If there's one striking characteristic about me, it's the fact that I can be...well...a bit obsessive about things I like. I tend to operate in two modes: all or nothing. My parents and siblings know this all too well. When Amy Grant's "Lead Me On" album came out in 1988, I forced them to listen to the song "Saved by Love" over and over despite the fact that doing so meant I had to rewind the cassette tape each time. I think it was more than a year before I listened to any of the other songs on the album. Some things never change. I still find myself getting stuck on a single song and playing it over and over. (The creators of the iPod had no idea what the repeat feature would one day mean for me!) I mentioned the Spanish group Lori Meyers in my last post, and I cannot over emphasize how much I love their music. From the moment I heard the first chord of one of their songs, I knew I had found my soul's music. All week I've listened to their song,...

I spent a few nights this week searching for flights to Europe. Pearl Jam is playing there this summer, and it seemed like a really great idea to fly over for a few days to be part of a music festival. I mean, that's right up there at the top of everyone's priority list, right? I'll actually be in Peru for the bulk of PJ's European tour, and the three dates that would work for me are in Bilboa (Spain), Venice (Italy), and Lison (Portugal). That trip isn't going to happen (even I won't pay the kind of money it will take), but in the process I discovered some new music groups: Lori Meyers and Amaral . Both are from Spain, and both are fantastic. (The Spaniard also introduced me to some great ear candy: Amy MacDonald .) Unfortunately, finding music that is popular in Europe isn't always easy here in the states. I did buy a Lori Meyers CD from an Amazon seller. iTunes doesn't carry anything. In the frustrating process, though, I did discover a gem of site:...

Nadia and I were chatting on the phone this afternoon, and I shared with her one of the great realizations I had this week. I will never be able to hear the way English sounds to a non-speaker. Never. Nunca. Jamás. Like usual, Nadia laughed at both the thought of the idea and the fact that I'm a little sad about this. She tried to give me examples from other languages and even offered to have her mom tell me what it's like. Yet, not even that will fix this problem. The point is that I will never be able to hear with my own ears the sounds of English as a foreign language. Sigh. So I wonder how I would react to it. Would I laugh? Would I cringe? Would I tune out the sounds of morphemes and phonemes? Would I fall in love with it just because it was different from what I already know? Thinking about this now makes my brain feel the same as it does when I try to imagine the size of the universe or the infinity of time. I know it's there. I want to understand it. I hate that it...

I'm supposed to be writing now. When I told a friend of mine about my three business ideas, he asked, "What about the writing?" I shared this with someone else who asked what's holding me back from writing. He proceeded to tell me that if writing is my gift, I have an obligation to share it with the world. I mentioned to another friend the fear that holds me back from writing, and his response was, "That's bullshit. Your abilities are not up for debate." Today was a rainy day, and it was perfect for sitting in my pajamas with some coffee or wine and exploring the world of my characters and what I want to say about life. It was interrupted by some rollerskating and quick outlet shopping, but I did manage to get back into the pjs. I'm supposed to be writing now. I tried. I started putting together a short story called "Spanish Tortilla", but the words argued that they should be an essay instead of a short story, and I just couldn't handle...

Ah, Peru! The countdown has started. There are 8 weeks left in the school year, and 11 days later, I will step on the ground in the southern hemisphere. My friends and family routinely remind me about how dangerous this trip is. I've heard more horror stories about Peru than I could have imagined. Apparently, everyone knows someone who has lived in Peru and has made it very clear to my friends and family that I am crazy for even considering a solo vacation there. It's like women who love to share with newly pregnant women their labor stories about how they almost died in the delivery room. Or the woman who, in 2006, adamantly insisted that the spider bite on my leg meant that I would surely lose my leg to flesh-eating bacteria. I suppose I should confess that my right is artificial because that's the only possible result of a spider bite, right? No es verdad. My major concern about traveling alone to Peru is language. I studied Spanish in college (and was even begged by my ...

Sigh. It's Friday night, and I'm freaking out just a bit. Do you remember when I mentioned the ridiculously itchy skin ? I'm afraid it might be an allergic reaction to hair dye. If you know me well, you know just how devastating this news might be. I like to color my hair. My friends often joke that no one knows for sure what my natural hair color is or if I really have gray hair or not. Yeah, I color it that often. This is bad. Before I launch into a completely neurotic frame of mind that will land me in my stylist's chair to strip the color out of my hair and buy a lifetime supply of PPD-free hair color, I will point out that I do tend to get side-tracked very easily by what ifs . What I'm feeling right now could just as easily be a sympathetic reaction to seeing my co-worker break out in hives today. It could also be chalked up to too much time on the Internet reading hair dye allergy stories and not enough time doing laundry tonight. Nonetheless, my mind is raci...

Have I ever mentioned the dream I had a few years ago in which one of my dearest friends and I sat on a couch snuggled under a hand-crocheted afghan eating ravioli out of cans and watching cartoons on t.v.? That particular dream scene has been etched into my memory for nearly three years now. I find myself thinking about it from time to time. To me, it represents the ultimate in comfort. The life-long friendship. The hand-made blanket. The comfort food. There's a peace there that warms me, even in my memory. I'm thinking about it this morning. Obviously. I spent yesterday afternoon with a friend of mine who is from Spain. At one point we ended up talking about Saved by the Bell and how we used to watch it after school and tried to mimic the hair and clothing styles from the show. Who would have thought that separated by the Atlantic Ocean, we each shared an experience that would years later create a bond? Shall we all salute Zach Morris now? I pulled out some photographs from h...

Yesterday I drove to Orlando so my dad could take care of my tax return for me. I also stopped by to see my friend, Sarah, at her new gym. Sarah has recently started taking pole dancing classes. I have been intrigued, especially after hearing her for weeks rave about these classes and how she feels while taking them. She's thrown out words like, "Alli, I've never felt sexier" and "I climbed a 16-foot pole tonight" (said with the same enthusiasm I will expect to hear after she climbs Mt. Kilimanjaro.) How could I not want to know more about this? I walked through the well-covered door of Vixen Fitness in Orlando and was greeted with deliciously feminine pink walls and a dimly lit room lined with two rows of shiny silver poles. Everything about this place screams, "GIRL!" and for the first time in my life, I think I felt completely comfortable with that. The class itself was enjoyable and challenging in ways I never dreamed imaginable. I wasn't ...

I had a personal epiphany this week. I'm desperately afraid of having nothing to do. This is why I keep myself ridiculously busy and why I procrastinate. Yep, in the back of my mind, knowing that there's a sink full of dishes to do just in case I can't get in to see a movie is a bit comforting. So I always like to have a sink full of dirty dishes waiting for me. The only reason I'm mentioning this is because I think it's affected my creativity. I was talking with a friend of mine earlier this week about the three historical people we would go back in time to meet. (In case you're wondering, my response was Mozart (to party with him), Jesus, and Thomas Jefferson...in no particular order.) His response (including Adam so he could find out what it was like to be created instead of born) blew me away. I felt completely inadequate. Party with Mozart?!? What was I thinking? There are so many deep, philosophical ideas to explore...and I chose PARTY WITH MOZART? As I th...

The first day of spring break is nearing it's end, and I'm exhausted. This is the way I usually feel about this time on a Monday night, but I didn't wake at 4:45 this morning and wrangle with teenagers for 8 hours. I mean, nothing is more exhausting than that, right? Apparently, driving for 4 hours to meet your teen hero is just as tiring. I found out yesterday that Amy Grant was going to be in Brandon today signing autographs. Everyone who knows me knew that even my muddy road and pouring rain wouldn't keep me away from this. There are three people in this world who I would risk the dangers of old people driving on the interstate in Sarasota to meet. She's one of them (followed by Eddie Vedder and Glenn Beck). It was a fun day. In line I talked to a woman about the silly things we did to imitate Amy as teenagers. She tried a perm. I made my own leopard print jacket. We agreed that Lead Me On is still her best album and learned how to operate each other's camera...

This is a contemplative morning for me, and there's a lot rumbling around in my head. I'm not at work today because I am finally going in to see the doctor about this itchy skin. I've spent the morning correcting papers and listening to Led Zeppelin. Does it really get any better than that? For the last few days, I've had an idea for a poem floating around in my head. (Monday morning, I scribbled the opening lines on an index card right in the middle of teaching a lesson on the dangers of living in Alaska.) I think it finally came together this morning, and I'll be honest with you. I don't normally have much an emotional reaction to my own writing, but this one brought tears to my eyes. Part of me feels like I haven't done the concept here the justice it deserves, and there's always the chance that I'll elaborate a bit more. For now, though, I need to share this. My kindred, is it enough to know you're part of the world that we'll...

Me: Why do you think people choose to live or camp in Alaska? Student: Because they want to have fun there. Me: What do you think people do for fun in Alaska? Student: Play with bears. Tutor: What kind of game do you play with bears, hide and seek? Me: I think it's more like Tag.

I remember the days when poetry used to ooze from my veins. I could think of whatever moment I wanted to capture and turn it into lines of metaphors and alliteration. What happened? I think it has something to do with way too much going on at work and the fact that Spanish seems to be overtaking my brain these days. (Seriously, I'm answering people in Spanish.) My art group met tonight, and I shared what random lines and ideas I had. I felt so vulnerable there, offering my meager contributions to the group. Fortunately, I was in the company of artists who were so accepting and encouraging, and I needed that camaraderie. I think I also needed half a bottle of Australian cab and a few tostones. Although I'm sure this poem is nowhere near finished, and I will tweak it some more between tonight and our meeting at the BEACH tomorrow evening for some sunset filming, I will share here what I have. The first voice is the boat captain (el capitan de barco). The second is a woman. He gav...

I just got back from a planning meeting for my Collaborative Arts Experiment group. This is a project put together by my friend (and hair genius), Katelyn. Basically, a group of artists from different media are placed in a group, given a prompt, and must put together some form of multi-media presentation. All this must be done in a week. My group consists of a visual artist, three writers, and two dancers. Our prompt is, "This is the story of two outsiders who find common ground when..." Then we have a list of random concepts/objects that should be embedded in the presentation. We toyed around tonight with some ideas and seem to have landed on a rough idea that involves poetry in different voices, conceptual dance, and sound/light. At the moment, our two outsiders are loosely based on my vignette "El Capitan de Barco" from the "La Isla Encontrada" book. I think I am going to turn the scene into a poem that captures the two people and what connects them, an...

I've been setting in motion the wheels for my transition out of public education and into my true call in life: writing. It's not been a particularly easy (or quick) move for me. In fact, the main reason I decided to start teaching was because I thought that the hours would give me time to write. That was seven years ago. During that time I've done my fair share of editing and freelance work. I've even published a short story and almost finished the manuscript for a trade book. I have notebooks here filled with all sorts of ideas and outlines. The problem is that I don't always believe in my own talent and want everything completely perfect before sharing it with the world. Since the divorce, though, I've found myself oddly comfortable in my own skin. I'm standing up for myself more and have embraced the all important question, "What do YOU want?" The answer has been slowly emerging, rising to the surface of the still waters that run so deep in my ...

Me: I've been listening to music in Spanish lately to train my ear to pick up the language. Alicia: How's that working? Me: Estoy practicando espanol porque voy al Peru en Junio. Alicia: How do you say "dork" in Spanish? Rachel: Allison

As usual, it's been a busy week around these parts, and none of my activities this week involved running. If my grandmother could hear at the moment and complete a sentence without hacking up a lung, she'd ask me what's wrong. I'd have to confess that my eczema has flared up in this oh-so-cold-there's-ice-on-my-car south Florida weather, and my skin is so itchy that I have bruises up and down my limbs from all the scratching I've been doing. There are some days I'm relieved to know men with calloused hands. (Before you take that last comment too seriously, remind yourself that I am writing this at 9:30 on a Friday night.) Anyway... I met up for coffee with someone last night who proved to stoke my creative juices. I'll spare you the details of the conversation, but I did have to stop him mid sentence to point out that that particular conversation will most definitely become part of "La Isla Encontrada." Fortunately, he agreed to it, and I fully...

I had an interesting (yet brief) conversation last night about the meaning of life which took an winding path through the concept of existentialism and Christian faith. It ended with the realization that there must be some meaning because without it, everything is pure coincidence. One look at the night sky puts the entire notion of coincidence in this world to rest. In the process, I attempted to explain some of my belief system which is very different, in many ways, from the faith I was introduced to as a child. It has certainly evolved through the heartache and challenges and joys of my life in this world. Most people don't get what I try to explain, and I'll be honest...it's not easy for me to explain. My faith is completely experiential. As such, the words don't always come easily. I'm not even sure I can explain it here, but those who know me best seem to understand what I cannot describe. In the end, that's okay with me because it's all part of that p...

Last night I drifted with the stars. I wanted to hear their dark and soulful songs. I wished upon them as morning neared. Their mystery charged my restless spirit. Today I walked along the rails. I want to ride a train to anywhere. I'll follow the tracks where they choose to roam. The trail winds up where it needs to go. Tomorrow I'll wander the desolate shore. I want to see just what unfolds. I'll jump in where I find my peace. The waves will lead to untold possibilities.