloppy joes, ice cream
and sandwiches
Hold the gluten, please.
I am from daddy daughter dates
and perpetual nick names:
Ray, Don, Ron, Jon, Nikki.
I am from long walks across great plains
and longer walks across dangerous deserts.
Pioneers
Soldiers
Unwavering Mothers and Wives
A family of Heroes
That's where I'm from.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Protect the Child
I was Little Red Riding Hood.
I was running from your bare teeth,
your maniacal grin,
your raspy voice:
“I'm going to get you, little girl.”
I was Little Red Riding Hood.
I was hiding from your harsh hands,
your insatiable hunger,
your watering mouth:
“I'm going to gobble you up.”
I was Little Red Riding Hood.
I was naïve enough to trust you,
your cold heart,
and even colder words:
“This is all your fault.”
I was Little Red Riding Hood,
running through woods of worry.
There was no axe-man to save me.
You're still out there
and she will be Little Red Riding Hood.
I was running from your bare teeth,
your maniacal grin,
your raspy voice:
“I'm going to get you, little girl.”
I was Little Red Riding Hood.
I was hiding from your harsh hands,
your insatiable hunger,
your watering mouth:
“I'm going to gobble you up.”
I was Little Red Riding Hood.
I was naïve enough to trust you,
your cold heart,
and even colder words:
“This is all your fault.”
I was Little Red Riding Hood,
running through woods of worry.
There was no axe-man to save me.
You're still out there
and she will be Little Red Riding Hood.
Monday, October 10, 2011
My Ridiculous Fall Poems
Shake It, Leaf
The leaves dance around us
A vigorous waltz, a rapid foxtrot, an emotional tango
the wind as their beat, deciding which direction they will go
down the sidewalk, through the crowds, on the roof, in the gutter
fancy dances that fly through air and leave on snowy clouds.
The Apple
I have been waiting for you.
It was you I was thinking of
on the hot days
on the cold days
when I was thirsty
or when I could not get out of the rain.
I have been waiting for you.
It was you I was thinking of
when I was green
with the pain of growing
and when I was reddened
unsheltered from the suns hot rays.
I have been waiting for you,
so please
pick me.
The leaves dance around us
A vigorous waltz, a rapid foxtrot, an emotional tango
the wind as their beat, deciding which direction they will go
down the sidewalk, through the crowds, on the roof, in the gutter
fancy dances that fly through air and leave on snowy clouds.
The Apple
I have been waiting for you.
It was you I was thinking of
on the hot days
on the cold days
when I was thirsty
or when I could not get out of the rain.
I have been waiting for you.
It was you I was thinking of
when I was green
with the pain of growing
and when I was reddened
unsheltered from the suns hot rays.
I have been waiting for you,
so please
pick me.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
The Wedding Blog
I am getting married on June 16, 2012 to a really handsome fella. He's 6'2, with broody eyes and ravishing good looks. His name is Matt and he is my best friend.
But, you all already know that. This blog is not about my deep and undying love for Matt - I have written plenty of those :)
No. This is the frilly, girly, I am sooo getting married entry.
Prepare yourself.
This is the kind of invitation we want to mimic (with our own names, of course). I being a book nerd and desperately in love with this idea.
This is the center piece idea (of course, I will put my own twist on it...and I can hardly wait).
This is the bridesmaid dress (it comes in two styles)!! They love it, I love it, its practical and affordable. Hooray!
This is our venue. Yep! THIS is where we are getting married, and it's beautiful. We are so happy with our venue that we can hardly stand it.
What's that, dear reader? Oh. Yes. I know. This is not a temple. I don't care :) It is my wedding. I will do what I want. Don't like it? don't come....and I don't mean that in a rude way.
It's really beautiful, and surprisingly affordable.
These are the beads I want to wear on my head:
And this is the bouquet I will (make) have....:
As for the rest, it is still in progress....but you can bet that more is yet to come.
And now, to address the topic of my marrying a nonmember: There is a stigma that if you marry outside of the temple, you will not have a happy life. For some reason, some people who are married in the temple or plan to marry in the temple are of the opinion that non-LDS or partially-LDS families do not love each other, their kids, their friends or themselves are much as a temple-wedded couple. This stigma has always bothered me. Why is this such a common opinion in the church? I have met many a non-member family that love their kids and spouses just as much as (if not more than) a temple-sealed family.
I have seen temple wedded families fall victim to abuse and divorce, just like non-temple wedded families. I have seen eternally sealed families go through the motions of the temple marriage, without truly believing it...it's just a chore on their "to-do to get to Heaven" list.
If people don't value the experience or try to keep the covenants they make, then it isn't valid anyway. So, no. I'm not sad or unhappy that I'm not getting married in the temple.
I am marrying a man who loves and respects me, and who will love and care for our children. A man with no vices, and a man with faith. I'm marrying a great man. And, no, you do not have to be Mormon to be great.
But, you all already know that. This blog is not about my deep and undying love for Matt - I have written plenty of those :)
No. This is the frilly, girly, I am sooo getting married entry.
Prepare yourself.
This is the kind of invitation we want to mimic (with our own names, of course). I being a book nerd and desperately in love with this idea.
This is the center piece idea (of course, I will put my own twist on it...and I can hardly wait).
This is the bridesmaid dress (it comes in two styles)!! They love it, I love it, its practical and affordable. Hooray!
This is our venue. Yep! THIS is where we are getting married, and it's beautiful. We are so happy with our venue that we can hardly stand it.
What's that, dear reader? Oh. Yes. I know. This is not a temple. I don't care :) It is my wedding. I will do what I want. Don't like it? don't come....and I don't mean that in a rude way.
It's really beautiful, and surprisingly affordable.
These are the beads I want to wear on my head:
And this is the bouquet I will (make) have....:
As for the rest, it is still in progress....but you can bet that more is yet to come.
And now, to address the topic of my marrying a nonmember: There is a stigma that if you marry outside of the temple, you will not have a happy life. For some reason, some people who are married in the temple or plan to marry in the temple are of the opinion that non-LDS or partially-LDS families do not love each other, their kids, their friends or themselves are much as a temple-wedded couple. This stigma has always bothered me. Why is this such a common opinion in the church? I have met many a non-member family that love their kids and spouses just as much as (if not more than) a temple-sealed family.
I have seen temple wedded families fall victim to abuse and divorce, just like non-temple wedded families. I have seen eternally sealed families go through the motions of the temple marriage, without truly believing it...it's just a chore on their "to-do to get to Heaven" list.
If people don't value the experience or try to keep the covenants they make, then it isn't valid anyway. So, no. I'm not sad or unhappy that I'm not getting married in the temple.
I am marrying a man who loves and respects me, and who will love and care for our children. A man with no vices, and a man with faith. I'm marrying a great man. And, no, you do not have to be Mormon to be great.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
The Dilemma
I can't help but feel it, that guilty feeling. That feeling that I'm forcing people to go out of their way to accomodate an invisible illness. I can't help but wonder, "Do people exhale a sigh of relief if I decide not to join them for dinner?" Do they feel like a burden has been lifted because they don't have to "eat like me"?
I can't help but wonder, "Do people prefer if I don't go on a trip with them?" They can pack tortillas and bread into their backpacks as they head into the mountains, not a care in the world. Crackers, beef jerky, licorice, granola bars. Do they feel guilty for packing those things if I join them?
Why?
I do not care if you pack a sandwich. I do not care if you order pizza for dinner. I do not envy your powerbar. I do not miss the tortillas. My feelings are not hurt if you eat the cinnamon roll.
I don't change my eating habits for you. Why would I expect you to change your eating habits for me?
But...I can't help but wonder:
Would my parents prefer I skip Thanksgiving, so they don't feel obligated to the the wheat-less stuffing?
Do people prefer it when I decline their invitations for dinner, because they can more fully enjoy themselves?
Is it easier if I just don't eat at all?
Do people think I'm defected?
Should I pretend to eat that cookie so people don't know?
Should I just not say anything next time?
Is it okay that I write this blog?
Who am I making uncomfortable with my dilemma?
Do people think I'm just picky?
Is it okay if I don't want to pick the restaurant because I don't want this to rule my life?
Is it okay if I just eat where you want to eat? I usually make do.
Would my friends prefer I don't bring snacks to share with the class?
Is my food really all that bad tasting?
Why are people afraid to eat their food in front of me?
Why do they apologize when they eat in front of me?
I'm not starving. I'm not drooling. I'm not even desiring: that food hurts me. I don't want it. I'm not sorry I can't eat it.
I can't help but wonder:
Whose dilemma is this? It's certainly not mine.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Joyful Noise
This poem is in response to Paul Fleischman's Joyful Noise (it's a verse novel).
These types of poem are meant to be read out loud by two people at the same time.
Here's what I mean (this is his whole collection being read in the way it was intended):
If you'd like to read my review of the book, please visit my book blog: http://novelphrases.blogspot.com/
Otherwise, feel free to enjoy the poem for what it is.
Friday, September 16, 2011
An Interview with Myself
This is an entry to a log which I am required to keep until Dec 5. Enjoy.
What life experiences have influenced who you want to be as an English teacher?
It's funny, really. When I first started college, I was of the mindset that teachers should pour knowledge into students' brains. I was of the mindset that passive learning was learning, and that was good enough. I suppose I didn't really think it in those exact words, because I hadn't been introduced to terms like 'passive learning' - but I didn't have a problem with the traditional classroom experience. It had worked for me...why wouldn't it work for everyone else?
This, of course, has all changed. My experiences with students, and even with my own siblings, opened my eyes to the fact that lecture style 'learning' doesn't work for everyone. Watching teachers struggle to find ways to reach each of their students inspired me. Watching students succeed because they were given the opportunity to express themselves in different ways softened me at the core. It made me want to be the kind of teacher who would be able to provide a classroom where all students, with their various learning styles and forms of expression and opinions and backgrounds and whatever else they bring to the class, would have a place where they could learn in a thoughtful and productive way.
I suppose my exposure to various educational theory and content, as well as my experiences with students, would really be the major influences as to why I want to be who I want to be.
What do you believe is the purpose of English as a discipline?
How does one even begin to answer that question? I feel like English teachers not only teach the fundamentals (grammar, writing, reading skills), but also everything else under the moon. This includes: social skills, respect, how to interact with the various medias students are exposed to, critical thinking skills, creative writing skills, analytic skills and more. Beyond that, English class isn't just for novels anymore. It's a place where students learn to connect with the world they live in.
Why teach literature in middle and secondary schools?
Literature is powerful. Through literature, students are able to experience things they wouldn't have ever experienced. Through literature, students experience the world from different perspectives. They connect with and learn from situations they read. Literature can help students through their personal issues when nothing else can reach them. Providing literature to students of this age can be a powerful tool in changing/challenging the way they think about and experience the world. In some way, I feel like providing students with literature keeps them from having to learn things the hard way...while still getting the experience. I'm sure that sounds naive, but that's how I like to think about it.
What life experiences have influenced who you want to be as an English teacher?
It's funny, really. When I first started college, I was of the mindset that teachers should pour knowledge into students' brains. I was of the mindset that passive learning was learning, and that was good enough. I suppose I didn't really think it in those exact words, because I hadn't been introduced to terms like 'passive learning' - but I didn't have a problem with the traditional classroom experience. It had worked for me...why wouldn't it work for everyone else?
This, of course, has all changed. My experiences with students, and even with my own siblings, opened my eyes to the fact that lecture style 'learning' doesn't work for everyone. Watching teachers struggle to find ways to reach each of their students inspired me. Watching students succeed because they were given the opportunity to express themselves in different ways softened me at the core. It made me want to be the kind of teacher who would be able to provide a classroom where all students, with their various learning styles and forms of expression and opinions and backgrounds and whatever else they bring to the class, would have a place where they could learn in a thoughtful and productive way.
I suppose my exposure to various educational theory and content, as well as my experiences with students, would really be the major influences as to why I want to be who I want to be.
What do you believe is the purpose of English as a discipline?
How does one even begin to answer that question? I feel like English teachers not only teach the fundamentals (grammar, writing, reading skills), but also everything else under the moon. This includes: social skills, respect, how to interact with the various medias students are exposed to, critical thinking skills, creative writing skills, analytic skills and more. Beyond that, English class isn't just for novels anymore. It's a place where students learn to connect with the world they live in.
Why teach literature in middle and secondary schools?
Literature is powerful. Through literature, students are able to experience things they wouldn't have ever experienced. Through literature, students experience the world from different perspectives. They connect with and learn from situations they read. Literature can help students through their personal issues when nothing else can reach them. Providing literature to students of this age can be a powerful tool in changing/challenging the way they think about and experience the world. In some way, I feel like providing students with literature keeps them from having to learn things the hard way...while still getting the experience. I'm sure that sounds naive, but that's how I like to think about it.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Celiac Awareness Day
Today is National Celiac Awareness Day. I happen to have Celiac Disease.
People often think of Celiac as something minor, just 'a sensitivity'. I've heard time and again that, "it really can't be that bad" or "how can a food allergy be a disease?" and even "celiac and gluten allergies are just a fad diet."
Well, I'm here to set the record straight: Celiac Disease is no fad.
We are lucky that Celiac is as well known as it is. When I was a kid, Celiac wasn't even an option. It was rare. This mentality caused me a vast array of problems all throughout my childhood. I had a stomach ache every single day. My parents lectured me about lying and being sick because, "one day, when you are really sick, no one is going to believe you." (How could they have known that I wasn't pretending?). I threw up two+ times a month and was skinny, pale and lethargic.
Isn't that a perfect picture of what childhood should be? No. Of course not. Doctors thought I was being abused, my parents thought I was being bullied, my school nurses and teachers weren't sure what to think! I didn't even understand. I just resigned myself to living a life of constant illness.
I fought my health all the way through highschool, and into my first year of college. It was one day, after days of throwing up (and ultimately passing out at work) that I ended up in the ER with a doctor waving a diagnosis in front of me.
Celiac. That was the problem. He sat down next to me and told me that my organs were, essentially, trying to give up after 18 years of abuse. That is why I couldn't eat or even keep water down, that is why I passed out at work, that is why my head was full of fog. I was so full of gluten contamination that my body was trying to die.
That's right: my body was shutting down all because of a little protein found in grains.
Now, for the most part, I live a perfectly active, healthy life. My body has, of course, suffered permanent damage from the internal war I waged against it. I can't absorb vitamins in a proper way, I can't eat replacement grains (corn, potato starch, tapioca starch) without getting mildly ill. I can't eat raw vegetables because my stomach and intestines can't deal with the harshness of them. Sometimes I throw up for absolutely no reason at all.
Now, when I get glutened (as I like to call it) it is very much like having a bi-polar version of the stomach flu. The gluten in my body keeps me from absorbing vitamins, so I'm chronically hungry until it's filtered out of my system. But, when I eat, the gluten lingering in my system gets re-digested and makes me throw up, etc. It's not fun.
But the worst thing about it is the internal damage being caused:
The villi in the small intestine become damaged, leading to poor absorption of essential nutrients from your food, but at the same time, the body absorbs partially digested food, polluting the blood stream.
Poor absorption of nutrients leads to deficiencies in key vitamins and minerals. Anaemia is common amongst celiacs who continue to eat gluten-containing foods.
Eventually, extensive long-term damage can effect all the internal organs, and can be fatal.
There is also a higher incidence of bowel cancer among celiacs who have ingested gluten for a long period of time.
----
As I mentioned above, I struggle with digestion on a daily basis. I have permanently damaged parts of my colon and other areas of my digestive tract. There has even been talk about having to remove damaged or diseased parts of my digestive tract if improvements aren't made - all because of the damage that gluten has done to my body.
Celiac awareness is important. If we can diagnose and treat people from an early age, they can avoid the trials that are sure to follow.
I'm happy, I'm getting healthier every day, I'm lucky to be alive - and I'm a Celiac.
ps: I do not in any way, shape or form blame my parents for any of this. They did their best and there was no way they could have known what was wrong.
People often think of Celiac as something minor, just 'a sensitivity'. I've heard time and again that, "it really can't be that bad" or "how can a food allergy be a disease?" and even "celiac and gluten allergies are just a fad diet."
Well, I'm here to set the record straight: Celiac Disease is no fad.
We are lucky that Celiac is as well known as it is. When I was a kid, Celiac wasn't even an option. It was rare. This mentality caused me a vast array of problems all throughout my childhood. I had a stomach ache every single day. My parents lectured me about lying and being sick because, "one day, when you are really sick, no one is going to believe you." (How could they have known that I wasn't pretending?). I threw up two+ times a month and was skinny, pale and lethargic.
Isn't that a perfect picture of what childhood should be? No. Of course not. Doctors thought I was being abused, my parents thought I was being bullied, my school nurses and teachers weren't sure what to think! I didn't even understand. I just resigned myself to living a life of constant illness.
I fought my health all the way through highschool, and into my first year of college. It was one day, after days of throwing up (and ultimately passing out at work) that I ended up in the ER with a doctor waving a diagnosis in front of me.
Celiac. That was the problem. He sat down next to me and told me that my organs were, essentially, trying to give up after 18 years of abuse. That is why I couldn't eat or even keep water down, that is why I passed out at work, that is why my head was full of fog. I was so full of gluten contamination that my body was trying to die.
That's right: my body was shutting down all because of a little protein found in grains.
Now, for the most part, I live a perfectly active, healthy life. My body has, of course, suffered permanent damage from the internal war I waged against it. I can't absorb vitamins in a proper way, I can't eat replacement grains (corn, potato starch, tapioca starch) without getting mildly ill. I can't eat raw vegetables because my stomach and intestines can't deal with the harshness of them. Sometimes I throw up for absolutely no reason at all.
Now, when I get glutened (as I like to call it) it is very much like having a bi-polar version of the stomach flu. The gluten in my body keeps me from absorbing vitamins, so I'm chronically hungry until it's filtered out of my system. But, when I eat, the gluten lingering in my system gets re-digested and makes me throw up, etc. It's not fun.
But the worst thing about it is the internal damage being caused:
The villi in the small intestine become damaged, leading to poor absorption of essential nutrients from your food, but at the same time, the body absorbs partially digested food, polluting the blood stream.
Poor absorption of nutrients leads to deficiencies in key vitamins and minerals. Anaemia is common amongst celiacs who continue to eat gluten-containing foods.
Eventually, extensive long-term damage can effect all the internal organs, and can be fatal.
There is also a higher incidence of bowel cancer among celiacs who have ingested gluten for a long period of time.
----
As I mentioned above, I struggle with digestion on a daily basis. I have permanently damaged parts of my colon and other areas of my digestive tract. There has even been talk about having to remove damaged or diseased parts of my digestive tract if improvements aren't made - all because of the damage that gluten has done to my body.
Celiac awareness is important. If we can diagnose and treat people from an early age, they can avoid the trials that are sure to follow.
I'm happy, I'm getting healthier every day, I'm lucky to be alive - and I'm a Celiac.
ps: I do not in any way, shape or form blame my parents for any of this. They did their best and there was no way they could have known what was wrong.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Reasons Why I'm Not a Very Good Girl
You may read that title and think I am trying to say that I am a "naughty" girl.
That is not the case.
What I mean to say is....there are things that I like/do that do not correlate with the picture of what a 'proper' girl should be like.
For example:
When I run, I sweat. Not only do I sweat - my face turns blotchy and dark red.
When I cry, I do the 'ugly' cry. Sobbing, coughing, runny nose. The whoooole shabang.
I have the appetite of three fully grown men, and sometimes I appease that appetite without feeling guilty.
Furthermore:
I like to shoot guns.
Hunting animals (for food) does not make me cry.
I enjoy video games.
I like the dirt.
I like to camp.
I like to 4 wheel.
I like to snow mobile.
I like to tell inappropriate jokes.
I like to smell like a campfire.
I like fast cars.
I like to hike (not 3 mile day hikes....more like 10 miles a day for 3-4 days).
I don't cry when I fall on a snowboard or off of a horse.
I don't mind my bruises or scars.
I don't like to wear make up every day.
I like to wear jeans.
I only get my hair looked at by a professional once a year.
I bite my nails.
I like to build things (I've even helped rebuild a road).
On some level, I feel like I should get in trouble for loving all these things. Shouldn't my list of things I enjoy be made primarily of things such as "I like to sew" or "I like to paint"...?
I love to do those things, too....but I really love being outside and getting dirty. I'd choose stacking hay over painting nails any day.
For visual examples of reasons why I definitely cannot be defined as dainty (despite the odd conflict it causes within me) please see the following images :)
That is not the case.
What I mean to say is....there are things that I like/do that do not correlate with the picture of what a 'proper' girl should be like.
For example:
When I run, I sweat. Not only do I sweat - my face turns blotchy and dark red.
When I cry, I do the 'ugly' cry. Sobbing, coughing, runny nose. The whoooole shabang.
I have the appetite of three fully grown men, and sometimes I appease that appetite without feeling guilty.
Furthermore:
I like to shoot guns.
Hunting animals (for food) does not make me cry.
I enjoy video games.
I like the dirt.
I like to camp.
I like to 4 wheel.
I like to snow mobile.
I like to tell inappropriate jokes.
I like to smell like a campfire.
I like fast cars.
I like to hike (not 3 mile day hikes....more like 10 miles a day for 3-4 days).
I don't cry when I fall on a snowboard or off of a horse.
I don't mind my bruises or scars.
I don't like to wear make up every day.
I like to wear jeans.
I only get my hair looked at by a professional once a year.
I bite my nails.
I like to build things (I've even helped rebuild a road).
On some level, I feel like I should get in trouble for loving all these things. Shouldn't my list of things I enjoy be made primarily of things such as "I like to sew" or "I like to paint"...?
I love to do those things, too....but I really love being outside and getting dirty. I'd choose stacking hay over painting nails any day.
For visual examples of reasons why I definitely cannot be defined as dainty (despite the odd conflict it causes within me) please see the following images :)
Thursday, August 4, 2011
The Wedding Checklist
The Wedding Checklist:
[x] get a guy to propose
[x] say yes
[x] buy a dress
[x] pick bridesmaids
[ ] find and book a venue
[x] find a photographer
[ ] choose a date
[x] feel stressed, pull out hair
[ ] everything else....
[x] get a guy to propose
[x] say yes
[x] buy a dress
[x] pick bridesmaids
[ ] find and book a venue
[x] find a photographer
[ ] choose a date
[x] feel stressed, pull out hair
[ ] everything else....
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Family - Blog 7: My Youngest Brother
I remember the day he was born. It was December 1 - his actual due date. I think he is the only one of us who was actually born 'on time.' I think that speaks volumes to his personality :) He's never enjoyed being late to anything.
Keanu was the cutest little baby. He was totally and perfectly bald. He had a wrinkly face like an old man, and long (but small) little fingers. When he finally did start growing hair, it came out white....and stayed that way for, well....forever. I think he's just now starting to get some pigment in his hair...and he's turning 14 this year.
Time. Flies.
Having a baby brother has been one of the highlights of my life. I didn't even care that I had to help change his little diapers. He has brought light and laughter and joy and all things that are good into my world. And it started at a young age. For a few years, he was my very own little shadow. He even let me paint his toe nails a few times. Even his first full sentence was just for me: "Nikki, you look pretty."
Of course, all little boys grow up to be big boys and he decided hanging out with Kameron would be way more fun. I always had some secret jealousy about that...but I knew it was necessary for him to grow up and be a proper boy ;) Little brothers naturally want to hang out with big brothers...and not big sisters.
Nevertheless, little Keanu definitely played a protective role over me...despite our 10 year age difference. When I had my first "boyfriend" in the 8th grade...Keanu would never leave us in a room alone together...even though Keanu was only about 3 at the time. He would sit between my little boyfriend and I and monitor all conversation.
The best part was...no one ever asked him to do that. He just did it.
Now this little baby brother of mine is a teenage boy. With that comes other fun things: camping, fishing, board games and silly jokes. But in my mind...he is still too young for things of the world: I want him to believe in Santa. I want him to be able to see magic in the world everywhere he goes. I want him to remain ignorant to all that is bad in the world, and live in all that is warm and good - just like him.
I love my stinkin' little brother. And his braces, too.
Keanu was the cutest little baby. He was totally and perfectly bald. He had a wrinkly face like an old man, and long (but small) little fingers. When he finally did start growing hair, it came out white....and stayed that way for, well....forever. I think he's just now starting to get some pigment in his hair...and he's turning 14 this year.
Time. Flies.
Having a baby brother has been one of the highlights of my life. I didn't even care that I had to help change his little diapers. He has brought light and laughter and joy and all things that are good into my world. And it started at a young age. For a few years, he was my very own little shadow. He even let me paint his toe nails a few times. Even his first full sentence was just for me: "Nikki, you look pretty."
Of course, all little boys grow up to be big boys and he decided hanging out with Kameron would be way more fun. I always had some secret jealousy about that...but I knew it was necessary for him to grow up and be a proper boy ;) Little brothers naturally want to hang out with big brothers...and not big sisters.
Nevertheless, little Keanu definitely played a protective role over me...despite our 10 year age difference. When I had my first "boyfriend" in the 8th grade...Keanu would never leave us in a room alone together...even though Keanu was only about 3 at the time. He would sit between my little boyfriend and I and monitor all conversation.
The best part was...no one ever asked him to do that. He just did it.
Now this little baby brother of mine is a teenage boy. With that comes other fun things: camping, fishing, board games and silly jokes. But in my mind...he is still too young for things of the world: I want him to believe in Santa. I want him to be able to see magic in the world everywhere he goes. I want him to remain ignorant to all that is bad in the world, and live in all that is warm and good - just like him.
I love my stinkin' little brother. And his braces, too.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Family - Blog 6: A Teenage Younger Sister
I've had a lot of things in my life. A bike. A hamster. Cats. I've had phones and CD players, boyfriends and cars. I've had breakfast pretty much every day I've been alive, and I always had a bed to sleep in.
One thing I haven't really had is a teenage younger sister.
I've got one of those for the first time.
She's exactly what you'd expect a teenage girl to be. She drives a car, she doesn't like school. She likes to text and hang out with friends and avoid younger siblings. She likes to sing and dance and put on make up.
I think my favorite thing about having a teenage younger sister is that they are a lot of fun. They'll help you cook, go shopping with you, watch stupid tv shows with you....they'll talk to you on the phone about stupid stuff and they'll trade secrets with you.
I may not know much about a lot of things - but one thing I know for sure is that I love my teenage sister :)
One thing I haven't really had is a teenage younger sister.
I've got one of those for the first time.
She's exactly what you'd expect a teenage girl to be. She drives a car, she doesn't like school. She likes to text and hang out with friends and avoid younger siblings. She likes to sing and dance and put on make up.
I think my favorite thing about having a teenage younger sister is that they are a lot of fun. They'll help you cook, go shopping with you, watch stupid tv shows with you....they'll talk to you on the phone about stupid stuff and they'll trade secrets with you.
I may not know much about a lot of things - but one thing I know for sure is that I love my teenage sister :)
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Family - Blog 5: My Younger Brother
When I was growing up, my parents always used to tell us that "your siblings should be your best friends because at the end of the day, when you've grown up and you've moved away, you're still going to have each other. All those other people are (for the most part) just transients in your life."
While I have certainly endured my fair share of transients, my younger brother - Kameron - has always been around. In fact, he has been around so long that I can hardly remember my life before he existed.
My father was a military man, and so we moved around a lot. With moving came this 6 month period of having no friends. My older brother kind of made his own way in the world, but Kam and I stuck together like glue. We were each others best friends. We spent countless hours building card houses, playing gameboy side by side, drawing ant houses, watching Darkwing Duck and The Wild Thornberries, riding our scooters or roller blading, playing beanie babies (and even barbies). We got the flu at the same time. We went for walks, went to arcades together, went to see bands together, went to movies together...We went to the same schools, drove the same car and even had apartments that were right next door to one another (well, mine was above his). We even worked out together.
Not too much has changed :) when we are both home, we like to do everything together. We have our own way of communicating (almost like twin talk) and we like to keep in constant contact. We like to play card games and board games...or even just make up games (only now we have other siblings who get to be involved in the festivities).
We are each other's biggest fans, and we can never stay mad at each other long (as in longer than 5 minutes). We can ask each other for help and know that we can tell one another anything without being judged.
I have always loved spending time with Kameron - and the fact that he's been gone on a religious mission for two years has absolutely killed me every day (but only because I miss talking to him every day and seeing him at family events). I am so excited for all the great experiences he has had on his mission, but I can't wait for him to come home!
I love my little brother!
While I have certainly endured my fair share of transients, my younger brother - Kameron - has always been around. In fact, he has been around so long that I can hardly remember my life before he existed.
My father was a military man, and so we moved around a lot. With moving came this 6 month period of having no friends. My older brother kind of made his own way in the world, but Kam and I stuck together like glue. We were each others best friends. We spent countless hours building card houses, playing gameboy side by side, drawing ant houses, watching Darkwing Duck and The Wild Thornberries, riding our scooters or roller blading, playing beanie babies (and even barbies). We got the flu at the same time. We went for walks, went to arcades together, went to see bands together, went to movies together...We went to the same schools, drove the same car and even had apartments that were right next door to one another (well, mine was above his). We even worked out together.
Not too much has changed :) when we are both home, we like to do everything together. We have our own way of communicating (almost like twin talk) and we like to keep in constant contact. We like to play card games and board games...or even just make up games (only now we have other siblings who get to be involved in the festivities).
We are each other's biggest fans, and we can never stay mad at each other long (as in longer than 5 minutes). We can ask each other for help and know that we can tell one another anything without being judged.
I have always loved spending time with Kameron - and the fact that he's been gone on a religious mission for two years has absolutely killed me every day (but only because I miss talking to him every day and seeing him at family events). I am so excited for all the great experiences he has had on his mission, but I can't wait for him to come home!
I love my little brother!
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Family - Blog 4: My Older Sister
The relationship I have with my older sister is not the traditional older-younger sister relationship. Because we grew up in separate households, we never had to endure any of the "that's my sweater" or "I saw him first, he likes me" type of conflicts. Because we were both totally surrounded by brothers in our separate households... I think we both probably imagined what it might be like to have a sister, living in the same house, to talk to.
For me, I know that sometimes I wished I had a sister to trade clothes with...or to give me hand me downs. There were times when having a sister to give me makeup or hair tips would have come in handy. I would have told a sister about my first kiss. It's not that brothers aren't great...they just don't care about that kind of stuff :)
I think that because my sister and I were raised far apart from each other, we have really come to appreciate the relationship we're able to have now. We don't have years of contentious memories that keep us from trusting each other. I can tell her all my secrets if I want, and know that they are locked up tight in the sister vault.
The most exciting thing about having an older sister is that she has all sorts of good advice. She has been where I am now. She can share in the excitement of getting married. And when she goes through childbirth she can tell me "it's not as bad as you think."
At least...that's what I hope she'll tell me. Either way, I know her babies will be cute and I will get to be an aunt ^_^
My older sister is beautiful and I love her!
For me, I know that sometimes I wished I had a sister to trade clothes with...or to give me hand me downs. There were times when having a sister to give me makeup or hair tips would have come in handy. I would have told a sister about my first kiss. It's not that brothers aren't great...they just don't care about that kind of stuff :)
I think that because my sister and I were raised far apart from each other, we have really come to appreciate the relationship we're able to have now. We don't have years of contentious memories that keep us from trusting each other. I can tell her all my secrets if I want, and know that they are locked up tight in the sister vault.
The most exciting thing about having an older sister is that she has all sorts of good advice. She has been where I am now. She can share in the excitement of getting married. And when she goes through childbirth she can tell me "it's not as bad as you think."
At least...that's what I hope she'll tell me. Either way, I know her babies will be cute and I will get to be an aunt ^_^
My older sister is beautiful and I love her!
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Special Announcement!
I know I am deviating from my "Family Blog" series to write this...and I apologize to those waiting to read the "Older Sister" blog which is certainly over-due...... however..... I have big news!
I'm Engaged!
Now sit back, relax and enjoy the story of Matt and Nikki:
Matt moved in across the street from me when I was 16. At the time, we were living in Sagamihara Japan. Matt's older brother was away on a deployment, and his sister in law was pregnant with her 3rd child - so he moved there to help her out in lieu of his brother's absence.
Two of his nephews are the same age as one of my younger brothers, and so my little brother referred to Matt as "Uncle Matt." Now - before I had met him I had assumed "Uncle Matt" was in his forties (because uncles are never hot or young...right?) I had about 1% interest in meeting him.
Then, one day, everything changed. After about 2 weeks of my mom telling me I'd really like "Uncle Matt", I found myself across the street returning a dish (or something) to their house. I had been in there by myself when low and behold, Matt walked in. He wasn't old. He wasn't gray. He certainly wasn't what I'd expected an "Uncle Matt" to look like. He was about 23 and a carbon copy of a young David Boreanaz.
He said, "Hi."
I said, "Hi... You must be 'Uncle Matt.'"
He said, "You must be Kam's sister"
I said, "That's the first time anyone has ever referred to me as Kam's sister (because I'm older than him). Nice to meet you."
Then I ran full speed across the street and back into my house. As soon as I landed in the living room I exclaimed, "I love him, and I'm going to marry him." My parents laughed - they knew exactly who I was talking about.
Of course, I was 16. He was 23. He had no plans to notice me any time soon... so I was the weird girl who lived across the street. I talked to him when I had to, avoided him the rest of the time, and sometimes peeked out the living room window to see what he was doing/if he was in the yard.
Me being me, I had no plans of letting him escape easily. On the day he left Japan, I managed to get him to fork over his email address. That felt like a victorious moment. I knew that as long as I kept communication with him at all throughout the rest of my high school career, that I'd be able to make my move later in my college career.
That's exactly what I did. We exchanged the rare IM's and emails. After my first couple of semesters of college, we exchanged enough IM's that I felt confident enough to ask for his cell phone number. Then I started bombarding him with texts which he hated but couldn't stop responding to. Gradually we became phone-call buddies, and one day I informed him of my plans to get on a plane to visit him. He didn't really get a say in the matter.
On March 7, 2008 I walked off the plane, straight up to Matt and kissed him square on the mouth.
----
The rest, as they say, is history....
Except a certain day last week - which I'm going to tell you about:
On Tuesday, Jun 2, Matt and I decided we wanted to go to Nantucket (as part of a long road trip we are currently on). We spent the morning walking around, renting a scooter, riding around the island, visiting a farm/market. We packed a picnic and took it to one of the many gorgeous beaches on the island. After lunch, we decided it would be fun to walk down by the water. After we'd walked a distance (I was feeling uncomfortably far from our stuff), Matt stopped me. He started acting kind of funny, and I thought maybe he wasn't feeling well or wanted to have a serious conversation.
Instead he started kissing me a lot, which is also unusual for him, and so I started laughing. Out of nowhere he pulled out a little box with a gorgeous ring and said some romantic things followed by, "will you marry me?"
I said, "Is this for real?" and then I said, "yes."
I was completely taken by surprise, and just when I thought I was about to cry I was overcome with a wave of smiley-ness. Instead, I jumped and danced around the beach. :)
And now, we are officially engaged. Ta-da!
I'm Engaged!
Now sit back, relax and enjoy the story of Matt and Nikki:
Matt moved in across the street from me when I was 16. At the time, we were living in Sagamihara Japan. Matt's older brother was away on a deployment, and his sister in law was pregnant with her 3rd child - so he moved there to help her out in lieu of his brother's absence.
Two of his nephews are the same age as one of my younger brothers, and so my little brother referred to Matt as "Uncle Matt." Now - before I had met him I had assumed "Uncle Matt" was in his forties (because uncles are never hot or young...right?) I had about 1% interest in meeting him.
Then, one day, everything changed. After about 2 weeks of my mom telling me I'd really like "Uncle Matt", I found myself across the street returning a dish (or something) to their house. I had been in there by myself when low and behold, Matt walked in. He wasn't old. He wasn't gray. He certainly wasn't what I'd expected an "Uncle Matt" to look like. He was about 23 and a carbon copy of a young David Boreanaz.
He said, "Hi."
I said, "Hi... You must be 'Uncle Matt.'"
He said, "You must be Kam's sister"
I said, "That's the first time anyone has ever referred to me as Kam's sister (because I'm older than him). Nice to meet you."
Then I ran full speed across the street and back into my house. As soon as I landed in the living room I exclaimed, "I love him, and I'm going to marry him." My parents laughed - they knew exactly who I was talking about.
Of course, I was 16. He was 23. He had no plans to notice me any time soon... so I was the weird girl who lived across the street. I talked to him when I had to, avoided him the rest of the time, and sometimes peeked out the living room window to see what he was doing/if he was in the yard.
Me being me, I had no plans of letting him escape easily. On the day he left Japan, I managed to get him to fork over his email address. That felt like a victorious moment. I knew that as long as I kept communication with him at all throughout the rest of my high school career, that I'd be able to make my move later in my college career.
That's exactly what I did. We exchanged the rare IM's and emails. After my first couple of semesters of college, we exchanged enough IM's that I felt confident enough to ask for his cell phone number. Then I started bombarding him with texts which he hated but couldn't stop responding to. Gradually we became phone-call buddies, and one day I informed him of my plans to get on a plane to visit him. He didn't really get a say in the matter.
On March 7, 2008 I walked off the plane, straight up to Matt and kissed him square on the mouth.
----
The rest, as they say, is history....
Except a certain day last week - which I'm going to tell you about:
On Tuesday, Jun 2, Matt and I decided we wanted to go to Nantucket (as part of a long road trip we are currently on). We spent the morning walking around, renting a scooter, riding around the island, visiting a farm/market. We packed a picnic and took it to one of the many gorgeous beaches on the island. After lunch, we decided it would be fun to walk down by the water. After we'd walked a distance (I was feeling uncomfortably far from our stuff), Matt stopped me. He started acting kind of funny, and I thought maybe he wasn't feeling well or wanted to have a serious conversation.
Instead he started kissing me a lot, which is also unusual for him, and so I started laughing. Out of nowhere he pulled out a little box with a gorgeous ring and said some romantic things followed by, "will you marry me?"
I said, "Is this for real?" and then I said, "yes."
I was completely taken by surprise, and just when I thought I was about to cry I was overcome with a wave of smiley-ness. Instead, I jumped and danced around the beach. :)
And now, we are officially engaged. Ta-da!
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Family - Blog 3: My Older Brother
The relationship I have with my older brother is strange...to say the least. We struggled to get along throughout our childhoods. I tattled too much. He unplugged the phone when I was trying to talk to my friends. We yelled at each other. I cried. He ignored me, I ignored him. I think we even went a good 4 years where we didn't talk to each other at all (but mostly because we were just so consumed with ourselves that we didn't bother to make the time to try and have a relationship).
But, despite our many conflicts, he has always been what an older brother should be. He got on my nerves (like an older brother should), he had cute friends (like an older brother should), he punched his friend in the face for making a rude comment to me (like an older brother should). He even played barbies with me once. When we weren't fighting, he always made me laugh.
These days he amazes me by his ability to eat 7 adult meal servings in a single sitting...somehow managing to turn all those calories into muscle. He has a peculiar sense of humor and his laugh is contagious. He always has advice if you need it. He's quick to apologize, too. He's a good friend, a handsome son of a gun and exactly what an older brother should be... and I love him!
But, despite our many conflicts, he has always been what an older brother should be. He got on my nerves (like an older brother should), he had cute friends (like an older brother should), he punched his friend in the face for making a rude comment to me (like an older brother should). He even played barbies with me once. When we weren't fighting, he always made me laugh.
These days he amazes me by his ability to eat 7 adult meal servings in a single sitting...somehow managing to turn all those calories into muscle. He has a peculiar sense of humor and his laugh is contagious. He always has advice if you need it. He's quick to apologize, too. He's a good friend, a handsome son of a gun and exactly what an older brother should be... and I love him!
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Family - Blog 2: My Mom
Moms are amazing. They gain 25+ pounds to bring us into the world, loving us unconditionally from conception even as we wage war against their bodies.
Moms tuck us into bed at night, clean up our messes, clean up our (yep) throw-up, wipe our bums and teach us to walk. They put bows in our hair, curl our bangs, pack our lunches, listen to us talk about our fights with our friends, take us shoe shopping and put band aids on our boo-boos.
Moms let us do weird things...like dipping pickles in koolaid, or eating juice out of a bowl with a spoon. Moms drive us to all our events, tell us stories of when they were little and sing us lullabies.
My mom did all of those things for me, and still does for my siblings...plus 1000x more. She deals with sister fights amongst my younger sisters (something I never had to deal with), a raging-hormonal teenage boy, takes the kids to early morning piano, cleans the house, prepares the meals, answers the phone whenever I call, pays the bills, and more. Between all this she finds time to plant a garden and do fun things with the kids.
My mom always let me bring my friends over. She didn't get mad when I snuck out the window to play outside on a Sunday. She didn't freak out when I wrote "angry notes" when she grounded me (give me a break, I was 8). She always answered the phone when I called her after lunch (pretty much every day) to tell her I had a stomach ache.
My mom is amazing and beautiful, and I love her.
Moms tuck us into bed at night, clean up our messes, clean up our (yep) throw-up, wipe our bums and teach us to walk. They put bows in our hair, curl our bangs, pack our lunches, listen to us talk about our fights with our friends, take us shoe shopping and put band aids on our boo-boos.
Moms let us do weird things...like dipping pickles in koolaid, or eating juice out of a bowl with a spoon. Moms drive us to all our events, tell us stories of when they were little and sing us lullabies.
My mom did all of those things for me, and still does for my siblings...plus 1000x more. She deals with sister fights amongst my younger sisters (something I never had to deal with), a raging-hormonal teenage boy, takes the kids to early morning piano, cleans the house, prepares the meals, answers the phone whenever I call, pays the bills, and more. Between all this she finds time to plant a garden and do fun things with the kids.
My mom always let me bring my friends over. She didn't get mad when I snuck out the window to play outside on a Sunday. She didn't freak out when I wrote "angry notes" when she grounded me (give me a break, I was 8). She always answered the phone when I called her after lunch (pretty much every day) to tell her I had a stomach ache.
My mom is amazing and beautiful, and I love her.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Family - Blog 1: My Dad
Dads are special. They teach you how to hold a hammer, build a fence, pitch a tent, not to play with fire and how hit a ball. They teach you how to be a graceful winner/loser, weed the back yard and use a leaf blower. Dads teach you how to budget your allowance, take you to scouts or daddy - daughter dances.
My dad taught me how to play well with others. He taught me the conditions under which it is okay to hit my siblings ("Dad! Kam is hitting me!" .... "Hit him back!") and when you shouldn't tattle on people. He taught me how to dance (no one dances quite like my dad!) and he taught me how to use chopsticks. My dad passed down his love for vampires, pizza, The Beatles, Elvis and Aerosmith to me.
My dad taught me how to harmonize. He taught me how to shop. He supports my decisions even when he doesn't agree with them.
My dad loves me, and I love him.
My dad taught me how to play well with others. He taught me the conditions under which it is okay to hit my siblings ("Dad! Kam is hitting me!" .... "Hit him back!") and when you shouldn't tattle on people. He taught me how to dance (no one dances quite like my dad!) and he taught me how to use chopsticks. My dad passed down his love for vampires, pizza, The Beatles, Elvis and Aerosmith to me.
My dad taught me how to harmonize. He taught me how to shop. He supports my decisions even when he doesn't agree with them.
My dad loves me, and I love him.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)