tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6695132738356398022024-03-13T13:56:36.656+00:00Hippy*Bohemian*Nerd"Life my friends is ordinary crap/ pineapple slices on tutu-wearing toothpicks." ~ Dean YoungJenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.comBlogger333125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-74876868836950222242018-10-06T23:17:00.000+01:002018-10-06T23:17:03.121+01:00And the women rage Women's rage has been a hot topic lately. It's also one of those borderline inappropriate emotions that brand women a raging feminist, or unattractive, or unfeminine. Rage.<br />
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Societies around the world seem to be getting it. Women are not objects. Women deserve equal justice. Women are their own unique identities. Women have their own autocracy. In Saudi Arabia, women can now drive. In India, sexual predators are being prosecuted. Progress.<br />
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But in the United States of America, a man who has been accused multiple times of sexual assault has just been confirmed to the Supreme Court without a complete FBI investigation because... because I don't know. Because it's not worth time to ensure the constitution and laws in the highest court of the land aren't being influenced and twisted by a man who doesn't consider half of the country (or perhaps more) equal to men.<br />
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Trump sits in the White House with an incredibly low approval rate, increasing evidence of collusion with Russian hackers, numerous law suits against him for sexual assault, tax evasion, and fraud.<br />
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Women are tired of the double standards. We're tired of not being heard and believed. We're tired of having to be likeable and attractive to be considered credible. We're tired and we're angry.<br />
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Republican Senators, we're coming for you. We don't care how much campaign money you have. You are being replaced.<br />
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Sincerely, the women of America.Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-7834648855734916442015-02-22T11:25:00.001+00:002015-02-22T11:28:08.508+00:00Ok World, Let's Be Better: Hidden Male Depression <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit Vincent Giordano/<br />Trinacria Photography</td></tr>
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<a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/davidmack/draven-rodriguez?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpho#.eyLA4xn1L">Yet another web famous, "well-adjusted," happy teenager commits suicide. </a>When I see titles like this, I can't help but be concerned. The CDC reports that suicide is the <a href="http://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/pub/youth_suicide.html">third leading cause</a> of death among people aged 10-24 in the US, 4,600 young people a year, and 81% of these deaths are males. We are failing teenage boys. Something needs to change.<br />
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As a teacher of literature, I feel like I have a relatively opportunistic stance in the education of young people: through literature we can wrestle with social and emotional issues that the media sometimes portrays as black and white and make things a little complicated. Classically feminist readings are sometimes the most advantageous places to promote gender discussion.<br />
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The Child Study Centre <a href="http://www.aboutourkids.org/articles/depression_in_adolescence_does_gender_matter">reports </a>that by 13 years, twice as many girls as boys are clinically depressed and tend to stay that way till adulthood. An Oxford University study, further, found that while women are 40% more likely to develop depression than men, they are also 75% more likely to report having been recently depressed and 60% more likely to report an anxiety disorder.<br />
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These conflicting statistics beg the question: how well do we really know how our boys feel?<br />
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Boys, young men, older men, they are sensitive and emotive, sometimes behind an exterior of lackadaisical indifference, anti-social behavior, or, so it seems, a restless splash of happiness.<br />
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While gender-concerned groups have worked to make it safe for women to like science and maths, found non-pink and biologically accurate barbies, dolls, and other toys, and made the world a safer place for trans-gender children, boys have often born the brunt of the media disdain, being either ignored or chastened for their (boy)sterous, wild behavior and non-pc language, being proffered as potentially abusive, both physically and sexually, and more often than not, set up as a societal villain.<br />
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The hashtag #noteveryman sparked outrage in 2014 when men pushed back against allegations that "men are..."<br />
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Yet as men are villainized in the media around the world, (and sometimes rightly so), have we been offering boys any alternative to the guns-blazing, super-hero motif that we've been offering them? While I want our boys to see strong, complicated characters, with weaknesses and struggles, and ALSO integrity, I also want them to feel like they can make mistakes and search there hearts for answers. I want them to know that they are not inherently bad, and that they have a lot to offer the world. <br />
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Are we living in a world that doesn't offer them any way out of either the "badass" motif or the "nice guy" motif? I would say that the evidence doesn't seem to imply this.<br />
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We need to do better, for women, yes, who more often than not tend to be <a href="http://www.who.int/mediacentre/factsheets/fs239/en/">victims</a> in our world, but also for our boys, and our men, who have the same sensitive hearts, anxieties, fears, and sadness, and who are much, much less likely to tell anyone about it until it's too late.<br />
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-45236132624876945112015-01-02T14:04:00.000+00:002015-01-02T14:08:56.807+00:002014 Year in Review: Lessons in Faith and Humility <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Dear Fabulous Family and Friends, </div>
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As many of you know, I like to round out the year reflecting and scraping out the lessons my heart has learned this year... No matter how boring or busy or tedious a month is, I'm convinced that I have grown and learned at least one thing every month of the year. Many of my friends are saying goodbye to 2014 with a wave and a kick in the pants, happy to see this difficult year gone. If I were going to whiddle my year down to a few mantras, they might be: rest when you can, just keep swimming, appreciate the small things, God will provide. </div>
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Let me explain: </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hb59bKyFCtw/VKamamfpViI/AAAAAAAAg0A/9FqqG5tWS1U/s1600/DSC_0231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hb59bKyFCtw/VKamamfpViI/AAAAAAAAg0A/9FqqG5tWS1U/s1600/DSC_0231.jpg" height="112" width="200" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhaUj2EHdLs/VKXSb9PakOI/AAAAAAAAgx4/fgYrW-WSbDA/s1600/DSC_0248.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhaUj2EHdLs/VKXSb9PakOI/AAAAAAAAgx4/fgYrW-WSbDA/s1600/DSC_0248.jpg" height="200" width="112" /></a>January: 2014 started with me feeling low and sad because I didn't get to see my family at Christmas. This is the first and only time I have not seen my family at Christmas and I'm perfectly happy never to do it again. Nevertheless, I started out NYE with some amazing London Friends and was actually out at a pub dancing to some awesome DJs :) Later in the month, St. Lukes held their birthday party and I swing danced into 2014.<br />
When I got into the swing of things at work in February I'd taken on a bit of a new post that involved collaborating with a neighboring school. While I really enjoyed the experience and we're repeating the program this year, collaborating is difficult when both parties are very busy. I'm learning more to let myself rely on others and join into partnerships and not just do everything on my own.<br />
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In March I started learning about opening my heart up for the possibility of love. The efficient woman in me was tired. Letting others love me was important. Being busy isn't an excuse to turn off your heart. Which was sort of important because around the same time I met a man who struck my fancy and we've become very good friends.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o9MqjRQWQIE/VKXX9gCDyyI/AAAAAAAAgyQ/-xXbQ_OscdM/s1600/IMG_8157101968621.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o9MqjRQWQIE/VKXX9gCDyyI/AAAAAAAAgyQ/-xXbQ_OscdM/s1600/IMG_8157101968621.jpeg" height="200" width="200" /></a>April had to be the highlight of my year -- my really good friend Kristin got married, Brittany came up for the wedding, and all my best friends were together for a short amazing time of staying up late making brownies in cups, bride manicures, dance parties to Shakira radio, and culminating with a "30th birthday party" for me as a surprise 3 months early and with my family.<br />
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May became the month that I got very verbal about everyone else's accomplishments as a way to foster community and progress. I nominated a friend for a teaching award and she won. Writing the teaching bio for her brought me to tears and even though I couldn't be there on the awards ceremony night, I realized the importance of shouting about other people's accomplishments and not just our own.<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iy7lLKO5kXo/VKXaWBm9eVI/AAAAAAAAgyc/TbsFU2yUuu0/s1600/DSC_0045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iy7lLKO5kXo/VKXaWBm9eVI/AAAAAAAAgyc/TbsFU2yUuu0/s1600/DSC_0045.JPG" height="200" width="112" /></a>In June I turned 30 and had an epic birthday party in the park with water balloons. I also really let down my housemates by needing to write a paper the weekend we moved house and not really doing my share of the moving and cleaning. Sometimes series of events happen that lead to you letting other people down and all you can do is try your hardest, ask for forgiveness, and try to be better. I'm rarely on the "letting people down" side of this lesson in humility and it was good for me. Thankfully my housemates are forgiving, lovely people.<br />
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Speaking of lovely people, in July I attended language school in Faro, Portugal for two weeks and stayed at a beautiful, friendly hostel. I thought about my purpose in life a lot... I feel a pull to work with Brazil and learn Portuguese, but this man in my life is UK based. Going to language school seemed to reaffirm my passion and commitment, though with my Master's degree, I will also admit that I haven't practiced since July (hanging head in shame).<br />
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August brought old friends to London as my housemates and I hosted a slew of friends. My high school bestie, Jenny Moore, and Brazilian buddy, Tiago, came to stay with me and I massively enjoyed their company. The world is full of kindred spirits and that definitely makes it a friendlier, happier, lovelier place to be. If you need to travel, crash at someone's house #fosho.<br />
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September brought exam data analyzation panic at school and pretty much every time I speak to the Head Teacher Ofsted, the government inspectors, are mentioned. While I appreciate that she's #keepingitreal and also trying to keep the staff positive, #thestruggleisreal. What I've learned is that there is not a lot that cannot be weathered with a can-do attitude. Meanwhile, God has continued to bless my program and all of my students did really well. I've been getting a lot of positive recognition in my career, though I'm not sure what to do with it really. I started the second year of my 2.5 year Masters degree program and I've mostly been keeping my head down, trying to stay positive, and #justkeepswimming.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0F6lGlaM2Ic/VKXfcBkRFfI/AAAAAAAAgys/kLPnBr0vQAc/s1600/DSC_0141.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0F6lGlaM2Ic/VKXfcBkRFfI/AAAAAAAAgys/kLPnBr0vQAc/s1600/DSC_0141.JPG" height="112" width="200" /></a>Once October started and we caught our breath from the start of the year, we realized that in 2 months we'd taken in almost as many new students in 2 months as we did ALL LAST YEAR. While the government keeps adjusting their policies and our team is trying to roll with the punches, all I kept seeing is the end of Beauty and the Beast... Belle has gone back to help her father and the villagers are attacking... Beast sits up in his room moping when various pieces of enchanted furniture come in to tell him to brace for an attack. In an attitude of resigned despair, he retorts "Let them come..." Ofsted is changing their policies... "Let them come." We're getting 75 new students in 2.5 months... "Let them come." Your classes are overflowing and we need to keep changing the class lists and schedule. "Let them come." #justkeepswimming became the mantra of my life.<br />
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By the time November got here, and I started to lose my mind, my church had a great worship night and the words of Jesus to Martha have been ringing in my head ever since. "You are worried and anxious about many things, but only one thing is needed." I need Jesus... not to help me... not just to save me... I just need him. To be with him. To be in his presence. And you know what? Everything else happened as well. The days I was too busy to go grocery shopping, my housemate just happened to be making a lovely dinner I could partake in. I was provided for. I could return the favor when I was having a light week. When my to do list starts to swirl in my mind, these verses often come back to me. I am not a teacher to get things done, but to love, educate, and support children. I can't control if inspectors are coming or if they "see" my classroom and children the way I do. I can't control how many children need my services, but if they are there, they are my responsibility and, frankly, my pleasure to educate, even if I'm tired and understaffed.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-au70SIWh1gM/VKakl_BENMI/AAAAAAAAgz0/SeKmv8nMZQU/s1600/DSC_0162.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-au70SIWh1gM/VKakl_BENMI/AAAAAAAAgz0/SeKmv8nMZQU/s1600/DSC_0162.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a>As December descended upon me I was tired. I have learned that I don't have to do everything. God will provide not only for me, but for everyone else as well. God sometimes chooses NOT to use me to provide for everyone else. I helped organize Angel Tree at my church this year (as I've done for 3 years), but pulled back from my other voluntary commitments. Yes, I miss doing it. Yes, I get twinges of guilt. But part of balancing the seasons of life you experience is knowing what to say yes and no to. I could give one epic day wrapping 150 presents for Angel Tree, I could not give weekly time commitments like I had been. When my Masters degree is over, I can prayerfully consider what to go for again. Everyone has 24 usable hours of everyday, but not more. God will provide for others what I can't do for them today. I am limited. God is not.<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7eEHcWdr0lA/VKakl7hyjSI/AAAAAAAAgz0/-GtvgRqBz0Q/s1600/IMG_425979261930795.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7eEHcWdr0lA/VKakl7hyjSI/AAAAAAAAgz0/-GtvgRqBz0Q/s1600/IMG_425979261930795.jpeg" height="200" width="200" /></a>Last year God tried to tell me that others would still love me even if I wasn't perfect and serving them all the time. I feel like this year was proof of that. I messed up. I let go. I was unavailable. And people reached out to me in love when I needed it and I got to see how loved I am. Doing an MA while working full time at a very demanding job isn't something I would recommend to anyone, but I felt like I was called to do it and I've enjoyed my learning and I've also grown a lot personally and professionally.<br />
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God has also provided small moments of solace for me: delightful, cheerful housemates; early morning sunrise bike rides, friends and family who check in and love on me with their presence and encouragement and prayers. I am very blessed. I will continue to try to pass on that blessing to everyone I meet.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-53J74kiYi74/VKakl8JXYWI/AAAAAAAAgz0/s3iI89infpM/s1600/DSC_0158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-53J74kiYi74/VKakl8JXYWI/AAAAAAAAgz0/s3iI89infpM/s1600/DSC_0158.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a>Thank you, awesome church family, St. Lukes. Thank you amazing housemates (Martin, Paula, Dizzi). Thank you fabulous friends who are too numerous to name. Thank you family who gets me and lets me be me. Thank you supportive and encouraging co-workers.<br />
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The words from the communion liturgy just came into my mind:<br />
The Lord is here.<br />
His Spirit is with us.<br />
It is right to give him thanks and praise. <3 p=""><br />
As a side note, I've been posting Bible verses and quotes that stand out to me at <a href="http://hipybohemiannerd.tumblr.com/">this tumblr</a>.<br />
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Ok 2015, come and get me. I'm ready.<br />
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-59727314755324937362014-10-16T21:55:00.002+01:002014-10-16T21:56:50.670+01:00The Sun Always Rises <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Living in London it gets dark fairly early in the winter and stays dark till mid-morning. Because of my ragged commute, I tend to cycle half of my morning journey and leave around the damp, dark, and dewy time of 6:30 am.<br />
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Let me just say that I am categorically not a morning person. When my alarm goes off at 6 am, a part of me wants to die instead of jump into my cycling clothes and hit the road.<br />
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But most days, once I'm actually on my bike with the wind flying through strategically placed vents in my helmet and the clouds are marbled against the usually grey London skyline, I can't help but enjoy my super early morning commute.<br />
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At first, I loved it because it seemed like all of London was asleep and I alone was awake and cycling across the city, off to face the adventures of an English teacher in East London. But London doesn't let you feel lonely for long. As soon as I make it into the park near my house, I usually pass a few pre-dawn dog walkers and other early commuters,<br />
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Every Wednesday one residential street means I'm scurrying through a jungle of shoulder high dust bins avoiding the bin men. By the time I reach Deptford I can't even hear my headphones from the cacophony of traffic.<br />
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By the time I cycle through Greenwich University, down the residential streets, past the early morning stone carvers, the delivery vans, and the recycling dump trucks at the industrial site by North Greenwich station, I'm more than happy to park my cycle and join the flux of weary morning travelers sipping their coffees and burying their heads in their phones and papers.<br />
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I might occasionally become petulant at my early rising and long commute, but feeling the fresh air (and rain) on my face as I quite literally watch the moon set and the sun rise feeds a part of me in a way that sleep doesn't. And as much as I would love a one person (me) cycle road all the way to work that is straight, not too hilly, scenic, but not in the sticks, and just long enough in all weathers... seeing everyone else up and about, slowing making their morning with me every day keeps me humble, patient, and going to bed early.<br />
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Ok London... 6am is calling me... I need to get to sleep. </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-84755252143003227512014-08-13T21:47:00.000+01:002014-08-13T21:47:26.122+01:00Words that Should Exist: Part 1 <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
A new favourite hobby of mine is trying to capture succinctly in words common concepts and experiences of humans. I'm partially inspired by <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/05/09/illustrations-untranslatable-words-anjana-iyer_n_5295902.html?utm_hp_ref=tw">untranslatable words from other languages</a>, which I'm compiling to highlight the transient nature of language but the solidity of human experience. So this will be a multi-part post as I compile experiences and/or the words to describe those experiences. Please do respond with suggestions.<br />
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<li>beach fever - the feeling of being hot and cold at the same time that happens at the beach </li>
<li>(need word) - the instant feeling of refreshment from walking barefoot on grass </li>
<li>(need word) - the positive feeling of excitement you get when you miss someone </li>
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-28738394374780305262014-03-15T11:00:00.003+00:002014-03-16T19:37:31.200+00:00My Other Half <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with 4 arms, 4 legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.” ― <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/879.Plato" style="text-decoration: none;">Plato</a></span></h1>
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People who say that Eastern philosophy is dead in the West need to check out our attitudes of love and romance. Everywhere you go ideas of "incomplete", "better half," "significant other," "partner," and now even "relationship synergy" abound. Millions of people have taken to dating websites, marriage websites, and I believe that now 1-8 marriages found each other online. WOW. Yin and Yang philosophies abound, that the dichotomy of man and woman (or woman/woman, man/man) is a balance that exists for a reason, that we complete and fulfill one another, and that being alone is bad.<br />
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In the age of internet quiz mania (which I absolutely love btw), we can find our <a href="http://www.zimbio.com/quiz/Scwx-huKblZ/Disney+Prince+True+Love">Disney Prince</a>, discover <a href="http://www.zimbio.com/quiz/AziPjdw11w5/Who+s+Your+Celebrity+Boyfriend">Your Celebrity Boyfriend</a>, (I could go on, alas, but I won't.)<br />
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Even more embedded in the Chinese philosophy of balance and embodying yin and yang is the dragon and the phoenix. Traditionally also representing the Emperor and his Empress, the dragon embodies justice, power, and all things masculine. The phoenix, on the other hand, is mercy, healing, grace and other traditionally feminine virtues.<br />
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While internet quizzing may not be the way forward, now, more than ever, society is studying human cultures, impulses, drives, talents, and voices. We want to know about the experiences of different races, religions, sexes, genders, (I could go on). But often one voice that is always heard with sarcasm and derision is the voice of the celibate. The voice of people who have chosen to forego sex, to not seek for balance within a partner, but within themselves. I do acknowledge that many couples don't adhere to the "complete me" mentality; however, I still find it as a default attitude in many people and cultures that I encounter.<br />
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So as a single almost-30, I've been lauded for my hard work and prowess, and derided for being "too independent," "too clever," and even been told "men like women who need them." And while I didn't give into those taunts that I'd be single forever unless I toned down my independence, a part of me bought the dichotomy philosophy, and I focused on being the phoenix: I became gentle, I invested in people, I worked on my care giving, I improved my listening techniques.<br />
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<a href="http://sd.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk/i/im-a-damsel-im-in-distress-i-can-handle-this-have-a-nice-day-3.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://sd.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk/i/im-a-damsel-im-in-distress-i-can-handle-this-have-a-nice-day-3.png" height="320" width="192" /></a>None of that is wrong. There is nothing wrong with gentleness, peace-making, listening, mentoring, etc. It's to be applauded wherever it is found. The mistake I made was within myself to say, "I'm the phoenix, I take care of people and sometimes others take advantage of me, so I need a dragon... someone who will stop others from taking advantage, protect me, support me. Someone I can nurture and heal."<br />
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Being a martyr and letting people take advantage of your gentleness isn't being a phoenix. Waiting for someone to rescue you isn't a good thing. Sometimes us single girls have to rescue ourselves. So now that I've developed the phoenix in me, (and my inner dragon has laid dormant for a while) I need to get back to developing the dragon. For me, this does not mean being masculine, but walking the line of grace and justice. Forgive people, but let them know they hurt you. Invest in others, but not at the sacrifice of your own health and well being. For me, this also means that I've started taking jiu jitsu classes.<br />
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One of my passions is educating the more forlorn members of the world. My dream is to move to Brazil and work with street children and ex-prostitutes. Every person I've talked to about this has mentioned how dangerous Brazil can be. While the Brazilian people I've met are generous and loving, many Brazilian women have told me horror stories of misogyny in their country. While a lot of men are now standing with women for women's rights, there are still men who feel entitled to prey on women. More often than not this happens in developing cultures. Like the people I most want to reach. So should I wait for a man to marry me and join in on my quest? #Ain'tnobodygottimeforthat. No. I'll take jiu jitsu and hone my self defense skills. I'll read up on the risks and dangers of this part of the world--I'll invest in the dragon part of myself.<br />
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Proverbs 27:17 says "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." </blockquote>
While this verse has been adopted in many marriage ceremonies, the original context was living in community. Being friends and family with others. I love this verse because it shows the importance of being in relationships with others without implying deficiency. Iron is iron, regardless of other iron being around: a sword, a shield, a knife, a spear. Whatever tool or instrument you are, YOU are YOU, whole and complete, just as you are. The other iron--the partner, friend, family member, community--they make you better than you were before, but don't complete you. Yes, we all have tendencies and personality traits in any number of psychologically and emotionally measurable rubrics, but we don't have to wait around for the right people to come around to balance us out. We can see and know ourselves and balance ourselves out. This way, we're giving our communities, our partners, our friends and family even more of the good in ourselves--we aren't expecting others to be what we need them to be in order to be what we are. So take a deep breath, drink in peace in the knowledge that you, all by yourself, are whole, complete, and awesome. Good talk. High five!<br />
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Psalm 139: 14 "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well."</blockquote>
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-53312892498417119432014-02-04T21:16:00.001+00:002014-02-04T21:16:30.790+00:00Letting Go <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I run a pretty fab team of ESL teachers at my high school. We have good times, have lunch together frequently, like going to parties, get pretty good work out of the students. We've got routines. We've got team work. We know each other's strengths and weaknesses.<br />
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So when one of my best teachers informed me she was going for a job interview, I felt my heart drop into my kidneys... it was not fun.<br />
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I felt extremely torn. On the one hand, she's my friend, she'd fabulous and any institution would be lucky to have her; on the other hand, tears of sadness sprung into my eyes at the thought of her leaving, not to mention all of her skill, experience, and expertise - she would be difficult and expensive to replace.<br />
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Let's be honest - I could have been a complete jerk. Threatened her with giving a bad reference. I could have refused to let her take off work with pay. I could have done a lot of things. But part of training and mentoring my team members should mean that one day they go off and run teams of their own, right? Doesn't this simply mean I've done my job well?<br />
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The other not-so-small twinge of doubt that also sidled into my mind told me that maybe my image of a happy and whole department was an illusion of my own making - maybe my department wasn't happy and I haven't done a very good job at leading and mentoring them. #shock #horror #dunDunDUN!<br />
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So how do I broach that potentially very awkward conversation?<br />
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The only way I know how to move forward in situations like this is just to be as honest and genuine as I can be, showing both sides of my mind and be open and candid. I didn't want to use manipulative, emotional pleas. I didn't want to be a tool. I didn't want to worry about our department - people have come and go before and we've moved on, yet I also wanted to make sure she knew how valued she was in our department.<br />
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While everything worked out - the interviewers and she decided they didn't want each other - and she also let me know before the interview that she was happy on our team (other family concerns prompted the application), I can't pretend that I'll work with the same team forever. I had to let go of many things to do the right thing - trying to control this situation would have spat on a good team member and definitely broken up the team bond we have.<br />
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While I don't want to sound like I'm patting myself on the back, I'm glad I had the integrity and heart to be honest and vulnerable, and in a sense, be weak as the situation transpired. Even if it doesn't turn out the same way in the future and I 'lose' a great team member, knowing that I'm doing right for them personally, professionally, not merely thinking of change as a threat, makes me feel as though I've grown as a leader.<br />
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It's sometimes a long, lonely road - leading a fairly high-functioning team in a difficult school - but I love the challenge and I love the ladies I face the challenge with. It's as much my responsibility to do right by them than as to do right by our performance tables.<br />
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Ok, good talk, guys! </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-65118855859066079572013-12-26T18:39:00.000+00:002013-12-26T19:40:40.027+00:002013 Year in Review: <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Every year I like to look back at all the things I've done, circumstances I've gone through, amazing experiences I've had and all the awesome people God's brought into my life. This is going to be a bit long, but well done for making it to the end in advance! :) </div>
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<a href="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=ef406491b4&view=att&disp=safe&realattid=ii_1432ff52db72fbf7&zw" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Inline image 2" border="0" data-surl="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=ef406491b4&view=att&th=1432ff56d3785f44&attid=0.1&disp=safe&realattid=ii_1432ff52db72fbf7&zw" height="238" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0/?ui=2&ik=ef406491b4&view=att&disp=safe&realattid=ii_1432ff52db72fbf7&zw" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial;" width="320" /></a>January: The year started with a bang! I had an awesome NYE in the US with friends (the first in a long time). When I made it back to London work came crashing down with an Ofsted inspection as soon as we started work. A midst the panic we made it through and were given a Good (for those out of the UK teaching system loop, the Grades are: Unsatisfactory, Requires Improvement, Good, Outstanding.) We'd never been good before and it was a huge accomplishment for our school, which had been deemed Unsatisfactory 5 years before. I also celebrated the first anniversary of the reopening of St. Luke's church with an amazing ceilidh (Scottish folk dancing) celebration. </div>
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March: More than anything else, 2013 has been a time when I wanted to get my health in order. I've never been very sporty, and I signed up for the Tough Mudder in order to MAKE myself train. In March I got serious about going to the gym, especially a power circuits class (think Crossfit) and I started reading too many articles on LiveStrong Blog and my 2 besties convened and had a "Come to Jesus" meeting with me being a bit too obsessed about my "health" aka my body image/food choices... This is the best part about having best friends - when they love you enough to tell you about yourself. The end of March also was when I got very ill, which put a huge damper on my Tough Mudder training and my doctors told me I couldn't train and I was depressed and sick and in general not happy with myself. </div>
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April: Despite being sick for most of April, I took myself to Nice, France, a gorgeous beach area on the Mediterranean and hung out with Abbie, a lovely girl from college that came back into my life when she did grad school in Birmingham. It was lovely getting close with her, and it was lovely running around the beaches and through tangled old cities and trying to speak French. With 2 weeks till the Tough Mudder, I got myself into long runs and lots of adventures at work - like organizing Community Language exams. This sort of forced me to meet some of my neighbors and becoming friends with them has changed me so much and given me a heart for community work. March was lonely and sad, but April was full of new adventures and love. </div>
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May: May brought the Tough Mudder and it was very challenging, but I'm so glad I did it and I will one day get back to training that hard again. May was the month that I finally felt confirmation in my heart to apply for Grad school - Masters of Education at Greenwich University. So after a few years of waiting and planning, I actually applied - the biggest career/personal development I'd done in a long time. </div>
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June: In June I turned 29 and it was a lot of fun - I hung out with my neighbors a lot, got into community at St. Lukes, made it out of exams alive with all my students, and just enjoyed life. It was the best month for me to realize how many people God's blessed me with, people in my life and who love me. </div>
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July: July was full of joy and sadness; I got accepted into grad school and a lot of my mind was preoccupied with financial and administrative preparations for that. My awesome friend Sarah came to visit and we got to go to Edinburgh together, and I had to say goodbye to someone special as I prepared to visit my family for the summer. #alloftheemotions </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U5t_QBO8uKI/UrxuU7umADI/AAAAAAAADys/aUVwUW31gwA/s1600/Maine13+(9).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-U5t_QBO8uKI/UrxuU7umADI/AAAAAAAADys/aUVwUW31gwA/s320/Maine13+(9).jpg" width="320" /></a>August: August was full. Very full. My mom and I road tripped to Maine to see her best friend after an epic family and friends BBQ. I connected and reconnected with a lot of friends and many walks were ambled and much coffee was drunk as we shared our hearts. </div>
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September: Just when you've worked somewhere for 5-6 years and you know how everything should go, everything is different. This summer, our school got a new network and we lost some amazing people to voluntary redundancies, and so September was the month of not knowing how to do anything anymore like print things, photocopy, or even, turn on your computer... By the time we got ourselves sorted... it was October. </div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8-0bkeQBPKw/UrxwLrSo90I/AAAAAAAADy4/dQ2lwlOoIuc/s1600/DSC_0196.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8-0bkeQBPKw/UrxwLrSo90I/AAAAAAAADy4/dQ2lwlOoIuc/s320/DSC_0196.jpg" width="320" /></a>October: The first week of October Ofsted came back again with a new framework and slightly dismal inspectors and after a lot of freaking out and 5am get-ups, we scrounged a "Requires Improvement"... right as I was beginning my first MA class... and life has been a challenge since then. After a quick regrouping, lots of meetings, and data analyses, I decided I needed a mini-break and took myself to Canterbury, where the seat of a lot of British history, and the Church of England inspired me with tales of the saints and the beauty of a very historical city. </div>
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November: I worked and worked and, um, worked in November. A lot of the work that needed to happen from Ofsted happened during November and also the majority of my Grad school class. When I wasn't working, I was reminiscing on my year, processing where I am and where I think I'm going. One of the biggest things for me this year was letting go of a lot of the stuff I was doing and hoping, just hoping, that people would love me anyway, if I wasn't serving them all the time. Come to find out, people do love me, and stepping back and focusing on my MA has allowed a lot of beautiful people in my life to reach out to me and love on me and invest in me and it's been beautiful, even if locking myself in the library and reading education articles till my eyes can't focus isn't always the height of fun. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TTgFiOMtUA8/Urx1nJYZlmI/AAAAAAAADzI/ka3z1LM-jYw/s1600/Carols13+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TTgFiOMtUA8/Urx1nJYZlmI/AAAAAAAADzI/ka3z1LM-jYw/s320/Carols13+(1).jpg" width="240" /></a>December: December is always a kind of culmination - and after a year of learning how to do sound engineering at church I helped lead a team of people who ran our Carols Service - doing sound for an orchestra, choir, and band was insane, but amazing. Part of me still can't believe that I did it! I also took time to appreciate my team at work - the wonderful ladies I work with have been working diligently and part of my mentoring them has included telling them to rest and take breaks - and also trying to take my own advice. Graduate school while working has been a big sacrifice in my life - financially, socially, with my time and energy - I've had to set aside those assets that I used in other ways for this sacrifice that I'm excited to pursue. God, in his abundance, has provided friendship, love, and time for me to do everything I need to do. More than anything, He's been counselling me and helping me prioritize things, hopefully so that as I grow, I have more wisdom and discernment for my work, my education, and my personal life. I know he's trying to train me in loving people, in being wise, in what it means to belong. </div>
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Overwhelmingly this year God has kept telling me that I have enough time... every deadline, every time I worry that my life isn't yet what it should be, He's there reminding me how far I've come, and that He's giving me time to get there. I just have to keep moving forward. I'm excited to see what new challenges and blessing I'll face in 2014 and the friends and family he'll bless me with along the journey. </div>
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-49653437969374581572013-11-23T23:23:00.001+00:002013-11-23T23:23:22.272+00:00The Whistle <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I heard it today. The whistle. I was just coming up the stairs to go to bed and I heard it... it wasn't the right tune of course, but I was curious. Who else would whistle on my street, outside my window loud enough that I could hear it half-way down my stairs? Silly single-paned windows. But even though I looked outside with half-hearted earnest (I was prepared for no one to be standing there), a twinge twisted in the sinews of my heart for just a moment and I remembered my little bird, and I missed him.<br />
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My little bird... but you are always everywhere. The chasm of everything we don't say to each other keeps filling up because words... words are too small for what we're feeling right now. Most of the time I can hold in all the words: the moments I wanted to tell you about, the thoughts I had about the book, the film, the smile, the strange encounter - it's been months, but I still have the urge to tell you everything. When I don't think I can take it anymore, and I feel like all the words I'm holding back are going to burst out of me like emotional bulimia, I come here to twist my purging into some weird art.<br />
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My little bird... I still see your smile, hear your laugh; I still wonder what you would think about things, the recipe I'm trying, the outfit I'm wearing... would I see a crinkled nose? Would you throw your head back in your enthusiastic way and laugh heartily - I do miss your laugh... it was just like you: genuine and straight from the heart.<br />
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Please don't think I don't understand... I do. You see, my heart is lying to me... she's telling me that you could be the most important person in my life, and me to you... she's telling me that we're wasting so much time being apart - if we really love each other, we'll never get these moments back. But she's wrong - what's happening now in our hearts, in our minds, in our lives - these things are important right now. These things are forming us, even this terrible distance, even imagining my little bird outside my window, even understanding that we need this time apart... these things are important. I have to believe this, even if it turns out not to be true, I'm going to believe it because it's terrifying to think that one person not being in my life could ruin my life. Could I give anyone that much power? Not that I'm impervious - oh no - you have power, influence... a lot of it, my dear, but even you won't leave my life a ruin. How could you? You've only done positive things in my heart; only tore down ruins and rebuilt encouragement and love... these edifices stand intact: no ruin here, I assure you.<br />
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So I tell myself over and over: you will have all the time you need. And I believe it. And I hope.<br />
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So please hope too... the words aren't coming because I'm afraid I'd drown you in the deluge and right now prudence is needed. One day will be a day for words; for now, silence and hope and heart-wrenching little whistles that are not my bird outside my window. </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-74473675241438217292013-11-11T20:31:00.002+00:002013-11-11T21:03:43.750+00:00I am afraid of you now ...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Yes, you... I guess I always have been, somewhere. People always seem terrified of the ones they love best. The ones who have nuzzled down into your heart and you know if they came out you would bleed to death. Wow. That sounds dramatic.<br />
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I am afraid of you so I sit in silence and listen to your silence and the space of everything we're not saying and yet I cannot feel that you do not love me.<br />
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All of the actions, inactions, nonactions... the nothing that is between us now: most people would say let go - it's clear he's gone. He doesn't want anything to do with you. He doesn't love you anymore. But there is this heart string attaching us... a tiny wire made of ether running straight from the tip of my aorta to yours... and it says to hold on. This little voice inside me whispers to me "Don't let go."<br />
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So I can't manage to cut the string.<br />
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But I am afraid of you when I see you online. Afraid of it's instantaneousness. I would reach out and you would KNOW and I would know that you knew, and you would know that I knew that you knew... and in that moment of too much knowing, the string might snap.<br />
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No. No. It's better this way. I will send you letters very seldom. There's so much safety in letters. They can get lost in the mail. They can be misplaced. I cannot know that you got them, or aren't sleeping with them under your pillow, or aren't crying into them with devotion... I can't know, and because I can't know...<br />
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hope can exist there in that space - the space between everything we feel, everything we want to say and the nothing that we communicate.<br />
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I can't tell you how long I will have hope... you see, the string is there, and I can feel your heart still thumping even if the connection is bad - it's there.<br />
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I can't tell you if the string will be pulled out, if the wind will whip it suddenly, if birds will nest on it and weigh it down, if in a fiery rage I'll rip my own chest open and dislodge you from my heart where you've nested.<br />
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They say love is a choice - but honestly, I don't feel very choosy right now. There was the cute guy on the train - witty, helpful - there was the cute, new guy at church, the man making eyes at me on the train - my eyes glazed over with boredom... I'm sure they're lovely men, but my string is attached only to you. I considered the possibilities, I reasoned with myself "It's been months... why not try something new? You don't seem sad - this could be great for you!" And yet, I don't want them. I don't want them... If love is a choice, I feel like I've already signed my name. I'm sitting here quietly living my truth.<br />
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If you never come back perhaps my name will fade and I'll feel free again - but oddly I never felt more free than in the prison we built together. And true freedom is terrifyingly lonely.<br />
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And I'm not angry... I'm not bitter... I'm not desperate... I'm quite calm - the string, I'm letting slack out, giving you plenty of space, giving the string room for you to wander around - if you detached your end I might not even know for a while, but the occasional twitch tells me you're still there.<br />
<br />
Others... I'm also afraid of others - but only sometimes. If I saw myself I would think I am pathetic. It's only because I don't see myself, I feel myself, that I can feel the iron core deep within me, that heart full of love pumping strongly. I'm not wasting away - my cheek isn't wan, my muscles not weak, my conversation not droll, my ideas haven't gone flack - loving you silently isn't taking it's toll on me. It's not a weakness, this vulnerable, strange, silent love - no.<br />
<br />
I am terrified of you, but part of me has also never felt so sure. I'm terrified of myself, of what will happen, of everything in the future, yet I only see one path among a labyrinth of choices and I keep plonking one foot right in front of the other one - taking ground into the impalpable mist.<br />
<br />
I keep moving forward, and yet all my choices are seeming to lead towards you but they are for me... they are not choices motivated by you, but by me, but this string in my heart... the attachment never lets me forget. Would that I could settle into a harmony with myself... like fingers of the same hand that work together seemlessly - my heart and I - alas, no, I must move forward, seemingly toward you, but not for you, but for these big things ... one step plonked in front of another... and I can't let go, and I can't forget, and I can't turn or I'm no longer in truth.<br />
<br />
I am afraid of you, the way all people are terrified of the ones they love best. </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-89025593116833853762013-11-11T20:01:00.000+00:002013-11-11T20:01:26.915+00:00Remembering <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have a friend at work who's a former serviceman, a veteran, if you will, and I wished him a Happy Remembrance Day and thanked him for his service, and it couldn't have been more awkward. "It's such a big thing in the States, isn't it?" He smiled at me, trying to blow off my gratitude with humor, but somehow I can't believe that England doesn't care for their veterans as much (at least verbally so) as the US. Giant poppies are plastered all over everything including buildings and trains. The metro is a sea of poppies, schools and businesses paused today for a 2-minute silence, and school assemblies and public television have been showing war films, telling war stories, and running documentaries on wars and veterans. In the US, there's the famous Veteran's Day Sales going on "People gave their lives - Everyone shop!"<br />
<br />
After a short pause in our talk, my friend looked me in the eye and said "Honestly, no one's ever thanked me before or mentioned Remembrance Day to me." Perplexed, I returned, "But don't they know you? Don't they know you served?" "Well it isn't a secret" was his casual reply.<br />
<br />
So again, British stiff upper lip is to blame for this. Let's not share our feelings. Let's not mention things... Leave it to the American to break out an effluvium of gratitude on Remembrance Day... I refrained from giving him a hug right there in the corridor. If I had, he'd probably have run away in terror or broken down in tears...<br />
<br />
Still, I am grateful to all of the men and women who have volunteered, who have served, who have trained, fought, healed, traveled, who have given moments of their lives that they can never get back in the service of peace throughout the world.<br />
<br />
You are remembered. Thank you. </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-89711363370667154632013-10-20T01:05:00.001+01:002013-10-20T01:05:56.918+01:00Tonight I can write... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #444444;"><b>Tonight I can write the saddest lines</b></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #444444;"><b>Tonight I can write the saddest lines.<br />Write, for example,'The night is shattered<br />and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'<br />The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.<br />Tonight I can write the saddest lines.<br />I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.<br />Through nights like this one I held her in my arms<br />I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.<br />She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too.<br />How could one not have loved her great still eyes.<br />Tonight I can write the saddest lines.<br />To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.<br />To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.<br />And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.... Pablo Neruda </b></span></blockquote>
Sometimes people make choices for you and you get some ice cream, and even if you didn't have any part of the decision making process, and even if you don't particularly love the flavor they picked, you still get ice cream, and that's usually ok unless you're diabetic or lactose intolerant.<br />
<br />
Then sometimes people make decisions for you and it means that no matter how much you love them, no matter how much you felt their love, and they said they loved you, they choose not to communicate with you or answer your communication. This type of decision pretty much sucks because you want to have faith in this person. You want to believe that the love meant something. You want to believe that you aren't the kind of person who can be thrown away. You want to believe that all of this non-communication is for a reason, that there's some answer to it all that maybe you just don't see right now and if this person would just get back to you everything would be clear.<br />
<br />
I discovered Pablo Neruda in middle school and he's been one of my favorite poets since then. This amazing poem has so often been my comfort when relationships go on pause or end or turn sour. It encompasses all the "not thereness" you feel, staring up at the beautiful night sky, feeling the cool evening breeze, knowing that any other night, this person would be there with you, shielding you from the chill, but now you shiver and the moon is so bright and shining down on you, seemingly asking you where your person is... Where is he? He's far away and I tried to talk to him and he's not responding and I want to believe it's for a reason, but, Moon, I'm not sure. Maybe it's just you and me.<br />
<br />
Because though it is easier not talking, let's face it, it's easier, especially when the Moon is shining on us from so far away... When I can't reach out and grab his hand to make him look at me, or feel his eyes searching me for an answer. When he can't see my lips purse suddenly as I have a thought and he can read the meaning without me saying... when those things can't happen, talking isn't easy.<br />
<br />
It isn't easy, but part of me is rebellious because this wasn't my choice - not entirely. Even if I agree, it wasn't decided <i>with</i> me, it was decided <i>for</i> me, and now I just don't know what. That little voice in my heart believes even when practicalities tell me to give up hope. And walking home with the Moon, past the groups of people heading out, past the pairs and trios of friends laughing and smoking cigarettes on their way home, past the couples leaning into each other away from the breeze, holding hands... And me, staring up at the Moon, wondering if he was staring up at the moon and thinking of me; Staring up at the moon and missing the dark, smiling eyes, the freckle at the end of his nose, the list could go on... Just missing... a lot seems missing tonight, but thank you Moon, for the brilliant light, for shining... I needed you tonight. </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-63613397865452403252013-10-15T19:15:00.000+01:002013-10-15T19:15:34.501+01:00Letting Go: The Online Plague <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So this confessional blog post may end up being sappy and girly. Readers beware.<br />
<br />
I don't know how I feel about how practical online communication is when going through a break up. Even if it's not a "bad break up." Both parties agree about the situation, you've decided to be friends, there's some sadness, yes, but it's the distance, and both of you just aren't in the right "space" for a relationship. It doesn't seem so bad.<br />
<br />
So my life went back to the way it had been before L. My heart has been healed by him. My life enriched, yes, but he met me in an awesome part of my life - I was flourishing then. So of course the absence of him leaves a mark, like that fingerprint on the banana that turns into the first bruise. But, if we remember, the brown bananas are the sweetest, and I wouldn't take it back for anything.<br />
<br />
L went back to Brazil. Let's face it - neither of us planned on falling in love while he was here studying. It just happened. It is the right thing to say goodbye, whether it's for now or forever. We'll see.<br />
<br />
But we both said good bye and let's be friends and we'll keep in touch as we entered perhaps the busiest time of our lives. And normally this wouldn't be so bad. Normally it's AWESOME to be busy after a break up because you have something to pour all of your energy into - all the energy that would normally go into loving that person needs to go SOMEWHERE and now it has an outlet. I remember after my first real break up when I was 13 I joined like 50 clubs at school and within a year was running most of them. I can credit most of my extra curriculars to J and I breaking up in 1999.<br />
<a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_liss6i1fBv1qztyuko1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_liss6i1fBv1qztyuko1_500.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
So anyway, I'm high on coffee, I'm getting shit done, I'm being AWESOME, and then I see L pop online and I pull a full-on Carrie Bradshaw.<br />
<br />
In my head I know he's busy being awesome in Brazil; rocking work, university, and 2 household moves - throw in volunteering for flair - and trying to have a life with a very large Brazilian family. It's a wonder he sleeps.<br />
<br />
<br />
But that doesn't stop the ice from running through my veins when I see him come online and not say hi to me. Because the high-maintenance part of me that is still a 15-year-old-girl wants attention, and assumes there's a reason he isn't talking to me, and she basically goes ape shit, and THEN I sign off because it's TORTURE to be online and trying to control myself and NOT message him and just WAIT for him to message me, and then because I sign off, I think that maybe he was going to talk to me, but I've just run away from him. No matter how I look at it, I fail.<br />
<br />
I've had a few long distance boyfriends and after a while, it usually gets to the point where we know it can't go anywhere - where we both know that we wanted logistics to work, but they aren't, and skype dates (even all night ones) (that's not what I meant) (don't be dirty) aren't the same as lying in someone's arms. But it's ok because after you unfriend them from every social media outlet ever, they already live far away so you never have to run into them or see them - and let's face it, you need to disconnect online or you'll just end up stalking them endlessly and who wants to be THAT girl? Not me.<br />
<br />
I also know that the crazy 15-year-old in my head is nuts. I know that he doesn't hang out online all day purposefully ignoring me, that he checks stuff, organizes something and heads out (because that's just how he rolls). I know that what's happening with the silence is bigger than how we feel about each other. I also know that the silence is easier, I'm assuming for both of us, because after you break up, when you want to be together, and logistics just are lame, and you're used to talking about everything everyday, you analyse every word, every pause, every hesitation, to see if this person still loves you, or is letting go of you. It's easier to believe we're still friends when we don't talk in rushed chat messages, waiting to have a (hopefully one day) meaningful conversation.<br />
<br />
Every look used to be meaningful, every sigh, but we agreed to forego those things, and focus on what we needed to do in our lives - our other responsibilities. Because let's face it, real life isn't a romantic comedy where both people can just quit their jobs and move across the world with the no money they have and end up being happy.<br />
<br />
So 15-year-old girl in my head, SHUT UP, because you're ruining the silence. You're ruining the I-get-it-ness that I'd been experiencing as I let out slack in this relationship, but hold onto the end to see what comes of it. We both agreed we wouldn't let go, and maybe in time we'll both be able to come up for air long enough to figure stuff out. But till then, I need to trust in the person I fell in love with. Even if he's far away and silent, he's still him.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-53173053547354368762013-10-13T21:47:00.000+01:002013-10-13T21:48:14.520+01:00"The Best Way to Fight Terrorism: Education" - One Interview with Malala <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I won't bungle this blog with a lot of words. I hope you've seen the interview Malala did with Jon Stewart on The Daily Show. Besides the great irony he shows with his NJ joke, he does sit back and let Malala do most of the talking.<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On being asked about how to end terrorism: </div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/gjGL6YY6oMs?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I think education is the best way.... Going to school isn't only learning about different subjects. It teaches you <i>communication</i>; it teaches you <i>how to live</i> a life. It teaches you about history; it teaches you about how science is working and other than that, you learn about <i>equality</i> because students are provided with the same benches, <i>they sit equally</i>. It shows us <i>equality</i>; it teaches us <i>how to live</i> with others - how to<i> accept</i> different languages, how to <i>accept</i> each others' traditions and each others religions. It also teaches <i>justice</i>; it also teaches<i> respect</i>. It teaches us to <i>live together</i> - that's why I support sending children to school because<i> it's the best way to fight terrorism</i>." </blockquote>
Once again, the invisible, unofficial curriculum wins.<br />
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-55867517012205936732013-10-10T19:07:00.001+01:002013-10-10T19:11:08.549+01:00Loving your Neighbors: ESOL Class and Inter-faith Crushes <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="http://data1.whicdn.com/images/13986003/black-white-and-asian-panda-580x576_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://data1.whicdn.com/images/13986003/black-white-and-asian-panda-580x576_large.jpg" width="320" /></a>So I have an adorable ESOL class that I adore. They are sponsoring an orphanage in India. And today, we had an in-depth discussion about inter-racial and inter-faith marriage. You see, Maria has a crush on Mohammed, a young Bangledeshi boy who grew up in Spain. Maria is a feisty mixed-race Portuguese girl, and she loves the boys. So while Maria keeps coming after poor Mohammed in Spanish, he smiles and just runs away from her.<br />
<br />
"Miss! He's black! His skin is darker than mine!" she let peal out over the classroom.<br />
"No Maria, he's brown - he's Asian. He's from Bangladesh."<br />
"But Miss! He speaks Spanish, and look! Look at his hair! If we had babies, what kind of hair would they have?" (She has kinky African hair, but a lighter, caramel colored skin).<br />
<br />
We're all laughing because all of the kids in my class are confident to talk about ourselves like this. They know they are beautiful and special, the blond hair, blue-eyed ones to the dark brown Asian ones, to the black skinned mixed-race children.<br />
<br />
So... As the convo continued, it emerged that Mohammed was Muslim, so he eats halal.<br />
"What?! He doesn't eat meat?! No BACON! No SAUSAGE?! No CHICKEN?! Miss, in Portugual it's like NANDOS ALL THE TIME!!" (While miming scarfing chicken with both hands).<br />
<br />
Mohammed, this entire time is smiling at how mental she is, and I just have images of her chasing him around with slices of bacon in her hands.<br />
<br />
I love having these intense, candid conversations about race and religion. I love the verve of the loud, crazy girls, and the silly boys and the quiet, shy boys... they're all fabulous. I hope they stay as confident and open as they are now, that they continue to learn about other cultures and religions and even have little crushes.<br />
<br />
Luckily for Mohammed, when Maria found out his parents probably wouldn't like her, she shrugged and said it'd never work since they wouldn't let her eat sausage. The end.<br />
<br />
**Names have been changed. </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-72629562846089556172013-10-01T21:13:00.000+01:002013-10-01T21:13:39.177+01:00Memories that aren't really Memories <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Sometimes I think something is wrong with my brain because I'll remember big events like weddings and concerts and vacations, but I often remember these minute moments within the big events extraordinarily distinctly.<br />
<br />
I just got back from a road trip to Maine with my mom. It was a great time had by all. But the thing I remember, which completely cracked me up, was driving... not just the conditions of the road, but more than how beautiful the lake and forest and general scenery was, more than the stories we told and food we ate, I remembered driving up singing Disney songs with my mom and explaining the meaning of the lyrics to "All the Single Ladies" and the shock when my mom recognized Taylor Swift songs that I have on my ipod (for the gym) (Ok it's a guilty pleasure).<br />
<br />
Last summer a good friend from Boston got married and we drove up in a group to go to the wedding, and as soon as we hit Massachusetts, the people driving just went mental. And every single joke we made about "massholes" came back to me while driving through MA with my mom... every single one :)<br />
<br />
And this sparks further memories of driving up to Boston to see said friend years ago and there was this terrible mystery smell... TERRIBLE! And I could see the people there and where I was sitting in the car and everything, but more than all of that, I remembered that there was this horrific smell.<br />
<br />
While the entire week with my mom was a lot of fun, the double take I did when my mom casually mentioned "this is Taylor Swift, isn't it?" will stay in my mind a lot longer.<br />
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It's like a memory that isn't a real "memory"... it's this seemingly insignificant piece of information that I've grasped onto and my mind has its Vulcan death grip on and will stay forever as a wrinkle on my brain.<br />
<br />
Just like in high school where I was sure I would learn calculus a lot faster if I didn't have every comic book cartoon theme song and a million jingles burned into my mind. I wonder how much "space" I've used up in the endless filing cabinet of my brain for random bits of information, TV commercials, and miscellaneous moments.<br />
<br />
The end.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-41801269102028417462013-07-03T21:08:00.002+01:002013-10-01T21:13:56.133+01:00we're in the same boat now<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #333333;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">"We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now." ~ MLK Jr. </span></b></span></blockquote>
The sky is blue and dotted with low-flying clouds like pillows strewn across the heavens. The breeze is gently rustling the trees and it's a comfortable spring temperature here in London. Tomorrow is July 4th and I'll be missing the patriotic shenanigans in the USA: bbqs, picnics, parades, flags, fireworks, and the food--<i>oh the food!</i><br />
<br />
I can't help but think of my country with a reminiscent, sad, yet proud melange of feeling. The downfall of DOMA, the arming of the Syrian rebels, the slow but steady end to the war in Afghanistan, and all the discussion and (some) action regarding Guatanamo Bay... With Newton and Hurricane Sandy in our wake, Occupy Wallstreet, and a slow crawl out of a recession, the USA, it seems, is in the middle of a bad high school research paper.<br />
<br />
In middle school, at some point or another, a woman with a bun and a pencil skirt will lecture on the nature of narrative conflict, and outline the four main types:<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>man versus man </li>
<li>man versus nature</li>
<li>man versus society </li>
<li>man versus self</li>
</ul>
<div>
While so many movements in the US seem to be moving toward unity, freedom, love, care, so many others seem to favor power, greed, and general disunity. And it seems like everyone disagrees about all of the different issues from business policies, to women's health care, to hipsters. And going beyond merely disagreeing, we won't listen to each other, or even let each other finish speaking, but we make memes, and react and shut each other down and build walls against each other, build boxes of right and wrong and put our friends in them based on the issues that we agree with and disagree with. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We are a country divided in our hearts, not just on specific issues, but against ourselves when we believe that anyone who doesn't agree with us, must be an enemy, must be against us, must be thwarted. Abraham Lincoln famously said </div>
<div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444d53; font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444d53; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>"Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?"</b></span></span></blockquote>
<div>
Yet we set each other on the prowl for potential enemies when we use the "team" mentality, making us feel traitorous if we grow to disagree or learn something new. We might all come from different places, religions, traditional socio-economic backgrounds, ethnicities, etc., but as MLK Jr said, "we're all in the same boat now." This is our country, our world, for better or worse, and we need to work together, and work for each other. We may have differing views on family breakdown in Western nations, but whether you think children need mom's and dad's or just loving adults supporting them, it's clear that when there is dissension in the home, trouble follows. As Jesus said in Matthew 12: 25: </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large; line-height: 20.99431800842285px; text-align: justify;">"Every kingdom divided against itself will be ruined, and every city or household divided against itself will not stand."</b></blockquote>
<div>
One of the most beautiful movements I'm seeing spread across not only the USA, but the world: pockets of people committed and passionate about community, family, and justice. Groups of people not just tolerating differences, but celebrating them--knocking the walls down to let the neighbors in and share their lives and traditions and love with them, regardless of whether or not they agree. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Accordingly, in nature we see that the strongest, most complex organisms aren't homogenous, but rather heterogenous, with all the different cells and parts communicating together effectively. In the last year certain homogenous groups like Westboro Baptist Church and other groups have been wheedling down into nothing, regardless of the hate mongering that happens. And homogenous battle might have worked for the Spartans, but their tiny society collapsed long ago. </div>
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Instead of gazing inward only towards our circle, <a href="http://hipybohemiannerd.blogspot.co.uk/2010/01/i-see-you.html">we need to see each other</a>, not with the eyes of judgement, but with discernment and perspicacity, and ultimately with compassion because we're all broken and messed up. We've all got baggage and pain to share, and we all need mercy and humility and grace and a friend to give us the strength to move forward. It's not acceptable to cry for mercy when we mess up and rage for justice for our neighbor: </div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #444d53; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>"Whenever I hear anyone arguing for slavery, I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally."</b></span></span></blockquote>
And here Abe Lincoln correctly asserts that many of the things which legislatures are writing, judging, and passing are not what they would rally for if they were or if they knew the people who suffered from the laws they passed. Not just knew they existed. Not just knew statistics about them. But really <i>knew</i> them, <i>spent time</i> with them, and<i> listened to</i> their stories and their hearts.<br />
<br />
"We're all in the same boat now," and all over the world people aren't tolerating injustice. Rebellions, demonstrations, and protests are sprouting in countries, cities, and communities across the globe from Brazil to Egypt to the UK. Unrest in North and Sub-Saharan Africa escalates and dissipates only to escalate again. Education is growing in parts of the world, but the equality gap widening in many 'affluent' countries, and scandal after scandal is uncovering the rampant greed and manipulation that plagues much of the world. Hunger, disease, slavery, poverty... and I'm just talking about my hometown. MLK Jr. again declares:<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #333333;">"An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.... </span><span style="color: #333333;">Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness." </span></span></b></blockquote>
We need to get out of our own heads and see others, listen to others, invest in others. In a data driven world which has found a million ways to analyze contemporary life, it seems we've lost sight of what we were trying to gain. MLK Jr. had a dream...<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><span style="background-color: white;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character." </span></b></span></blockquote>
And it seems that some of us, in fighting for or against equality, be it between religions, races, sexes, ages, people with disabilities, people with different sexual orientations, etc., we lose the importance of having integrity, of developing our character, <a href="http://hipybohemiannerd.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/content-of-our-character.html">and being people of character</a>. As St. Paul so scandalously declares in Galatians 3: 28 (so much so that he got ran out of town):<br />
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<span style="background-color: #fffefd; color: #001320; line-height: 21px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b>"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."</b></span></span> </blockquote>
If you want to label me, I'm a 20-something, white, middle-class, educated, independent/liberal, Christian, American woman. I don't claim to have the monopoly on truth or love or goodness, in fact, I mess up a lot, and the most poignant things I said were stolen from MLK Jr., Lincoln, and Jesus. I see so much happening to rip up the structures that propogated hate and injustice, but I also see new hates and new forms of injustice born, and old loves drown through unlistening voices. I love my country; I'm a proud American, but America, like the rest of the world, is broken, and we need to work together to heal her.<br />
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And so I'll leave you with one of the lesser known verses of The Star-Spangled Banner:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand</span></b></span><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white;">Between their loved home and the war's desolation!</span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white;">Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n rescued land</span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white;">Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation.</span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #990000;"><i>Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,</i></span></span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white;">And this be our motto: "In God is our trust."</span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white;">And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave</span></span></b><b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white;">O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!</span></span></b></blockquote>
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Happy Independence Day!<br />
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-39644943239082630552013-03-28T22:27:00.000+00:002013-03-28T22:27:02.040+00:00I still got it So today I got home earlier than usual... It's the last day of term and I just wanted to get out of there. Made a pot of tea, got my little nest ready on the couch with some work and a variety of entertainments to procrastinate with... the take out Vietnamese place with the good curry would be open in an hour. Score.<br />
<br />
I hear a knock at my door and I see a red jacket and think it's the post man. No... It's the British Red Cross canvassing my neighborhood. It's all good. I donate to the BRC--they do fabulous work. I figure I'll have a short chat, and get back to my tea and books. He starts his spiel and asks my name and when I answer, his face lights up... I'm American. He's delighted. He energetically tells me about how much he wants to live in America, how much he loved NYC, what he's studying, interspersing his exclamations with questions--peppering me with details about where I'm from, where I work, why I'm here, etc. etc. We're never going to get to the BRC, I think, but I didn't mind. He was sweet and adorable. Indian. And he's from the neighborhood I lived in a few years ago, so we chat about the local park, the good and bad streets, etc. It's nice. At the end of our 45 min conversation, he wanted to give me a hug... I held out my hand for a handshake, but he pulled me in anyway. It wasn't creepy--he was just sweet.<br />
<br />
In a way it was so weird, but in a nice way. I'm not really used to being "a woman" I guess. Most of the guys I encounter don't seem at all interested in the fact that I'm a girl. At work, I try not to be too much of a woman to my 15 year old students for obvious reasons, co-workers are married or, co-workers (obvs, but yeh), friends are either just that--friends, or married...<br />
<br />
It's been a while since I've gotten chatted up/asked out and especially at the convenience of my own home--hell, in my pjs! He was just shy of asking me out, saying he'd hopefully see me around. I don't think this means he's going to stalk my house, I think it was just wishful thinking, but it was nice to have someone look at me like I'm beautiful and be so excited to know me. It gives me hope that I will one day meet that special someone without having to resort to some sort of internet match making service which I defiantly ignore. :)<br />
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Hot damn! I still got it!Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-80802837250520723922013-03-26T00:10:00.000+00:002013-03-26T00:10:14.685+00:00The Weather of Life <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<b style="background-color: white; color: #500050; font-family: 'trebuchet ms', sans-serif; font-size: 13.63636302947998px;"><span style="color: #993399;">"Courage does not always roar. Sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of the day that simply says 'I will try again tomorrow.'" ~ Pope Benedict XVI</span></b></blockquote>
Not to make this post about women... since it's really going to be about balance, or how life is never balanced, but... I find women trying to find balance all the time, as highlighted in <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-belkin/retro-wife-opt-out_b_2902315.html?utm_hp_ref=daily-brief%3Futm_source%3DDailyBrief&utm_campaign=032013&utm_medium=email&utm_content=BlogEntry&utm_term=Daily+Brief">this article by HuffPost</a>. Yeh, I know, it's another article about working mothers... I enjoyed it, even though the women quoted in it say they were misquoted... whatevs...<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Century, Times, serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 20px;">She told me that while corporate lip-service to workers' needs may have changed, society's definitions have not. The "perfect mother," she says, is still "someone who is always available to her children," and the "perfect worker" is "someone who is always available to work. They are both flawed ideals, but anyone who doesn't live up to it is going to be stigmatized."</span></blockquote>
I think in general that the idea of "dedication" has gotten mixed up with the phrase "always available". We've let technology link us inextricably with everyone so that we can always be connected. Children can text parents all day long. Our friends can poke us whenever they're thinking of us. Apple phones have even made it possible to stalk via GPS our partners/kids (the iphone is EVIL, I <i>knew</i> it!).<br />
<br />
Anyway, women everywhere are searching for work/life balance and I just think this is, as Solomon would say, "chasing after the wind." Work, just like family, friends, and other aspects of "life" has ups and downs... seasons, if you will. Yes, it's not great when multiple facets of life are experiencing torrential downpours at one time, or dry seasons, or whatever weather metaphor we want to use, but generally, the give and take has to happen.<br />
<br />
Lately, things at work have been intense... just a lot going on. I'm seriously looking forward to Easter when I know most of the work will be completed and another season can take hold (the serious training season for Tough Mudder). In a few days I'll be able to rest, run, and relax a bit, and then tuck in and work out till I can do more than 15 pushups and run more than 10 miles. This will continue till May, when I'll face the warm weather and the gradual waning of the school year. Friend time will take over as picnics and coffee/park dates happen (and Oh, they will happen a lot).<br />
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When people are always fighting for balance, I just think that maybe they are trying to do too many things. No one wants to choose, but isn't that wisdom? The privilege to choose has left us trying to do everything and then being unhappy anyway. You have the chance to choose what you want, so why don't you? Isn't the ultimate rebellion not fulfilling every social protocol you're expected to, but throwing off the expectations of others and being satisfied with your own choices?<br />
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I'll leave you with this gem: "Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in fruit salad." Methinks what we, what policy-makers and journalists and analysts need, is not necessarily more knowledge (God knows we are inundated with data), but with the wisdom to see clearly and choose wisely. Not choosing has enslaved women to the expectations of others, just as not having a choice once did. Freedom awaits you. Just claim it.<br />
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-35471980604123739412013-02-22T01:47:00.001+00:002013-02-22T01:47:31.180+00:00Everything is wrong<p>There are days when everything goes wrong.... it started off with a simple mistake: I didn't check the times of the airport coach. But I still got to my flight on time... then the arriving flight was late... then my airplane was damaged so we needed to switch it (after we'd already boarded). Then.... it gets good.... we have to switch planes but since our flight was the last one all the ground crew have gone home and only the airport manager is there.... so we wait. Finally another plane arrives and we use their crew (so we have to wait for them) and a good two hours and a half after we were meant to leave we finally take off. </p>
<p>We land in London Stansted and I go to the "all other passports" lane where there are no officers and we're finally told to join the end of the queue! then the immigration lady wants to take my prints, which is fine but I was told previously that Indefinite Leavers don't have to.... she then tells me I don't have indefinite leave even though it says it on my visa because it has a 10 year expiry.... I wanted to punch her. </p>
<p>Then I run down to the coach station to book my return coach and miss the 130 am coach by 2 mins... the next coach is in an hour.... so I'm sat here freezing and when I get to Stratford I need to get a cab home.... </p>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-83676350348486208582013-02-11T22:57:00.000+00:002013-02-11T22:57:24.671+00:00To converse with the greats <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
To converse with the greats<br />
by trying their blindfolds on;<br />
to correspond with books<br />
by rewriting them;<br />
to edit holy edicts,<br />
and at the midnight hour<br />
to talk with the clock by tapping a wall<br />
in the solitary confinement of the universe.<br />
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Vera Pavlova </div>
Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-20866216682908240252013-01-30T19:46:00.000+00:002013-01-30T19:46:35.699+00:00The Hidden Curriculum <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">"Was not Jesus an extremist for love?... The question is not whether we will be an extremist, but what kind of extremist we will be. Will we be extremists for hate or will we be extremists for love? Will we be extremists for the preservation of injustice or will we be extremists for the cause of justice?" ~ Martin Luther King Jr. "Letter from Birmingham Jail" </span></blockquote>
Today was a bad day in the classroom... Not behaviour. Not lack of work. Not even poor uniform choices... It was lack of PASSION.<br />
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Sometimes I think that my students are like wind up toys that have been stuck in a box for a few decades. Like they are big kids at the edge of the diving pool, but then turn around and jump in the paddling pool...<br />
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Now I'm all for some lazy river action, but there are times I want the crazy tornado water slides...<br />
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Oh no, not these kids... it's like they can't see outside of their very limited twitter feeds.<br />
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Today I'd had enough. I don't think I yelled, but I was indignant. The thing is... I care about them waaaaayyyyy too much. They have suuuuuuucccchhhh potential and they just can't seem to grasp basics like time organisation or how to prioritise assignments or how to stop checking their facebook on their iphones in my lesson. One day... it's gonna happen in my classroom...<br />
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But besides phones and ipods and whatever else... I want these kids to feel something in their day to day lives. To be passionate about something. To "live deliberately" as H.D. Thoreau put it... To care about things and people and not just lived blinded by their own bubble. I want my students not just to care, though, if we're being really honest. I want them to be warriors. To be brave enough to go out into the unjust world and try to make it a better place, even if they fail, even if they are laughed at, even if it's soul-crushingly difficult. I want them, as MLK Jr. put it, to be "extremists for love".<br />
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I got home from work, made a sandwich, and slumped down on the couch, where I've had a copy of Jonathan Kozol's <i>On Being a Teacher </i>sitting untouched for a while. While I thought his book would be a memoir on his teaching experience, and I suppose you could say it is, it's basically a bomb to blow up the machine that is the public school system. He ravages against the mediocrity of "professionalism" that teachers have to adhere to and the "indoctrination" of children through "the system". It's <i>pure genius</i>! I'm glad I'm not the only teacher who feels like she has to hide her rebel soul in the staff room and recant data and information "on message" to inspectors and colleagues. I'm glad that he's been angry about this since 1981, technically before I was born, and that people have felt a deep dissatisfaction with the "traditions" of public schools since then.<br />
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Teachers seem to be people who want and expect more out of people... We will pour our guts out for you if you come along with us and improve. We will tirelessly improve ourselves in order to inspire you: "seldom rewarded in any way at all except perhaps in the one and only way that decent teacher ever find reward: in the gratification of a difficult job well done and in a very basic kind of dignity courageously upheld."<br />
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No, I don't think teachers crave fame and fortune, but we are miniature dictators in our own rights. If I think everyone should share, by God, they share in my room. If I hate your nail polish, off it comes. If I see your phone, it's <i>mine, mine, mine</i> (at least till the end of the lesson). But, to be honest, those aren't really the things I care about... I live for the moments when we discuss music on youtube, and debate current affairs ("Is Bin Laden <i>really</i> dead?"). I want them to prove me wrong about Percy Jackson by their intelligent comments on the text, and see that look in their eyes when they realise they've mastered a skill they couldn't do last year, or last week, or hell , yesterday ("Can anyone remember how to conjugate the present perfect tense? How about adjectival phrases to make complex sentences? Well done! They can also be called appositives!") I want to see them surprise themselves with the extent of their imagination and the skill of their rhetoric. I want to see them connect to characters and feel with them, writing passionately in their defence (even if I disagree). I want to see kids who never thought they could, try and try and try, even if they still don't succeed. I want them to grow into passionate, intelligent people of integrity and conviction.<br />
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The most valuable thing I learned in teacher training was that if I wanted to see something in my classroom, I had to teach it...<br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">"The hidden curriculum... is the teacher's own integrity and lived conviction. The most memorable lesson is not what is written by the student...; nor is it the clumsy sentence published (and "illustrated") in the standard and official text. It is the message which is written in the teacher's eyes throughout the course of his or her career. It is the lesson which endures a lifetime." ~ Jonathan Kozol </span></blockquote>
Here's hoping...<br />
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-62845050969648583222013-01-29T23:05:00.001+00:002013-01-29T23:05:57.463+00:00‘Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him’: For the Love of Valentine's Day<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">"Anything less than this complete trust...would not be love, anything less than pure trust would be a kind of careful negotiation. A careful negotiation isn't love. A person must be willing to be dashed on the rocks or made the fool in exchange for a relationship in order for pure love to take place." ~Donald Miller "Searching for God Knows What"</span></blockquote>
Valentine's day is right around the corner. Red and pink and hearts are everywhere--it's fabulous! Scary Valentines. Cutesy Valentines. Monster Valentines. I love them all really. I love chocolate and flowers and stupid, overstuffed animals. Like, I kinda wanna throw up in the back of my mouth a little, but in that really satisfying I-ate-too-much-cotton-candy-at-the-fair kinda way...<br />
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And all the really bad love songs come out at Valentine's Day...<br />
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I could go on, but this could get ugly...<br />
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Love is messy. It's this series of power moves... trying to find the right balance. Always asking "What do I <i>mean</i> to (insert name here)?!" And if you're anything like me, you always over think everything in the most fabulously catastrophic way...<br />
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Yet, deep down in my veins (ohhhh horrible love metaphor there), I really feel like true love, missing-puzzle-piece, soul-mate, you-complete-me love exists. (There I said it!)...<br />
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And I think real love, like soul-shattering, mind-bending love is always deeply traumatic because you have to be vulnerable... you will lose face... you will cry... you will be a mess... you will fight... it's just the human condition... The balance is to find someone who would do the same for you: be completely vulnerable, holding nothing back, throwing it all in.<br />
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<span style="color: #e06666;">Song of Songs 8:6-7<br />6 Set me as a seal upon your heart,<br /> as a seal upon your arm;<br />for love is strong as death,<br /> passion fierce as the grave.<br />Its flashes are flashes of fire,<br /> a raging flame.<br /> 7 Many waters cannot quench love,<br /> neither can floods drown it.<br />If one offered for love<br /> all the wealth of one’s house,<br /> it would be utterly scorned.</span></blockquote>
There's really nothing else I need to say... and so I'll leave you with all my cheesy idealism and...<br />
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-21083039499401329982013-01-27T22:15:00.003+00:002013-01-27T22:15:47.234+00:00Belonging <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So this is not the exact bird that I saw in my park running this weekend, but it's the same species of bird. I saw two of these birds, feral parrots, apparently, or parakeets, snuggling in the frigid air of the South London park, and it drew me out of my jog into a full stop as I quizzically stared up at the tree branch thinking <i>Why beautiful birds? Why? You could live anywhere! Anywhere! It's SO cold! You don't belong here... </i><br />
<i><br /></i>At this point I felt pretty dumb staring up at the trees while all the joggers I had previously passed ran by me, so I pretended to stretch while I watched the birds snuggling in the frigid winter air.<br />
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I thought, <i>if you've got a buddy, you could probably belong anywhere...</i> and the one bird facing me pondered me back with the one-eyed way of birds when they look at you and sit really still, and eventually, the other bird, who was nuzzling my admirer, turned around and watched me as well, as if to say, <i>Do you mind? We're nuzzling here! </i><br />
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There's a new fox in my neighborhood. How do I know he's new? Because he walks everywhere looking terrified... all the other seasoned foxes know the alley cats' territory, know who walks around drunk, and where all the good bins are... plus, this guy is still pretty plush and clean looking. </div>
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I was walking home from the gym and I saw him sneaking under a fence (foxes always look like they're sneaking somewhere) and he stopped and stared at me with his gorgeous, suspicious yet knowing fox face--<i>is this creature dangerous?</i>--it seemed to think, taking me in. I did what I do with all nervous animals, don't make eye contact, and go about my business as though I'm ignoring it... it shows dominance and sometimes makes them think they haven't been spotted... but he knew. </div>
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How can the feral parrots (saying that will never get old) just so naturally fit in to the atmosphere at the park, all of their body language saying <i>this is my tree, back up off!--</i>and my lil friend the fox seem so out of sorts, as if he knew he should be hiding behind a barn in the countryside, preparing to snatch a chicken? </div>
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Because, let's face it--what's natural isn't always what's literal any more .. I mean, parrots are tropical... and that's just the tip of the iceberg... So methinks that perhaps belonging is a state of your mind, your heart, rather than the biological or natural or expected state of circumstances. I'm not just talking nuclear family either. </div>
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Belonging is more than just the extended people who accept you for you--it's being able to grow and use your gifts and accept others' gifts. It's the barter system of love and community that goes way beyond the social contract. </div>
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After feeling like London was home, but that I didn't belong here... I'm finally starting to know what that feels like. ::warm fuzzies:: </div>
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-669513273835639802.post-18365346583544698672013-01-26T12:52:00.001+00:002013-01-26T12:52:49.493+00:00When Will My Life Begin... <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Shakespeare said "To thine own self be true"... good old fatherly advice from Polonius to Laertes, as he's telling his son to run away (irony was definitely Shakespeare's strong suit). And I try to be, true to myself, usually. But lately, I keep feeling like there are so many awesome things out there to do, that I don't know what to do. Hence, I end up doing nothing, inundated by all of these choices, I just read and take a nap. <div>
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Which is fine. </div>
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Cause I work hard and naps are definitely due to me. </div>
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But it's almost like there's this buzzing in my veins, and not just because it's winter and I'm getting cabin fever and want to run around in the sunshine. </div>
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I want to DO something. Something awesome. I just can't decide what that is. </div>
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This is more than having a bucket list. It's more than wanting to be famous or popular (which I actually don't want). </div>
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I feel like I spend more time reading about the awesome things that others are doing than actually doing anything. But my hesitancy isn't wanting to do something even better, it's not comparison, it's almost like, I'm trying to find myself, so when I go off to do something, it's authentic and real, not just copying or grasping for attention or legitimacy. </div>
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I spent a lot of my life wanting to be better than other people. I wanted to be smarter and for everyone to know it. I wanted to be different as a rule. I thought about people as posers and sheep and ignorant. </div>
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I don't like that that is who I was, but I know I'm not that person any more. </div>
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Yet, just because I'm not a hater any more, doesn't mean I want to be a joiner--a yes man-- who goes along just to be friendly and be part of the crowd. </div>
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I want to figure out me, and do intentional things, genuine things--things I really care about, things that are important to me. </div>
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Then again, I'm 28, and so many people didn't really start their careers till their 30s... Jesus, Joseph, most of Austen's writing was in her 30s, etc. So I guess I shouldn't have to wait a few more years, but at the same time, I have time... </div>
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I hope I'll get some clarity as the spring awakens... clarity would be nice. </div>
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Jenny Elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04103708370470582938noreply@blogger.com0