This morning, I started writing an end of the year post, but everything was so negative that I couldn't bring myself to do it. It's been a long time since I have felt this way, and in all honesty, I really didn't like it. I don't like being negative because it's such a wasted emotion. Yet, I guess it's where I am in life. 2013 was a difficult year for me, and when I tried to look back at it, each experience was wrapped in the white noise that has occupied my brain for most it. Even the highlights of the year: getting married and international travel and living were awash in the work and stress and exhaustion that overwhelmed me. Seriously, I made some big mistakes and failed to pay attention to the lessons life was trying to teach. This certainly is not where I expected to be at this point in my life, but that's true for all of all. But...it's 2014 now. Perhaps I'll poke my head through these clouds of exhaustion and white noise and do what I k

A long-time friend of mine recently went to Peru to hike the Inca Trail. I so enjoyed following the adventures, reminiscing about my own there, and sharing with him some tidbits I learned along the way. He recently posted all his pictures on Facebook, so I decided to go through mine. Peru. Spain. Dominican Republic. Four years. Three continents. As I looked at the photos and read the running commentary of my vacation adventures, I realized just how much I like to share the mundane with everyone. Seriously, thank you so much for indulging me and thank you even more for sharing the little moments of your life that could be the focus of a Seinfeld episode. It made seem like nothing more than a cup of coffee, a new pair of shoes, or cute things your kids say, but the honesty of the mundane is refreshing and ties us together deeper than any of us realize. For now, I need to fold some laundry and scribble out some lines of poetry in my head. I hope to have something to share with you lat

I came across this poem today that just blew me away. "Learning" (Jorge Borges) After a while one learns the subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul, and one learns that love is not physical, and a partner does not mean security, and one starts to learn... that kisses aren't contracts and presents aren't promises and one starts to accept his losses with a tall head and open eyes, and one learns to make paths today*** because tomorrow's lands are not secure enough for plans and dreams have a way of falling apart along the way. And after a while one learns that even a little sun can burn. So one plants his own garden and adorns his own soul in place of waiting for someone else to bring the flowers. And one learns that one really can go on, that one really is strong, that one really is worthy, and one learns and learns... and each day one learns. ***I had trouble translating this line because it doesn't translate

I spent some time this afternoon searching for music to use in one of my classes tomorrow. We need to have a discussion about how writers use diction and metaphor, and music with cerebral lyrics is perfect for this time of conversation. As I went through the list of songs that used to be on the iPod that followed me to Peru and Spain and more morning runs than I care to count, I stopped at "I Am Mine." The north is to south like the clock is to time. There's east and there's west and there's everywhere life. I've always loved this particular lyric, but until today, I never took time to think about what it says. If north and south are opposite directions, what does this say about the relationship between clocks and time. This is such an interesting concept to me. As an American, I grew up in a culture that believes time is money. I have frequently lamented to others that I'd rather have money stolen than time because time is the only commodity

I spent the entire drive to work yesterday morning complaining about the group of students that has frustrated me so much. My friend commiserated with me because he knows them well and had a similar experience with them. It's a lovely little metaphor about repeating the same mistakes because you don't learn from the lessons that bash you in the head. When I arrived at work, all faculty members were called into a meeting. In a school, this is never a good sign. This means that something bad happened during night...something bad enough that the administration is willing to leave every student in the school completely unsupervised. It means someone died. Sure enough, four of our students were in an accident the night before. Three died instantly; one crawled out and was in intensive care. The surviving student sits in one of my classes. One of dead was in my class last year. I knew the other two. I've been through far too many students deaths, but this was the first tha

It's been a rough week for me. Homecoming. I wish I could just say that word and the Earth would bow its head in reverence of how completely exhausting the days of breathing paint fumes, checking butts for glitter, rehearsing cheesy skits, and creating strategies for winning competitions can be. This has been a most challenging Homecoming for me. I have a class filled some very smart, talented kids who think they know everything. Yes, I know this is a common trait with teenagers, but this group has cornered the market on this one. Each one knows exactly what is the best idea and unabashedly criticizes all other ideas. Then they openly fight about it. It's like watching a dog fight as the verbal claws come out and they strike each other, waiting until the other parties finally give up out of desperation. On top of this, my favorite group from last year has turned into one of the most obnoxious groups I have ever seen. (As I type this, I remember that they told me they were g

I spent some time with my dear friend, Kaitlyn, yesterday as she chopped and glossed and shaped my hair into the glorious being that it is today. We have such a great time together, and I always leave those appointments wondering why I wait so long between cuts. As we caught up on the latest developments in our lives, I shared with her my not-so-adventurous adventures in New England this summer. She pointed out how much I love traveling alone, and she's so right. I. Love. Being. Alone. It's such a glorious feeling. Today, after I ran a few much needed errands, I stopped at Pollo Tropical for lunch. Inside. Alone. I ordered my rice and beans bowl from the kid's menu and searched for a table in the very busy restaurant. I sat at a two-top between two different pairs of diners and dipped into my bowl of Latin-flavored beans and rice. That was bliss. As I ate and watched the other diners and eavesdropped on their conversations, I was taken back to that little place in

I'm in the middle of a marathon writing session about the history and influence of the Italian language, Italian grammar, and some aspects of Italian culture. It's actually been a really fun project for me because it combines the great loves of my life (language and culture) and feels more like an intellectual hobby than my second job. Fun stuff, right? I had to take a break from the writing to rant a bit about cultural misconceptions. I'm currently researching information about traditional Italian food, and I was already prepared to read about myths and misunderstanding posing as truth on the Internet. (Sometimes I think the only reason the Internet exists is as a format for people to share all their misinformation.) The first site that appeared in the search engine was a link to a slideshow that shows why Italian cuisine is so healthy. As soon as I saw the phrase "Mediterranean diet," I know the entire piece was bullshit. First, I have spent a considerable a

It's funny the way life works sometimes. Two years ago, in August, I was still sorting through the summer's chaos in the wake of my Spain trip. The phone call I received the morning of July 13 while I was in the middle of cooking some Brazilian-style rice and beans completely shook my world. I still remember how I survived on bottles of Coca Cola and the two weeks of sleeplessness and questions and endless phone calls in which I asked "Why?" a million times. The worst part of that experience was having no way to find the answers I so desperately needed. The song, "Chances" by Five for Fighting was rather prominent for me in the year leading up to that fateful day. At that point in my life, I was so open to experiencing the moments of my life as they presented themselves. It just seemed to make so much sense that there were no guarantees, and that I couldn't let that fact ruin the opportunities I did have. Nothing lasts forever, no matter how it feels t

It's time to write again. This blog is my mental form of running. It lets me sort through the thousands of ideas running through my head at any given moment and gives them the chance to become more than figments of my imagination. I need them to be more than figments of my imagination. So, it's time to write. I spent most of the summer in the Dominican Republic with my husband and his family and arrived home last Sunday at about this time. On the plane, I chatted a bit with my seat mates, and one of the conversations we had was about the value of traveling. One of them mentioned that every teenager in the United States should be required to live overseas for a few months as a high school graduation requirement. I agree completely. There's something about being immersed in a different culture that lets you understand your own on a deeper level. The more time I spend there, the more I appreciate where I come from and the values that have been instilled in me. However,

Four years ago, I made the decision to wake up in a different country each June 23. It was my way of celebrating my then newfound freedom. Peru. Spain. Dominican Republic. We've had some amazing trips together in this journey. This year, though, I will be waking on June 23 in Florida--on my way to New Hampshire for a week. When I realized the date, I was struck with an odd combination of sadness and bliss and almost considered how I could wake up in Santo Domingo before flying to Boston. Then I realized that I don't have to do anything. It's the end of an era in my life, and it's the beginning of a new one. This new one is so much better, and I was reminded of this again today. I've been trying to get back into an exercise routine, and the goal right now is to DO something each day. For the last week and a half, I've been doing a circuit of 3 types of push ups, squats, pulses, mountain climbers, and burpees. Doing the exercises is not a big deal; doing them in f

It's officially Monday, and in 8 hours, I will load up my rental car and drive to the airport. I'll be with my husband for the next 13 days before I return home for two weeks for a conference and some other work. Then I'll spend the remainder of the summer with him. This is when I am so grateful for a career that gives me these chunks of free time. Without it, this process would be so much more difficult. This is already difficult enough. We live in two separate countries. We have two houses. Two beds. Two computers. All my life, I have viewed marriage as the institution that makes two become one. I understand now why this is such an important concept. You're supposed to be one. One house. One bed. One computer. I wish the United States government understood this. Instead, we are stuck in limbo land waiting for the official word of whether or not they believe we are a real married couple. It's bad enough that we are forced to live apart for now. When I'm in

My skin is already itching. My head is ready to explode. I just yelled at the dog because she licked her lips, and the sound made me want to rip my skin off my body. I hate May. So please forgive me for not writing more, but I have typed and erased and typed and erased for 15 minutes now. Not even the words from my heart are satisfying.

It seems that my latest crisis is my very limited wardrobe. When I made the decision to only wear skirts, I failed to account for the forgiving nature of the fabric. My lower body quickly picked up on that fact that it can easily hide beneath the layers, and now I have 3 pairs of pants that fit them. Two of them are sweats that I attempt to mask as casual pants. It's a little sad, and I'm ashamed to admit this. It's true, though. I decided to start working out again. My schedule lately has not allowed much free time, so I made the deal with myself to just do whatever I can. The rest will follow in time. Last night, a friend of mine and I decided to go to our long abandoned Zumba class. I'm still surprised that I actually suggested it, but it just seemed to work better last night. Here's the thing. I don't really like Zumba. The instructor is entertaining, and the crowd is friendly and non-judgmental. We laugh at ourselves in the mirror and  I'd much

I just returned from a week in the Dominican Republic. Each time I am there, I get a chance to do something I never get to do at home...SLEEP. My darling loves his sleep, and although I will never understand anyone's desire to waste more time than necessary in a bed, I do give in when I am with him. That means I get my traditional 6 hours of sleep and spend the rest of my time watching the incredibly peaceful look on his face...and thinking. I think a lot when I'm there. I've been struggling lately with the whole concept of "meant to be", and I think I have finally discovered what it is that bothers me so much about it. It's another situation in which we ascribe different criteria to different situations as a way to justify our own prejudicial ideas. Lately, this has manifested in some well-intended advice from others to "let God handle it". I did...but what happened wasn't what they expected God to do. Ergo, I clearly have not let God handle

The other day I discovered that one my favorite comedies, Trailer Park Boys, is going to be leaving Netflix on March 1. Since then, I've been frantically watching the entire series. There's something about the ensemble of people and the raunchy antics that makes me feel a little nostalgic. I grew up around those kinds of people, and while I don't agree with their life choices, I do understand that people do desperate things when they're in desperate situations. It's life. So I decided to see if I could find my childhood best friend online. In the process I stumbled upon her brother and his family. I still remember their wedding at a little independent Baptist church. Fresh in my memory is the day they moved away and the time they ate in the restaurant where I once worked. A lot of life has passed by in those 26 years, and they're still together. Everything indicator was stacked against them...and they defied them all. What stuck with me is that we really hav

And yet...      it almost didn't happen. In the end, though...      it was perfect. Santo Domingo...      holds my heart. Now hand in hand...      en buenas y malas.

I've been thinking a lot about faith lately. My sister has been going through some serious soul searching for the first time in her life. The other night she stumbled across Charles Stanley preaching on anxiety, and this turned her to the Bible which she has now been devouring. It seems to have slowed the rash of thoughts plaguing her. If you've ever spent days or weeks in that seemingly never ending cycle of obsessive thoughts, you know how relieved I am for her. She's not alone in this. I've not had the obsessive thoughts waking me in the wee hours of the night or hijacking my day, but I've been going through my own little drama in my head. A little over a year ago, I met a man very much by chance. You probably don't really know this story. He had messaged me online through a social media site, and we chatted a little through messages and the phone. He was considerably younger than me, but seemed sweet enough--a nice change from the other men who had been

It's 3 a.m. on a school night. I'm still awake. I'm still writing. I'm still trying to figure out if I have another pair of pants I can wear to work tomorrow so I don't have to take the time to shave my legs. Therein lies the problem. I can't seem to find any clothes. Over the last year, my hindquarters have swollen like they've been eating too many pretzels and peanuts. I own two pairs of pants that somewhat fit me. I really don't want to shave my legs. This is not a new problem. I've been aware of my decreasing wardrobe for a few months now, but until I faced this leg shaving dilemma, it just didn't seem like *that* big of a deal. On top of that, I've been trying to get pregnant for the last year, so losing weight wasn't a huge priority for me. So here I am. Naked. Childless. Alone. And unhappy. I know that we're supposed to look on the inside and cultivate gratitude for our lives, but the truth is that I just don't fe

A few weeks ago, in a "I just finished writing that final paper for the class from hell" euphoria, I put in a bid for a writing project. They were providing the research, and I figured I could knock it out in a weekend--or at the very least in the evenings when the mid-term exam schedule freed me from my usual evening duties of paper grading or lesson development. It's been an interesting project and WAY more than I ever anticipated. The research they provided me was virtually useless. (It's difficult to turn 150 words on a topic into 400 words without sounding like one of my students ostentatiously using adjectives to cover their lack of understanding.) So I've been parked on my sofa for what feels like the last ten years of my life, taking mini breaks to do laundry or wash dishes. The worst part, though, is that the process of writing--even writing these silly biographies--has sparked my creativity that seems to have been dormant for the last year. I've