Hand in hand

Grumble

Oof. I'm looking into two--all of two--grad schools and already I feel overwhelmed. "Take the Praxis II test," one of them says. "No, take the WEST-E test," the other says. "The Praxis II is being fazed out." Well, which one do I take, people? "Oh, and by the way, that will be $200 for you to sit down for a few hours and scribble some answers on a piece of paper."

Peachy. Just peachy.

All I really want to do is think about Europe. Going there, that is. It might happen this September/October. I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but it's hard. The thought of seeing Prague, Paris, Rome, and all those other places that have been tantalizing me for years gives me chills.

I want to think about grad school too. I mean, I wouldn't be applying if I weren't excited about the idea. It's just that decisions--important, huge ones--are needing to happen, all within the next few weeks and months, and I'm slightly panicked. No, make that terrified. So, at this point, despite looking forward to grad school, despite being genuinely interested in becoming an elementary school teacher, all I really want to do is escape to Europe.

My kiddos!

I visited my 1st and 2nd graders yesterday... well, now many of them are 3rd graders, but that's beside the point. I walked into the room, and thirteen adorable heads turned around to see who was there. A few of their jaws dropped, and I heard someone say "she looks so different". Then they left their chairs and swarmed around me, asking if I remembered their names. Fortunately, I remembered most of them, except poor little Maddie. The thing is, I know her name, but in that moment I completely blanked. I felt so bad.

And then... Abel started pushing his way through the sea of kids, saying "watch out, coming through" and when he reached me he threw his chubby arms around my waist and hung on me--yes, hung--for a good thirty seconds. He hasn't changed a bit, I thought, as I struggled to keep from keeling over.

In those moments, I felt so content. I don't think I stopped smiling the entire time. After I'd patted enough backs, recited enough names, and received enough hugs, Tiffany suggested that I read to them for a while. That was always my responsibility last summer: I love to read and inflect my voice dramatically to keep the kids entertained. I joyfully agreed and perched on the stool at the front of the classroom. She handed me a book called Hatchet, and I read two chapters from it. A rather boring book, but the kids seemed to like it well enough. Only Abel and Cameron--and occasionally Cienna and Maddie--whispered to each other off and on, but otherwise everyone listened. Sooo different from last year. Last year, I swear they all had ADHD. :)

I left after only a half-hour, but I was thoroughly rejuvenated and ready to tackle this grad school/elementary ed thing I'm currently pursuing.

Two weeks and counting

I did it. I cut my hair. Six inches... GONE, just like that. I still see myself in mirrors and do a double-take. I haven't had short hair like this since I was nine years old, back in the day when I had messy bangs that made me look homeless. I'm not quite sure how I managed to get up the nerve to do this. I have been exceedingly vain about my luxuriant long hair for a long time.

I think I just needed a change. Physically, I mean. Everything else in my life seems to be changing. I'm graduating in two weeks. I have to say a permanent goodbye to my first love. I'll be moving off the SPU campus and into a house in Ballard. I'll be out in "the real world," as they say. And that terrifies me. Maybe cutting my hair was an attempt to create a new me, a more sophisticated, older me. Yet, I still feel like a lonely, scared 21-year-old girl. God, help me.

Here we go again

I never knew it was possible to miss him when he's right here beside me. I see him nearly every day. We laugh, we talk, we poke, we hug, we drive... but I miss him in anticipation of missing him. We'll graduate, he'll leave, and I'll still be here in Seattle, missing a huge part of me.

I'm giddy when I dance

I have days where all I want to do is dance. Can I please just take ballet again? Please???

I quit taking lessons when I was thirteen. My teacher was practically asking me to devote the rest of my life to being a dancer. I have a bunch of other things I'd like to devote my life to, thank you very much, and besides, squishing my toes into pink concrete shoes isn't exactly my idea of a lifelong hobby.

I love to tiptoe along curbs and anything else that allows me to use all those muscles ballet used to require. I love to flit from room to room, pretending that I am on stage performing in Swan Lake or Sleeping Beauty--those two ballets are the best EVER!

Dance movies just kill me. I watch them, and as the credits roll, I proceed to leap up and twirl around the room, sometimes with acquiescing roommates, sometimes watched by unbelieving eyes. Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. Granted, not the best movie in the world, but oh my WORD did it get me moving!

Step Up. Another not-so-great movie, but the dancing... that mixture of hip-hop and ballet just takes my breath away.

And An American in Paris. Now THAT is a good movie. And it has some of the most tender dancing scenes I've ever seen.

De-stressing, teapot-style

Have you ever felt like putting on a floofy dress, lying on the floor and holding a teapot over your head? I have. I do. If you're going to treat yourself to a momentary distraction from the frustrations of life, you might as well do it creatively.

Neverending

There is an ache inside of me. It's difficult to explain, but so very, very real. It's the ache of rejection, of love not returned. It's the ache of unshed tears that refuse to surface. The battle between what I know is right and what I want so desperately.

Is it wrong that I can still feel his lips on my cheek, the way I felt giddy and weightless and scared all at once?
Is it wrong that I see him smile at someone and my eyes fill with tears as I remember how he used to look at me?
Is it wrong that his name is constantly in my thoughts and no matter how hard I try I can't make it go away?

Part of me hates how much I love him. I hate that I would do anything for him if only he asked me. It's so painful to feel this way and know that he doesn't return the feeling.

I have prayed and prayed about this. God has shown me the countless reasons why I shouldn't be in a relationship with him, and I am fully convinced. And yet, I still cling, cling, CLING. I cried yesterday at the thought of never seeing him again after graduation. Graduation is more than six months away. My utterly pathetic self disgusts me.

I recently decided that I'm going to channel all these unproductive, ridiculous thoughts of him into something worthwhile and meaningful. I'm going to pray for him whenever his name comes to mind. I'm going to pray that he will meet with God in a very real and life-changing way. This is the most I can do, because for whatever reason God has not seen fit to relieve me of these thoughts and feelings. I'm okay with that, though, because I know that He knows what's best for me.

Looking back

Lately, I have been astonished at the way God reveals things to me. I have been meeting and observing a lot of guys who are spiritually mature and could be leaders in a relationship. And God whispers in my ear, "See, I have everything under control. If you follow Me, I will provide you with a man who complements you in every way and loves Me with all his heart."

More than anything, that's what I long for. I long for a guy who can lead me, who will inspire me to be the best that I can be. I know that can happen; I just need to exercise patience.

When I look back at this past year, I can see God's hand so clearly in everything that happened to me. My tears have ceased, and joy and peace are flooding my heart. All praise be to You, God.

Anticipating

One more day.
One more day until I move into my apartment with my three fabulous roommates!
This is going to be a great year...