Staying up late

Vacations are wonderful.  We should have more of them!

On average, we have been going to bed at around 12:30 or 1 a.m. for the past three nights because of games.  On Wednesday night, we played Settlers of Catan; Thursday, we played Guitar Hero; Friday, we played Bang.  Luckily, I could wake up anytime I wanted the next morning!  Going back to school on Monday is going to be tough.

Finally, we were able to mail out about 100 cards today!  We started working on the "thank you" cards for our wedding back in July, but it's been at a stalemate for some time.  It's a good thing people are generally understanding and give newly weds a one-year grace period to write these cards.  :)

Blackouts

This week I experienced two blackouts. 

Monday morning: a manhole exploded a couple streets away from my school, so they shut off electricity in the immediate vicinity; consequently, school was canceled and all enjoyed a pre-Thanksgiving day-off. 

Last night, J and I, along with two friends from our house church, enjoyed a quiet evening at Qdoba's, followed by an "Advent Pre-funk" at our place.  While in the midst of reading Scripture and meditating on the world which is to come, the power went out. 

The first candle of Advent had been lit, and for the next hour or so, we sat around the candlelight in pitch darkness, admiring the flame's beauty and enjoying the warmth of conversation.  Without electricity, we felt naked and helpless, yet because we were in the company of a single light source that was unaffected by the power outage, we felt secure. 

Prior to the blackout, the candlelight danced fervently to capture our attention, but we did not notice it because we were focused on other tasks.  Yet when the entire room suddenly turned pitch black, the only thing that captivated our attention was the candlelight, which became the centerpiece of conversation. 

A sudden moment of clarity.

Modern life, with its bright lights, instant messages, and disposable materials, can make us lose sight of our light/life source.  While we're busy looking in every which direction, the candlelight dances and bides its time. 

Run.

Yesterday I worked out at the YMCA for the first time.  It was strange to be in my stretchy pants and work out clothes, all the while self-conscious that my students would somehow recognize me.  Most of them play ball in the gym, and with plenty of windows all around the elliptical machines, I would be hard pressed to escape their notice.  I thought I was free until I looked up to see a toothy grin staring at me through the window. 

[caught]

At this time, I should probably strap on my gym shoes and head out for a jog. The weather is too nice to pass.

Good thing it takes blogging to motivate me.

See ya!

Dreams, strange ones

I had an appointment at 4 p.m. with my former piano teacher, yet I had time to kill. Therefore, my mother dropped me off at the local thrift store to shop for shoes. She was supposed to be back in time to take me to my lesson, yet at 4:12, she was still no where in sight. When I found her eventually, she seemed oblivious to my predicament, at which point I unleashed a volley of invectives.

As soon as those harsh words escaped from my mouth, I awoke from my dream. My first thought: it's Sunday. My second thought: I didn't do any work yesterday so I have to work today. My third thought: I hate work. My fourth thought: "Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." I felt immediately convicted and confused, as if this dream was supposed to have some spiritual significance. I usually don't read much into my dreams since they usually don't make sense, yet this one is making me pause.

The strangest part of this dream was that even as I was yelling at my mother, I felt a sense of guilt welling up inside. This incident could have been avoided if I had simply told my mother about this appointment ahead of time, and I also could have sought her out earlier rather than wait around for her to pick me up. As I was yelling at her in my dream, I realized this truth. Yet it felt good to unleash my anger on someone else and it was much easier to blame others than to take responsibility for my own actions.

This particular thought hit home as I realized the way I have been approaching work lately. My mind has been drifting between two worlds: the present, laborious, day-in, day-out tasks of lesson planning, grading papers, and going to meetings vs. the amorphous future that ever titillates my imagination. My approach to work these days has been to put off responsibility whenever possible, since I am too tired or otherwise preoccupied to do what I'm supposed to do.

"Whatever you do, do all to the glory of God." This reminder both convicts yet annoys me. It's easier said than done.

A page out of my journal: February 10, 2005

Surely, meeting this guy has not changed my life, but it has infused a
fresh perspective in me. Being a teacher is being able to see the
potential in another person, even when he or she cannot see it within
him/herself. This guy was able to get out of selling drugs and living
a "messed-up" life because one of his former teachers called him out.
But being able to see someone's potential is not enough. A teacher
must have the courage to speak truth, to provide opportunities for
growth, and to be patient even when people don't respond well.

Sometimes I get this inkling that I will be severely challenged, maybe
even persecuted some day down the road. Though right now I am
comfortable, I don't imagine things will be always be this way.
Comfort leads to apathy. I do not ever want to be apathetic, for
apathy kills the soul.


What happens when you realize that your older self is wiser than your current self and you have become the very person you vowed never to become? What happens when you grow cynical and tired, and the brightness of yesterday's ideals have been dimmed due to the dreary circumstances of today? What happens when you begin to hope for a change, yet you are afraid that you might not be strong enough to go through the fire?


I wonder if this morning's dream was supposed to nudge me back into life somehow. Music and writing -- two forces that once occupied the forefront of all my creative energy -- are so much on the peripheral now that I must focus my energies on teaching. Perhaps I am late for my appointment with these creative forces? Perhaps I need to stop waiting for them to find me and take proactive measures to seek them out? Perhaps I need to start taking responsibility for my own actions, rather than blame my work for making me tired and stressed all the time...

I've been reading a book lately (loaned to me by a friend): China Road by Rob Gifford. Whenever I read books of this sort, my heart leaps and I wish that I could have a writer's life.


[Baby steps]