There is one little girl in my preschool class who is always a delight. She makes me laugh so much, without ever trying to be funny. Her hand never rises to strike another child. Today when she woke up from her nap she just walked up to me, looked into my face and then gave me a big hug around my middle. She runs with her hands flying behind her. Yesterday, she played at being an especially fierce tiger. Her little black face transformed into the wild visage of the most terrible jungle animal, and her usually meek voice roared loud! She bared her tiny white teeth, and as she struggled to keep the smile off her face, she gave me a scary growl and said, "I'll get you Miss Sara! I'm a tiger!" That makes me love my job.


Saturday Night

Silence has found me
My best friends are gone
My lover has gone
Will be gone for a long time
Take me back to
togetherness, little thoughts.
Take me back to
noises and voices.

Silence has found me
My tears are finished
My day's list is finished
The finished autumn resigns
Take me back to
lightly cool days, linked arms
Take me back to
noises and voices

I will not assuage the sting
Silence, this loneliness
Does a soul good.
Gives depth to the artist
Is the paint of masters
I will embrace it
linger in the silence
My thoughts will form
excellent noise.
My poetry will sound
a familiar voice.

Silence has found me
The day feels new
The world feels new
Awake, I arise anew and resilient
Take me forward to
creating, pursuing wisdom.
Take me forward to
noises and voices.


Saturday Morning

Antidote for Lonliness

To survive being alone,
make in yourself a home.

Be your own best friend.
Work toward good ends.

Do what you love most.
In that, be engrossed.

Friends will always roam,
make in yourself a home.

What has happened in the last twenty-four hours? So much. Mitch graduated and I met his very nice family at the ceremony. We ate lunch and helped Mitch pack his stuff up into a U-Haul that was waiting. Mitch and I said a brief goodbye in the December drizzle and he summed up this next season in our lives by saying, "I'll call you." We are back to long-distance. I can hardly believe this beautiful little season in our lives of being in the same town is over.
The bare facts are that I do not like it because I already miss him terribly with a sense of foreboding of the many, many days of missing him that are to come. Yet, it is good, because I need more time to grow as a person by myself. It's back to the independence I had in Burnet, but in the big D. And back to that absence which (hopefully!) makes the heart grow fonder.
After we said goodbye I went to work and since my boss is so motherly I couldn't help but to cry on her shoulder for a few minutes. Mothers always bring out my tears. I wished my mom was closer. I'm really glad I went to work because as crazy as some of those little devils are, they are mostly all sweet and fun to be with.
After work I was devastated to not complete my normal routine of rushing straight over to Mitch's, running down the sidewalk, and knocking on his door to see his little head peer around the corner. Instead I went to my apartment, which has suffered changes, too. Sarah's stuff is all moved to the back bedroom. I will miss being her roommate, a bit. Alyssa's stuff was all packed up so she could leave in the morning. Sitting alone in my room, I let the full weight of all of these changes hit me and finally let all of this sad-ness manifest itself into many tears. It is good to cry it all out at once, than to let them trickle out of sad eyes occasionally, for a long time. Mal called and talked me through it.
When I got it together, I started cleaning up my end-of-semester piles of clothing, made a small dinner, and watched parts of two movies on TV. Alyssa came home and I fell asleep while she was finishing Gladiator. This morning I woke up and she was almost out the door. We said goodbye. She is off to her big adventure. Sarah starts the adventure of being married if a few months. I am starting another big adventure, too, I suppose.


Friday Night

I already miss everything about this semester.


I'm done with the semesterrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr


Happy December

- I got a library card to the DALLAS PUBLIC LIBRARY!!!
- I am the "nice teacher" at La Petite. Dang.
- Mitch graduates soon, soon, soon.
- I will not pursue a math minor.
- I love my roommates.
- Mitch and Sara's Fall 2007 Crunch Week ALL-NIGHTER was a success.
- Summer moves to New York next week.

Also, I don't think that "the more the merrier" is true for every circumstance, or even very many. Sounds commercial.



The DBU library is where bad research goes to party. I hate it.


Miss Sara Cried

Have you ever made a teacher cry? For me, it was Mrs. Whickam, the meanest teacher in the second grade. I felt like dirt when I found out that she had fled from our classroom to her car, crying.
"If you want better things, I want you to have them."
-Rilo Kiley, from Go On

His eyes are the deepest of browns, almost black. They are like cartoon eyes. Outlined in black, with a lot of white, and a solid black circle in the middle. I have been trying to reach out to the young boy on the other side of these orbs of mystery for a few months. At first, they were violent and angry eyes. For a time, they were sad, pouty eyes. Sometimes they are restless. They dart from person to person, to every distraction imaginable. They are eyes that have seen too much already. They are eyes that are not enjoyed often enough.

He is three. He has a little sister, a single working mom, and rarely sees his unstable father. He does not have a house. He lives wherever mom is staying- with auntie, grand daddy, or mom's boyfriend. He is my student.

Last week, he made my eyes-- adult eyes, become angry, and then crying eyes. He must have been having a rough time at home. And he was, as I later found out. The afternoon had been peachy. A rough patch arose when the kids sat for half an hour without snack arriving to our classroom. They all became restless. Loud. Unresponsive to calming activities.

On top of the frustration I was feeling because of my rowdy class of preschoolers, there was him. He would not be calmed, and became a threat to his own safety, as well as the safety of his friends. It was awful. And ugly. And overwhelming. And any good teacher would have sailed right through the storm, but not me. I couldn't do it. I cracked.

I let slip my angriest tears and passed out cups of water to shocked little faces. I led songs to pass the time, stony-faced and deadened eyes. I had been broken. They all knew it.

We went outside. The breeze was too cold to stay out long. "Park the bikes and get in line!" The children grouped together at the door and began to throw some gathered leaves into the air.

You know me. I did think it was beautiful to watch kids laugh and throw leaves in the air together. It is a bit poetic. But, there is nothing poetic about getting dirt and sticks and leaves stuck in little eyes. One girl began to cry because her cough hurt.

With much resistance and some leaves thrown in my face, I got them to get into a line and cease the leaf war. But he was not there. On the other side of the playground, around a corner I could not see past, he hid on a play scape and would not come. Dilema. Leave my group of children unattended? Or leave him unattended? Neither would come to each other. I ran over to him. I begged him, cajoled him, demanded that he get in line. His eyes were elsewhere. Scared eyes, lost eyes. Little baby eyes that shouldn't know how to rebel like this. I cracked again. I couldn't catch him or drag him off. I felt helpless. "You get in that line! Go!" I screamed and he watched me cry. Where was he?

I don't know what was going on in his mind while he watched me struggle to get him to obey. We never know the secrets of children who are that small. What has he seen already? What does he think will happen if he acts one way or another? Does he enjoy watching me breakdown? Is that his intent? Does it make him happy? Does it scare him? Was he me at some time-- screaming to be heard but meeting dead eyes in response?

I didn't see him for the rest of the day. Another teacher flew out to grab him after I finally summoned for help. I shepherded my kids to our class and tried to clean off my face. The rest of the day was uneventful, besides the kids telling their friends that Miss Sara had cried today because he had been bad.

I went home defeated. Angry. Overwhelmed. No puedo. I can't. Do anything. Do my job. Stay strong. Be the gentle guidance that they need. No puedo hacerlo. I can't do it. I wanted to walk away from my job as quickly as possible. I wanted to stay angry at him and the parents who are failing miserably to raise him, for a very long time. I wanted to forget working with children whose parent's sorry circumstances cause their children to be so neglected.

When I reflect on Jesus' command that we pray for our enemies, I always draw a blank. Who is my enemy? I am likable, I feel. It has been a long time since I have had an enemy. I don't think it is unreasonable that I began to feel like he, and a couple of children who are as difficult as him, are my enemies. I know they are not intentionally malicious. Yet, just because they do not intend to be that way, does not excuse that their behavior is, in fact, malicious. It is hateful, just not intentional. They were taught to act that way, and I am angry about it.

I prayed for my anger to be forgiven, and then, in humility, prayed for him, my enemy. "Please, Lord, let him have a good day. Let us have a good day together."

You want to know what he wants? He doesn't even know, he just wants. He does not understand that my rules are to protect him, not to punish him. He is a little body that cannot make sense of anything that is going on, and he just wants. Rules. Safety. Touch. Healthy food. Mom. Dad. Home. Friends. Fun. He just wants and remains unsatisfied. He wants something better, like love and a home to look forward to going to. Do you know that when a friend makes him mad he tells them that they cannot go to his house? He doesn't have a house! He wants to be a football player and go to dances with pretty girls. He acts it out all the time.

He has broken my heart. I am sadder than I was. There is a more serious reason for going to work now, with a bit of suffering included. This is where my words fail me. I guess I can't explain this, really. Anyway, I will not flee from my preschoolers just yet. Though I may be a lightweight when it comes to disciplining and handling a group of children-- especially ones of this sort, I want to be challenged. I want to see if I can really love them, even when it seems that they are my enemies. I want to see my prayers answered. I want to see some fruit of my labor. I want to see that God can still work through me. I want to see him have better things, even if it is just a good day at school.


Roy G. Biv

This weekend, I visited the the tiny town of (le) Burnet for the first real time since I moved away. Being there gave me a sense of closure about leaving. I am glad to be gone. Yes, I do miss the good families and friends that are now no longer close enough to ride my bike to go see. Yes, I miss the nature of a small-town and how it wraps one up with it's close borders and knows one better than you would think. However, it was a good decision to leave. The town is not the same. The church is not the same. I am not the same. Dallas living is making me happy.

Today, Mitch and I saw a new giant tree, a beautiful Cardinal, and a double rainbow on the way to school. My English professor sent me an email to tell me she was giving me a second chance to turn in a paper that is 10% of my grade. Everything is going to alright.

All things good and beautiful come from God. Amen.


five minute poem about mitch

I would rather have you
than all of the stars
in the clearest of skies.
You are my all good things,
in this little piece of time;
this little life of mine,
which wants to be nestled
in that little life of yours.
Stay with me awhile.
Be my stars and clouds.
Be my green grass and trees
Be my shadows and colors.
Stay with me awhile,
and we can explore
this little scratch of life
together, deeply, exhaustively.
And hold shells to our ears
to hear people whispering
at the ocean. Wusssssh!
Living would not be so good,
if I could not live it
with you.


Let me try blogging in the morning. This might me good. What do I hope to accomplish today?having fresh hot sex. why? might you ask... because I just took a shower and shaved my legs.

Okay, that was Sallen who wrote the text in bold. I left my laptop on the loveseat and when she sat down by it, I asked her to finish my blog for me. That's what friends are for.


can a mic be flat?

I read at an open mic tonight. It was nothing like Austin, which I miss with its dark coffee shops and weird shoes and well-planned transportations system.

When I was in Burnet, I was always a teensy bit sad to be away from my family and friends.

Now in Dallas, I am still a bit sad that I don't wake up in Burnet.

I also miss how swole my legs were. I'll get back on that next week. I need a goal.


blumarine and professor

One animal that I am glad I am not is the fish. Their memory is almost to short to count as existent. I don't think my fish know anything. They don't even know it is time to be sleeping.

When I still lived at home in Cleburne I would get ridiculously irritated every time my step-dad did something that I disapproved of (i.e. go for the chips when he wasn't actually hungry, make junk for dinner, say something I didn't agree with in our morning prayer, etc. ad infinitum). I was the most bothered by his failure to successfully quit one bad habit that he had picked up from his days as a cowboy. He was a dipper. He quit once, and praised God for a few years. When his elderly mother's health began to deteriorate so much that he had to move her across Texas to be taken care of, he started dipping again. In my head I held that against him mercilessly. I was a terrible young girl sometimes. While at times I was lax to keep myself from poor conduct, I was sharp to take out my mental insults on other people's slip-ups. How I wish I were completely free from the plague of this sin. I can honestly declare that I do not practice such criticism in the degree that I once did. However, it is two in the morning and I am still up like my dumb fish considering how similar I am to my step-dad. I began a habit sometime this year that evolved into something sinful, like his addiction to dipping. When I kicked the habit I praised God in prayer and to my closest female companion. This blog is for the purpose of saying that I, too, have fallen back into the sin I once praised God for relieving me from. My accidentally-acquired post-modern approach to rules and convictions leaves me in a mud puddle of confusion when I try to decipher right and wrong behaviors, quite often. Sometimes I think I am on to a right approach to living, and then just like a fish, I quickly forget it in lieu of slow-sinking food pellets falling from the surface of the water, or a light that gets turned on in the middle of the night by a girl coming home past curfew.


Lewis indicates that friends bring out sides of us that would otherwise remain hidden.

Making friends was never, never, never an active pursuit until college. In first grade I was friends with two girls and those friendships melted into new ones again and again with every year and friendship cycle (first meet-awkward first hangout- the good times- the best times- the hard times- the awkward last hangouts), until finally at the end of my senior year in high school I was friends with five girls (especially), about thirty underclassmen, and I knew a majority of the people I saw from day to day. Effortless. They melt into each other.

The only opportunity to make new friends was at church, where one is supposed to befriend everyone so strangers don't feel left out. Therefore, nothing. No trying.

College happens. Best friends become estranged, and going home becomes desperate and depressing, so friendships must be made. I spied the people I wanted to befriend. By the end of the first year, after manually jump starting the friend cycle with each of them (show much interest, back away, and then swoop back in to hook a new amigo), a circle of friends had been established and we were well on our way to the intimacies of the closest friendships.

When I was displaced to Burnet I mourned my loneliness and friendlessness very dramatically in short bursts of sadness and smeared mascara. Not only did I need new friends, but also a new family. Eventually I found hidden treasures, hidden poets, delightful teenagers, and sage adults to be my family and friends. The summer that marked my last months there was beautiful, and never lonely. We rode bikes long after the sun had fallen behind the hills, and the street lamps (too far apart) saw us night after night laughing, dreaming, and planning.

The blessing of being able to make friends is not something I am ungrateful for. I realize how valuable it is.

Not to sound creepy, but it can be pretty formulaic. Spot interesting people, locate yourself around them, show a lot of friendly interest in them, be aloof (i.e. BACK OFF) for awhile (perhaps let your reputation find its way to them), and then wrap them up in the fun of being friends. Be personal, have intimate interests, let them have space in a group, bring them interesting parcels denoting your friendship, etc. On that last note it is entertaining enough to mention that I have given many strange friend gifts that have just perfectly done the trick (a black ceramic angel, a small plastic rifle, jelly beans, abstract photographs, potted flowers, etc.).

Josh wants to know how to spot interesting people, or at least how I do it. I have no answer. Oscar says we find each other. It is true. However, we are not just similar pawns that fate brings together. We have some say in those people we actively pursue. I suppose I have very high criteria for my close circle, though I will be friendly (and sincerely, at that) to anyone. The following criteria will be written in stream of consciousness. Forgive me my offenses.

I like people who have passions, who aren't obsessed with TV or the top 40, who plan, desire to move and grow.

I like to hear that someone has a favorite part of nature, isn't just going to get a tattoo because it is legal to do at age 18, respects their family, and is attempting to work out their relation to God.

I like thinkers, of course, but especially those with a sense of humor, a sense of humility, a sense of piety, and a sense of duty.

I like shy people with raging inside personalities, as well as people with extravagant personalties who have intricate and quiet inner folds of psyche.

I like people who read a lot, write well, and are recreationally active whether it be on a bike, on two feet running down whatever, taking some ball to some goal, or playing COPY or JUMP.

I like people who can make things, paint, draw, paste, sculpt, and photograph things.

I like people who have very personal interest, and are personally interested in the people around them.

I like people who don't know, but want to. I like people who know, but realize they don't .

I like people with long hair and funny stories, and people with short hair and comical stories.

I like planned people, spontaneous people, loving people, and critical people.

I like to be around the smart, the funny, the aloof, the nerdy, the warm, the genuine, the simple, and the moving people.

I like the silly, and the serious. I like the depressed and the joyful.

I attempt to scorn cliches, superficiality, insincerity, crudeness, hate, racism, sexism, close-mindedness, legalism, and superiority complexes.

Upon finding someone so beautiful, so interesting, who fits what I want in a friend, I kick start the cycle, and hopefully, we make something where there was nothing.


a few things off the cuff (if i had cuffs, if it would cool down)

1 I suppose being the big sister to much younger siblings has taught me one internal motto, which I will now voice: If you want something done, do it yourself. Or else, delegate.

Last night in my dreams, I was driving down the road in the backseat of a car with three friends. A boy was driving. We were on the road near my Granny's house that intersects with the road that goes into Nacogdoches. I saw a man laying in the grass on the side of the road (an image I saw in Austin), with his thumb up in the signature hitchhiker gesture. Suddenly, I realized that we were in a horror movie, and that this man would kill us all when we benevolently conceded to give him a ride to town. I screamed and screamed to driver friend not to pick him up because I had a feeling! He gave into my fears and did not pick the hitchhiker up. When we got to the bus station (similar to the one in San Diego), I saw the man again and knew that he had tracked us down, and would still proceed to kill us. Dangit.

Then I realized that I was simply reading the book about the horror movie.

3 I saw my ex-boyfriend, Leo, in my dreams, and he asked about me wistfully (a permanent impression) and I asked about his baby girl (also a permanent impression).

4 Also in my dreams, I wore a huge tiara in my short curly hair and it looked great.

5 Friendliness slays almost all foes.

6 Living in Burnet was one of the best times of my life. I visited it for about 12 hours this weekend, (half of those sleeping), and it has changed already. That time can be never be repeated, never be replaced.


this time, this move

This semester is two weeks old, and I have been residing in Dallas for a month now. If one thinks that by writing a few lines down about Dallas, before reflecting on my move away from Burnet, that I have gotten ahead of myself and misstepped, do not fear nor make a quick judgement, I haven't neglected to write about leaving that dear town. There is a quick explanation.

Moving away was painful. I am fully aware that for weeks prior and following my departure, I was detached and unemotional when talking about my leave, except with the two people I am closest to, Mitch and my mother. Sure, I could explain why I was down about leaving, and what few things I was looking forward to in the big city, but those things were delivered in a quick, flat, logical explanation, with perhaps a whisper of wistfulness ("...if only Burnet could be transported to surround DBU..."), but not much. Sometimes I felt bad, because it seemed that I was presenting my feelings about the upheaval as non-existent, i.e. "This unfortunate thing is happening, but I don't care either way". To those who know me best it was clearly the other way around. I am a romantic, and every last made me choke down the knot in my throat. The last trip to Kiri's. The last sight of Alisha. The last time to shut down the Epicenter. The last Bible study. The last bike ride. I was a wreck, but I was a composed wreck. This conflict, like any conflict big or small, I rode through on auto-pilot. I said what I needed to say, and did what I needed to do to make a clean break, to weather the storm, to keep my composure, and to not add tears to anyone's eyes.

There were the two times that I couldn't keep the tears in, in front of people other than Mitch and my mom: Once, at Bible study, though only the adults noticed, and again in front of the church on my last Sunday morning, when I was supposed to be offering them some last words.

I just like to get through the problem, and think about it once it's over.

So that is what I did. Once I moved up here, I felt myself remain in the zone. It was difficult to process, even after all of my bags and boxes were unpacked, and my shelf in the pantry was stocked with food, the fact that I was not going home, to Burnet. I made no journal entries, nor stopped to examine how I was feeling. I felt boredom one evening for the first time in a year or so.

The question people had posed a hundred times, "Are you excited to move back to Dallas?" haunted me because I still had not a confident answer. It is a given that I was thrilled to be so close to Mitch. I soon learned that I had much to learn about how to co-habitate in the same city with my (all good words). Yet, that reason alone was not enough to fully answer the question with. Yes, my friends and family would also be closer. School would finally come back into focus. But with the hurt of leaving a home and a family, no answer was good enough; filled with enough sincerity, or true excitement. I knew excitement not. I knew that it would not be good to stay, and that it did not feel good to leave.

Yet, I am enlivened. I wake up a bit more everyday. I shouted a jubilant HELLO to the skyline. Going to Church of the Incarnation is the highlight of my every week, basically. I long to return to its kneelers and join in the traditional songs of my family, the church. It is nice to have college-age conversation, to fully belong to a school, to come home to a family of girls, to live in creativity with my best female friend, to meet new people, and click-click to a faster way of life again.

Oh, who can deny that the best part are these lazy and lovely days I get to spend with my beloved? Mitch and I have settled into (can it be?) some kind of routine. It is mind blowing. I remember slight trepidations at the thought of being together so much. I was scared for what it might prove. How incredible it is that all it has proved is that I am ever-more fascinated by him. I actually get to scan crowds to see if I can catch a glimpse of him, grab a quick lunch with him, go to a Tuesday night movie, and just live like a normal couple! Finally! God is so good to me! This is such a fortunate, providential, and refreshing time for us.

I am trying to be slow about committing myself to anything else, right now. I go to a Bible study of thinkers, co-host Poetry nights, and work with Pre-schoolers. I have to find a service activity, but that is where I am drawing the line. I want to maintain some semblance of the slow way of Burnet life.

So, to those who might be concerned, I have written about Burnet, in detail. I am not done, but I will try to finish this week. I've been hesitating. And when it is done, it is done.


sad news from the fish tank

My decision to take my fish to the big city was a good one. I'm glad I did not leave them behind in that empty room, and I am glad I didn't give them away. Mitch showed such kindness by catching all three fish-- Leigh, Blumarine (Penelope), and Happy (the Bastard), and placing them in a small container for the move. He cleaned out their dirty tank and filthy filter, and we packed it into our cars with the rest of my boxes and bags of belongings.

Upon settling into my apartment at DBU, I prepared new water in the fish tank and dumped the fish in, along with the water they had traveled in, because they were already used to it. I think they kinda went into shock for a little while. They soon recovered, for the most part.

Then, I attempted to get the filter going. This was to no avail, because I was soon to realize that the pump was broken. It would not suck in water. Mine and Mitch's efforts did nothing to fix the filter, and the fish were left swimming in dirty water, quickly using up the oxygen in the water. They each moved about slowly and differently. Blumarine swam all around the tank. Leigh swam an inch or two below the surface, sometimes rising to the top, and then sinking down an inch again. Happy, on the other hand, was not making the best of things. He was swimming around on his back, at the surface of the water. Now, that was NOT a euphemism for him being dead. Oh no, he was still alive, but he was choosing the breathe at the top of the water, and not move very much. Things were looking grim.

My mother and I went to Target to buy nice things and needed things for my apartment. We checked, but there weren't any fish tanks filters in the pet section. That night, after returning from watching "To Kill a Mockingbird" at Mitch's apartment, I walked into my apartment, and found that Happy was dead. He was still, and not sucking for air any longer. I lifted his heavy body out of the water with a container lid and carried him to the toilet, and flushed him away. It is sad that Happy did not survive the move. He will be missed.

Today I bought an even better filter. Mitch and I are going to buy a new fish.


poem for Burnet

All of the lively adventures
And journeys before this one
All of the lovely people
And places before here
Were each their own lesson
A part of a varied curriculum
And bared their subtle messages
On my curious and growing heart.
At twenty years old,
My adventure of late has been Burnet, TX.
A year goes by slowly
And years pass by quickly
Spent the last one in this little town
Spent the last one rising with the sun
Spent the last one on my own
In a setting full of strangers
A year ago on the eve of moving here
I was scared and unsure
You were
So small and unfamiliar
So friendly, but I felt alone
And my world shrank to
a carpet covered room
Where I spent time waiting
for my hair to grow
for my ministry to take off
for friends to be made.
For months I stirred about awkwardly
four months, six months,
And a year later, here we are
What a change has taken place
Who was I? Who am I now?
A year older, a smile prettier,
a shade wiser.
And now I know a bit more
Like how to live with a lady of 50.
And what a house broken dog drinks
And how he moves, and what he likes
And how to make him love you.
(the answer is sirloin steak).
Priceless days I've spent here
And asked myself things like,
How do teenage boys think?
More simply than I supposed
And what does it take to befriend them?
Feed them, love them in the most sisterly way
Give them an abundance of
Answers, adventures, and understanding
Late nights, muffins in the morning, and time
And teach them something new
I was befriended by the fearless
I watched a group of boys grow
How a year does pass.
Sweetly if one finds hidden treasures
Like I did, or did she find me?
A lovely young lady with beauty spilling over
How did I deserve this treasure?
Shy smiles, pretty dresses, shrieks of laughter
Paint days, cookings days, and sing-a-longs
My friendly fellow flower
Molly Fantastic, my sister true
Thank you for her, Burnet
Hidden hill country town
And thank you for all that I've met
all I've seen, and learned.
Suburban kids, riding bikes
Flying kites, getting into fights
Waving goodbye
Hard workin' men, helpful old ladies
I've learned their wrinkles, ways, and worries
Meanwhile, I've been teaching, and painting
Reading, singing, cooking
Biking, running, napping
Screaming, crying, learning
Days, days, days
Oh Burnet! Must I leave and still
have questions like--
How do your sunsets glow so orange
How do the rainbows double
How does the river sound so sweet
As it tumbles through the park
I'm primed to leave
But mournfully so
How do your people hug so close?
How do the bluebonnets multiply and grow?
How do the stars fall so often
On nights warm and clear?
How does a year pass by so quickly?
I'm on the eve of moving away
Burnet, sweet Burnet,
I hardly knew adventure before here.
Before I found the best climbing tree
And biked to the next town
Before I napped under trees
And watched the ants march around
Before I sipped Kiri's cappucino's
And watched my students grow.
Adventure did I know you?
A bit, but now I'm sure
Before Burnet, I'd made journeys,
I'd adventured in little ways.
But above them all,
You sit proud and bold.
Your people wrapped up
In memories, that feel like nice afternoon naps
Your mornings wrapped up
In memories, that feel like dewdrops on bare feet
Your streets wrapped up
In memories, that smell like honeysuckle
Will you remember me
In my yellow sweater?
I'll remember your worn blue jeans.
Will you remember me
And the silly dumb things I said?
I'll remember the stories you shared.
Will you remember me,
Like I'll remember you,
As the most lovely batch of characters?
Who'll decorate my future thoughts
Who'll prepare me for tomorrow
Who'll be in the pages I write and stow away.
You've been teachers, friends, and family
A lesson good and full
A chapter of my life
A blessing undeniably from God.
Forget me, Burnet, but I won't forget you.


i felt like a headliner

Man. Today was Thursday. My Texan accent is thick lately. It gets like that in the summer. I know, because I'm narrating this in my head right now, and it sounds pretty convoluted.

"Torrential" rains caused the "student ministry team" (Carissa and I) to call off the trip to Main Event today. I was a little bummed, but a bit relieved. That is two events this week that the rain has upset.

In Burnet, only hicks and cowboys are allowed to wear camo print anything. Jacob informed me of that since I have been wearing a camo baseball cap around lately. I love it. I have NEVER been a hat wearer, but man is it addicting. So, today my brother and I went to this little Mexican restaurant called EL RANCHO. Seriously. There was hardly a Mexican in sight, besides the ones cooking the food. Everyone dining for lunch appeared to have come straight off some EL RANCH-O somewhere. I was wearing my camo baseball cap. Multiple "What is she?" and "There is no way that girl is country" looks were shot my way. Tasty soup, though.

A wreck happened right behind me in Marble Falls today. I think I could have been the (efficient) cause.

Josh, Josh, and I did the VBS skit and then headed back to da-house. I was hit with a burst of creativity so I shut myself up in my room. An hour later I flew out of there with a new poem on my laptop, and threw my little brother in the car, along with my laptop and a notebook of poetry. I headed over to Kiri's coffee shop where OPEN MIC NIGHT was going on. I encouraged a familiar poet to read some more of his poetry (which he did), and asked Lonnie to sing and play a few more songs on his guitar (which he did), and then I was welcomed up to the mic. I apologized for bringing my laptop up there with me (not romantic or poetic in any way), and then I read about four things. The place was dead silent for me. It was neat. My new poem had a great response. It was about Burnet.


last pretty tuesday in the month of june wild

blackbird singin' in the dead of night
take these broken wings and learn to fly
all your life
you were only waiting, for this moment to arrive

Today is Pretty Tuesday, day for a dress and a swipe of lipstick. I am stewing over the writing I have before me to accomplish. I know I need to write about the last year, and my feelings about my future move. However, I am hesitating. I need to work through all the lessons I learned and cast them into words on a screen, or on paper. Oh fond memorie of a day spent riding bikes with good friends, and reflections on the dull yellow glow of the too-familiar kitchen in this little house on Wofford; I will wrap you all up with your fellow remembered moments and stow you into paragraphs and phrases. Later.

I happened upon a good occasion to talk to two different 20-somethings today at Kiri's Coffee Shop. One of them directs the local Boys and Girls Club. She has lived a lot already. She told me about bike and coffee shop culture in Northern California. Then later, I spoke with the other girl, a young married, who with her husband just moved back to Texas from Germany. She is working on her thesis about alternate fuel sources. We discussed the deathly slow pace of federal government jobs, and how she thought she would find an improved working situation at the city-level. She also informed me that it cost her one penny + 15 dollars in taxes to take a plane from Germany to Rome. My jaw dropped.

I have much more to accomplish today. God is good.


hail blogger

I created a blogger account a long time ago, but I could not carry it to completion. I think I was unable to at that time. Perhaps technical difficulties were holding me back. Today I slept in and woke up to work on my Itunes. Working on it always consists of identifying which tracks on my Itunes I do not have all of the information for (usually the album name). Then I search for it online and enter the name, and make sure the album cover registers, too. Eventually I will get an Ipod and all of this tedious and meaningless work will be redeemed with meaning and purpose.

I'm wearing all white today.

My brother, Joshua, is going to come here tomorrow, I think. That will be so great. I look forward to catching up with him and getting to know him more. I think he's changed a lot since I graduated and moved out. Neat.

Mary is in New York.

Sarah and I might go into business together.

Lately, I've been low on confidence when I'm around my church family. I don't know why.