Poetry Throwback

I just found this poem nudged somewhere in my journal. I wrote it in August, but it seems quite applicable now.

there are some sticks
that, when put in a mason jar of water,
leaves from them grow;
they are on the coffee table in my apartment,
and they were uprooted once.
still they grow.
and why? because that
is what plants do; they grow.
and how are we so different?

Poetry love. btwfyi: the sticks with leaves featured below, at present day, still doing the plant thing, aka growing.

Chinese vs Spanish

In the quest to figure out what I want to do with my life, I fell in love with learning languages. I studied French in college, but really need to work on my grammar, so I am reading French everyday and basically loving every moment of it. But I really want to add a third language to my repertoire. So I was thinking Spanish. I already knew a few words and conjugations; it is so useful; and it is probably the most common foreign language spoken 'round these parts.

However, Latin based languages develop the more creative side or your brain, and Chinese, develops the more mathematical side. I speak a Germanic language, I have a working knowledge of a Latin one, but Chinese would open up my mind in so many different ways.

So I am out on a quest. Today I learned how to say the numbers zero through ten on an online podcast. I also learned the four different tones. And maybe, hopefully soon I will take a class, which I will probably really struggle with, but learn so much from. So who is with me? Learn Chinese??

This was one of my favorite places in France.

When you accidentally fail an entire class

My students were reading silently, a few weeks ago, and I was entering scores from their latest article of the week. Typed in the scores, clicked save, viola: updated grades.

Problem number one: Chloe, a pretty close to perfect student, now had an F. I looked back at the few other grades affecting this term; they were all perfect scores. The article of the week I had just entered was not a clear fifteen out of fifteen, but it was no where close to a failing grade.

Problem number two: The rest of the class was failing too. An entire class was failing. Panic surged through my veins for a second. What had just happened? My brain scanned through all the consequences of this handful of F's.

Turns out, I forgot to change the assignment to be worth 15 points instead of 100.

Details matter. Balance restored.

Sometimes I write my thoughts down in poetry form.

Peace - the glass of day
break: the composure;
I am on the wings
of eagles - I rest;
I wait.
I feel all types of unforecasted
weather - and I give
it all away.
Abide here: I must stay.
Change me, over
and over. I will
become clay somehow. I act
in thy confidence:
the very breath I breathe
is thine.

"Busy" is now banished from my vocabulary

I solemnly vow to never say the phrase(s), "I have been busy," "It has just been really busy," and/or "It has been crazy busy," or any such variation of the phrase pendant le rest de ma vie. I don't believe in busy. I don't believe such a state of being exists. And, if by the chance that such state does exist, I do not believe it to be an admirable, desirable, or productive way to live.

Instead, I believe in a full life. A life brimming with love - in whatever shape or form loves takes. Obviously this takes some figuring out: What does matter most to you, and what do you really, deep down, what do you really love?

I am not busy, and I am never too busy, for those things that matter most. Check out one of my favorite speeches of all time - What if love were our only motive?

The Symphony of Snow

Alright all you snow haters, I have to confess, I love snow. I love to see it falling, lighting up the night. I love to feel the safety blanket it lays over the city. I love how it gathers light, making ordinary things more beautiful. I even like driving in it, at least on small roads with no other cars around. Untouched snow - innocence. And snow with footprints and bike tire tracks and the remnants of a snow angel - the beauty of human experience, how we mold and change because of the influence of one another, reflected right there in the snow. And it melts; like other good things, it passes away, leaving us with memories, teaching us to treasure.

It took me four snowy winters  to come to this realization. I mean, how's a girl to know when every complaint is about the wretched snow. I almost thought I hated it just because every else talks about how much they hate it. I do absolutely hate being cold, and that is why I chose to be born during this modern time of electric blankets and hot running water, so I could enjoy the symphony of snow and only be cold a little bit. Rejoice, there is snow.

One more observation

And the rhythm of the seagulls wings as it catches, on and off, the light - how have I not noticed this before?

The seams of life are beautiful

I have been wanted to write about this for some time now. I have witnessed something spectacular. The type of beauty that asks for your full attention; steals for your entire self for just a moment. Waterfalls has often done this for me, but recently I discovered - no recently I noticed - these small black birds, possibly Blackbirds, flying patterns into the sky. They move together in a wave, resting for a moment, then rising back up as a music note would if it were to move along with its song. Each bird flies it own flight, and alone, just a small bird in a field it would be. But together, as an entity of one, these birds are pure soul on a canvas. They beg me: get out of your car and come sit. Forget the commute; forget papers to grade; just come sit and see a piece of nature's voice. The black birds flying in formation.

But I don't. And my eyes only watch the road. Then today, Autumn's dying, Snow is pushy, soon to coming, and the cars are all zooming down the street where I'm driving. Wind was blowing and Fall's leaves in the streets are a bouncing. They're jumping and riding the gust from the wheels of the cars. To the rhythm of rush hour, they tap the streets - their own ensemble of pianos - a ta-ta-tah-ta-ting. And their colors, a sparkling, like Christmas a coming, say even the dead leaves in the street have a voice.

Saying breathing and driving, commuting and grading, are all fine and good. But look, stand over here. Hear the loud crash of water on shinny black rocks. Feel the mist of the falls; let it prick on your face. The voices around me, though silent they are, tell of the beauty that makes up the seams of life.

President Monson's First Conference Address

How cool is this?

Listen and hear the voice of a prophet

Teaching, is kind of exhausting sometimes. During my lunch break, I sit back in my chair, and eat some food, of course. But at the same time, I also feed my spirit. I go to lds.org and look up mormon messages usually.

And I just want to take this moment to personally invite all, to watch general conference this weekend. Feel more peace and love in your life, better understand your purpose, get answers to tough questions, it is so worth it.

Lil' bit of r-a-n-d-o-m for the crowd

Cette semaine has been off the hook aka cray zay. But ya know, you can't turn your back on the street.

no comment. Except that I would really love a waffle from Belgium right now. Can't turn your back on the waffles either.

Recommendations and Regrets

I was at the grocery store shaking it up with Lynie, and looked over and saw those chapsticks that come in a little round ball. Let me just confess, I have always wanted one of those. All the cool girls have them, and once my friend got one, and wouldn't let me try it. And if you are anyone who is anyone, you have to have one, so I tossed it in the basket.

Number One: Who ever thought to take the convenient shape of chapstick and turn it into a bulky, awkward roundness, was cray cray. It fits quite awkwardly anywhere in my bag or my pocket, and its nicely just about nowhere. Plus, there is no graceful way to apply it. I can't glide it along my lips, I have to fumble trying to smush it against the corners of my mouth. Round chapstick should be a nogo.

Number Two: It last all about three seconds. Then I might as well reapply. In fact, I guess I could just hold it in the palm of my hand all day; that is the one place it kinda-sorta-not-really fits.

Number Three: I maybe just a little bit feel like a poser.

So if you are wondering, I wouldn't buy one.

On another note, this week I discovered the sweetest app evs. Duolingo. I am strengthening my French, learning Spanish, and I passed level one in German and Italian. This one, is worth it.

Number One: I am addicted. I just want to learn Spanish/French all night long. I love learning languages, and I love this app because it forces you to actually use what you are learning.

Number Two: I have studied in school how language is best acquired, and this app has the research in its pocket. It relies entirely on context clues, and does quite a superb job of scaffolding.

Number Three: It strengthens  listening, speaking, writing, and reading skills. Wow, that is pretty much the lot.

So if you want to learn some other language, or even if you are just bored, or even if you are as busy as superman, try the app. I am recommending it.

People are the most important

A friend of mine shared this on faceybook, and I just watched it and cried. Thought I would share. People, all people, should always take care of each other.

I'll take my milk from a chocolate straw

I hate milk. Je ne l'aime pas. Okay, I dislike it. So 95 percent of the time, I don't drink it plain. And I throw out the extra milk from my cereal. Yep, I waste it. But then, the other week, I found this treasure. Choco milk straws. So the premise as follows: put the straw in a glass of milk, place your lips on the straw, suck, and viola, chocolate milk party in the mouth. There is also cookies and cream flavor. I was just shopping around Walmart on a Monday afternoon, and there they were, sitting quietly on the shelf. So I bought them like a thief. The check-out lady didn't even comment or say anything like, "Whoa, cool straws."

Hence, as of late, I have been drinking milk "plain" mostly just because I like using the straws. And I make every other duck who wanders into our apartment try them. So I have been drinking lots of milk. I even used one to finish my cereal milk once. But now I have a question: Am I slightly lactose intolerant? Is that even possible? Because milk doesn't usually make me sick, but I am not so sure...unless it is these straws that are doing the poison.

I haven't decided yet if I am going to stop drinking milk from these straws. But I do think I will be having oatmeal for breakfast, instead of cereal, for the rest of the week. #milkiswierd #strawsareforthecoolkids #maybetheyshouldselltheseatchicfilla

Update: Just got this picture from ma sista

Just got this picture from my sister. This is our kitten, Tigress, just chillin in a basket like a boss.