I am doing a daily devotional in a book published by the Women of Faith. Its been a really good push into my own thoughts and feelings about my life as a Christian. One of the main points of the text is that no matter where we have been in our lives...good or bad... we are able to start over, begin a new day. And it isn't just meaning through baptism. It means everyday is a new day to get up and be better and do better as a family member, friend, employee...whatever it is you are...you can be better.
Shoot! I am glad everyday is a new day...I know I need a new start to everyday. Just ask my friends...they know I need a clean slate daily! I don't want to wake up and carry the porblems and burdens from one day to the next...who does? Baggage is a terrible burden...ugh...who wants to lug all that mess around? Who wants to hang out with someone that has alot of problems and drama? Drop the baggage at the check in, don't carry with you on the journey that is called your life! (cheesy I know, but it gets the point across...you know you got a visual!)
It is just crazy that at the age of 28, I feel as though I am getting a fresh start on life, even though not many things have changed outwardly: I am still a teacher/coach, still living with a dog, still living in the same town, still going to the same church. But I feel refreshed, new. And I am thankful for all of the new people He is bringing my way...the list is really too long...and I don't want to leave anyone out! I have been praying for friends lately and I can see where he is directing me. Change is scary!
I will share my everyday life with you. I love writing and actually seeing my thoughts on the page...so with the encouragement of my dear friend Sonja...I am finally writing again. Thank you for pushing me! I hope you all like the blog, I am excited to see where it takes me. Hope you get a laugh every now and then. I don't mind if you laugh at me...happens all the time.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Just One Day
I crawl out of bed to the screeching alarm clock at 6:10 a.m., which is really 6 a.m., I try to trick myself into getting ready faster. I shimmy into some old grey sweat pants, throw on a hoodie, (no one needs to see all that so early in the morning) and I stumble down the stairs as I wipe my sleepy eyes. Is this really necessary? My sweet little puppy has to be taken to the 4th corner of the earth to go potty, OK; maybe it's only the corner of the parking lot to the "Puppy Park". This is one of the many amenities my 'luxury' apartment provides, a special place for my little Frenchy to go potty.
I turn the shower on, down the vitamins for energy and appetite control. It makes me feel like I am doing 'something' for my health and well being. Shower seems to spur the senses to mid consciousness. Same old outfit, just a different color" old navy slacks, v-neck tee, and tennis shoes--comfort is the deciding factor, not fashion. Lawli slips into her kennel, watching her mommy cook breakfast, correction, the microwave heat up breakfast. Lean pocket, 2 minutes, weight watchers 6 points. Smart One out of the freezer, apple sauce, and a 100 calorie pack for lunch all into the back pack along with the workout clothes...ugh! ! !
The door clicks shut and it is back down the stains, back in the car with lean pocket in hand. "Is this it? Really?" I ask myself as I drive to school (work). Pulling into my spot for the day in the parking lot, I turn off my Acapella praise and worship music. Trying to prepare myself not to go psycho on a teenager. I head into the building , the building that smells like cheap, 100% bleach cleaner that always singes the nostrils. I laugh to myself thinking of my cousin Clayton.
Glade Hawaiian Breeze hits me, and its smells way better than stinky 12 & 13 year olds. But the peace and quiet and fresh smell will all vanish away when that bell rings at 7:25 and rings in a new school day.
dirty looks, lecturing. Students who have 6 teachers screaming, "Miss! Miss! Miss!" Because Miss Farrell or Coach seems to be too much for them to hold in their busy brains. But I, the teacher/coach, have over 120 students & athletes first names, last names, locker numbers, lunch numbers, test booklet numbers, where they sit in class, and their daily grade point averages in my brain, but "Miss Farrell" is way too much for the hormonal teenager to handle. Spitting out command after command. A discussion in the hall about poor behavioral choices and how there won't be a next time, because next time, somehow this teenage boy will actually stop and think before he shouts out something inappropriate next time....right.
Lunch with my co-teachers consists of discussing students, all of us eating diet food, but the diet food probably doesn't help when you eat 3 bags of the 100 calorie packs of Chips Ahoy cookies.
Lecture. Discuss. Grading. Entering grades. Answer the phone every 3 seconds. Parent emails. Grading.
The final bell rings to the end the day. There are 180 days of school. 180! ! !
Working out with the ladies after school is just more proof that 'Miss!' is completely out of shape and getting older. "Those vitamins better be working," runs through my head. "Ladies, you do realize I am not going to be able to sit down to go potty after today. I hope the same for the both of you as well!" Both Ruby and Hilary laugh, the two other teachers that have decided it is time to be motivated and get back into shape. I just wish my shape was no longer 'lumpy'.
Back home, I take the pup out once again and it is down and up the stairs, one stair at a time, legs are killing me from the work out. I am definitely not the 17 year old athlete I once was. Just a has been!
The fresh scent of Glade Relaxing Spa hits me only for a moment. Off with the tennis shoes. On with the TV, channel 30, back to back episodes of BONES. I like the show's leading lady, a strong, smart, beautiful woman...reminds me a bit of myself until I realize that I am a middle school teacher and that woman on TV is not a forensic anthropologist, but an actress.
"Really? This is it for me?'
This question is thrown around in my head several times a day...at least a "baker's dozen."
There are times when I was important or at least I thought I was important or at least special. A time in my life when I was wanted, not just by a 12 year old who doesn't want to do their own work, or an administrator that wants me to do something else on top of all the other stuff I have to do, or a disgruntled parent who wants to give me a piece of their mind. I mean really wanted, by friends who wanted to hang out with me, by guys who wanted to go out with me. But where did that all go? Is that what the college diploma really means? "Your life is over, you have a real job now?"
Oh wait! Teaching is not a "real" job according so some of my friends. "You get summers off. What do you really do all day? You work with kids, how hard can that be? You get off of work at 3." I squeeze my temples between my finger and thumb to try and numb the headache. To make the voices in my classroom, TV and people around me telling me I am done with go away.
This is it. But I think to myself, "Am I really the only 28 year old in the USA or state of TX that is single, a young professional, that during the stress of her job and becoming an official adult that has put on a small kindergartner in weight, that fixes dinner out of a frozen card board box. Am I really that rare? And if I am, I should be studied by a team of young scientist."
I turn the shower on, down the vitamins for energy and appetite control. It makes me feel like I am doing 'something' for my health and well being. Shower seems to spur the senses to mid consciousness. Same old outfit, just a different color" old navy slacks, v-neck tee, and tennis shoes--comfort is the deciding factor, not fashion. Lawli slips into her kennel, watching her mommy cook breakfast, correction, the microwave heat up breakfast. Lean pocket, 2 minutes, weight watchers 6 points. Smart One out of the freezer, apple sauce, and a 100 calorie pack for lunch all into the back pack along with the workout clothes...ugh! ! !
The door clicks shut and it is back down the stains, back in the car with lean pocket in hand. "Is this it? Really?" I ask myself as I drive to school (work). Pulling into my spot for the day in the parking lot, I turn off my Acapella praise and worship music. Trying to prepare myself not to go psycho on a teenager. I head into the building , the building that smells like cheap, 100% bleach cleaner that always singes the nostrils. I laugh to myself thinking of my cousin Clayton.
Glade Hawaiian Breeze hits me, and its smells way better than stinky 12 & 13 year olds. But the peace and quiet and fresh smell will all vanish away when that bell rings at 7:25 and rings in a new school day.
dirty looks, lecturing. Students who have 6 teachers screaming, "Miss! Miss! Miss!" Because Miss Farrell or Coach seems to be too much for them to hold in their busy brains. But I, the teacher/coach, have over 120 students & athletes first names, last names, locker numbers, lunch numbers, test booklet numbers, where they sit in class, and their daily grade point averages in my brain, but "Miss Farrell" is way too much for the hormonal teenager to handle. Spitting out command after command. A discussion in the hall about poor behavioral choices and how there won't be a next time, because next time, somehow this teenage boy will actually stop and think before he shouts out something inappropriate next time....right.
Lunch with my co-teachers consists of discussing students, all of us eating diet food, but the diet food probably doesn't help when you eat 3 bags of the 100 calorie packs of Chips Ahoy cookies.
Lecture. Discuss. Grading. Entering grades. Answer the phone every 3 seconds. Parent emails. Grading.
The final bell rings to the end the day. There are 180 days of school. 180! ! !
Working out with the ladies after school is just more proof that 'Miss!' is completely out of shape and getting older. "Those vitamins better be working," runs through my head. "Ladies, you do realize I am not going to be able to sit down to go potty after today. I hope the same for the both of you as well!" Both Ruby and Hilary laugh, the two other teachers that have decided it is time to be motivated and get back into shape. I just wish my shape was no longer 'lumpy'.
Back home, I take the pup out once again and it is down and up the stairs, one stair at a time, legs are killing me from the work out. I am definitely not the 17 year old athlete I once was. Just a has been!
The fresh scent of Glade Relaxing Spa hits me only for a moment. Off with the tennis shoes. On with the TV, channel 30, back to back episodes of BONES. I like the show's leading lady, a strong, smart, beautiful woman...reminds me a bit of myself until I realize that I am a middle school teacher and that woman on TV is not a forensic anthropologist, but an actress.
"Really? This is it for me?'
This question is thrown around in my head several times a day...at least a "baker's dozen."
There are times when I was important or at least I thought I was important or at least special. A time in my life when I was wanted, not just by a 12 year old who doesn't want to do their own work, or an administrator that wants me to do something else on top of all the other stuff I have to do, or a disgruntled parent who wants to give me a piece of their mind. I mean really wanted, by friends who wanted to hang out with me, by guys who wanted to go out with me. But where did that all go? Is that what the college diploma really means? "Your life is over, you have a real job now?"
Oh wait! Teaching is not a "real" job according so some of my friends. "You get summers off. What do you really do all day? You work with kids, how hard can that be? You get off of work at 3." I squeeze my temples between my finger and thumb to try and numb the headache. To make the voices in my classroom, TV and people around me telling me I am done with go away.
This is it. But I think to myself, "Am I really the only 28 year old in the USA or state of TX that is single, a young professional, that during the stress of her job and becoming an official adult that has put on a small kindergartner in weight, that fixes dinner out of a frozen card board box. Am I really that rare? And if I am, I should be studied by a team of young scientist."
Today
This is my first experience blogging, but I do love writing so I thought I would give it a shot! I do not have an exciting life in any way shape or form! Never the less, I am going to share its simplicity with the masses. Please enjoy!
I am happy. Happy with the simple life of teaching and coaching and a 4A middle school in East Texas. I love my one bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor. My roomie is the best roommate ever, except when she has strone all of her toys all over the living room. Lawli is a 1 year old french bulldog. I also live in the same small college town as my wonderful mother and my favorite aunt, Susy.
As a 28 year old, single teacher, I do ask myself many times, "Really? Is this it for me? For the rest of my life? Really?"
And at times, I feel as though it is. And at others I see my life changing, not necessarily my name in lights, but changing, moving, happening. But for now, I will be happy and content with my job, apartment, and my dog.
I am happy. Happy with the simple life of teaching and coaching and a 4A middle school in East Texas. I love my one bedroom apartment on the 3rd floor. My roomie is the best roommate ever, except when she has strone all of her toys all over the living room. Lawli is a 1 year old french bulldog. I also live in the same small college town as my wonderful mother and my favorite aunt, Susy.
As a 28 year old, single teacher, I do ask myself many times, "Really? Is this it for me? For the rest of my life? Really?"
And at times, I feel as though it is. And at others I see my life changing, not necessarily my name in lights, but changing, moving, happening. But for now, I will be happy and content with my job, apartment, and my dog.
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