NYE

I hate New Years, not that I hate it, it's just lots of expectation rolled up into one night that is never what I think it will be. But, I'll be around people I love and who I know care about me, even if there isn't someone there who I think wants to make out with me at midnight.

Anyways, I was inspired by my friend Emily's blog about what she did, a year in review of sorts. I'll try to think of all that I can remember from 2009, my first full year of blogging, living in my apartment, teaching at French-American, and working with middle schoolers and first time traveling to a developing country.

1/09- Interview at Berkeley, getting excited about other teaching programs in the Bay Area. An epic ski trip to Sugar Bowl (my first New Year's that I enjoyed myself) and bonding with the YUTES over a ski retreat/dance party.

2/09- Hopeful about new friends and relationships. The City Church retreat, feeling connected to others. Learning more about myself through a Reimagine workshop.

3/09- Not getting into Berkeley. Having great friends from high school visit to quelch my disappointment.

4/09- Going home for Easter, spending time with friends in New York from high school and college. Seeing an exhibit that boosted my artistic confidence.

5/09- My birthday. I felt loved and special by my friends here. Tacky prom party turned dramatic, but worth it in the end.

6/09- Fog begins. School is over, start Camp Meg and getting ready for Africa. Travel to SLO, made some intense realizations about myself and my tendencies to assume overly anxious behavior.

7/09- Travel to Africa. Thus began the changing of my worldview, learning that I have so much and figuring out how I specifically want to give back. Experiencing God in a completely new way. Dreaming about the possibilities of going back. Having a hard time once I got back, readjusting to life in the city.

8/09- The more I babysit, the more that I realize I don't know if a) I ever want to have kids and b) would want to raise them in the city. Starting to paint again, finding my inner artistic creativity once more.

9/09- Going back to school, working with a new teacher, running full-speed ahead. Realizing that things won't be the same as they were last year. Evaluating community group.

10/09- My parents' visit, Halloween (Where the Wild Things Are), turning in paper after paper. Thrilled to have new friends from school that I can bond with the whole teaching experience over. Saying goodbye to a close friend. Feeling both isolated and in community with those around me at a music festival.

11/09- Confronted with a hard truth about my progress in counseling. Getting sick on Thanksgiving, only to realize I need to take better care of myself. Time spent with other families, that make me realize that sometimes I'm homesick because I live far away. Learning how to reach out to others who I think need my help, but also knowing that I can't fix them. Dealing with criticism after a harsh but seemingly accurate review from my supervisor. Pleasantly surprised by other people, only to become crushed in disappointment when they don't live up to my expectations.

12/09- Finishing the semester, feeling loved by the kids at school and their families through their generosity, reconnecting with friends that I felt I hadn't seen all semester. Enjoying the time spent at home with my family. Reconnecting with people I hadn't seen since high school and starting to realize how petty my insecurities were back then. Feeling like I want to trust God wholeheartedly, after how He's provided for me through this past year. Acquiring confidence to lead community group.

I realize in writing this how much I tend to focus on relationships, being liked and creating harmony with those around me. That's one of the main threads running through my year: what I did, with whom, and when. But I also grew a lot, learning more about myself and the world around me. Knowing that I am in San Francisco for a specific purpose, learning to be an educator who will facilitate reform and inspire others.

Ra ra ra ra raaaaa

I have the Lady Gaga song in my head. Or I have ever since my brother picked me up from the airport in Pennsylvania and we blasted it in the car on the way home.
I always have this resistance to going home at first, once I'm there and more adjusted, I'm more comfortable, and then it's hard to leave and come back to life here.
I kept thinking on the plane ride yesterday that I live far away from home. Not that it's good or bad, but that I never realized how far it was before. It's usually my parents coming to see me versus me coming to see them and so sometimes I forget how long the plane ride/travel process can be.
And every time I come back to the city, I get a little anxious. Maybe because I worry about what I've missed or what I've committed myself to for the next few days, weeks, months. I get an email about books and I'm already thinking about next semester. I see my room and my unfinished painting and other art projects and feel like I need to finish. I take kids on their scooters on the sidewalk and people make comments at us or try and run us over as we are walking by. I drive my friend Claudia's car and worry about whether or not I'm parked legally or read the sign for street cleaning correctly.
I'm only here for a few days before I head to Tahoe, but here's to coming back to SF in 2010 and not necessarily finding something to get anxious about. I might just have to dance out my worries to Lady Gaga in the meantime.

Christmas Eve

This used to be a day filled with anticipation building for Santa, reading Christmas stories, and going to the candlelight service at church. Now, it's about Christ coming, the real reason; as I sat in traffic today in York (go figure!) I thought about how often we get that wrong.
I had lunch at Panera bread with friends from middle and high school youth group. God has brought us back together, year after year, even though you may not have not thought so. We've been all over: Micronesia, California, Africa, but we meet back together at the same table each year.
I think that's been the trend this past year: the moment I get disappointed about some allusion I've been creating in my head since childhood, the next I'm pleasantly surprised about what God is doing instead. I might not be at Berkeley getting a masters, but I'm in a program that I love and can get an education while staying at my job. I am not engaged or even close, but God is refining me through so many of my relationships. I feel like I'm finally beginning to heal from ones that have wounded me in the past with the community I have surrounding me.
I can still carry on the traditions of the Eve before Noel, running with my friend Claire, going to church at midnight, spending time with my family. Just because childhood is over doesn't mean I have to be an adult necessarily yet, but I do need to let go of some of my childhood expectations. Ways of thinking the world should be, when it's not. Jesus still came into the world, even though it wasn't perfect.

Peanut butter pretzels

I'm eating them because I didn't have time during class to stomach any more than a salad. I feel like all I can do these days is snack and then move on to the next thing- be it filling out a case study, writing out Christmas cards, or helping a first grader who needs my attention.
It's hard this time of year, to rest, to stop, to wait. I'm trying to be patient this Advent season and see what God has in store.
So far, He's teaching me a lot:
I'm back to taking MUNI after my bike had two flat tires
I can lead my peers just like I can little kids
I can decide to care less what other people think about me
God has more for me than I know or want for myself
I can go and do administrative tasks in the classroom and not be any less of a teacher
I don't have to prove myself with my grades, like I once felt like I had to do
I don't know if people know me in the way I want to be known... (that's the most revelatory one yet)
And lastly, that I have a lot to be thankful for. Not just the 5 things that my roommate Lisa made me come up with during the holiday season that I worked for Louis Vuitton two years ago...

On Jordan's stormy banks I stand

Is how I should be approaching Advent, knowing that "Chilling winds nor pois'nous breath... sickness, sorrow, pain and death are felt and feared no more," because I'm bound for Promised Land. Promised Land that is after holiday craziness, final projects and papers in classes, finishing up three more weeks of school.
I used to love, love this time of year- more for the magic of it, believing in Santa (until I was 12!), and feeling the warmth of Jesus. Now, I'm withdrawn from the materialism and hype of it all, trying to get back into the daily reflection of Advent.
I want to be like Mary and say, "God, do what you want with me," surrender everything. I don't know what He wants me to do. My cousins asked me, "Meg, are you going to stay here for a while, in California? What does your family think?" My answer didn't really do it justice, but yes, I feel like I'm here for a reason, even though there's lack of quiet and space, sometimes sunshine, and cool nights without central heating.
It may be because there's a mom sitting next to me whose kids I have in my class at church. Or because I can feel known by my community. Or because being with my best friend or eleven year olds makes my stomach hurt from laughing.

I'm blogging

Watching the Hills, en route to Los Angeles in the air, so much for minimizing the multitasking. I could even use my iPhone. I made it through the first semester of getting my teaching credential, almost. I had an observation today, I don't know how it went, but I'm thankful to have five days out of the city. And to have turned in projects for my classes, with one in each to go. The overwhelming feeling is starting to recede.
I came home at 3:30 from work. I made the bus to the airport, I navigated BART even though I didn't have change for my fare (the man behind the counter changed my twenty for four fives and told me it never happened).

Today was epic

Because I was able to take constructive criticism for what it was and not crumble to pieces.
Because I could not turn in an assignment that wasn't necessarily due and take my time with it.
Because I am going to try and go to bed early.
Because I rode my bike home on Turk in the rain.
Because I reasoned through situations, thinking that they might have to do more with other people than they do me.
Because I decided that I may not need to please people as much as I think I need to.
Because I feel God's presence in my life now more than I have in a really long time.
Because I could work at school and not feel pulled in ten million directions.
Because I found out that I'm loved by first graders from their parents.
Because I got an encouraging email from a friend.

Detoured

I just saw this documentary about Rogue Wave's drummer who needs a kidney transplant. I love Death Cab for Cutie and all things associated with them- Great Heights, Zoe, both bands at the Greek Theater with my hip uncle and auntie.
It wasn't until just now that I realized my precious lease on life. I've been spending a lot of time lately back in my old patterns of self-pity- so and so doesn't like me, I get made fun of and laughed at, I'm always messing up, I have an overwhelming amount of schoolwork and work work. I'm trying to be myself, but I just end up wanting to please everyone around me. It's like the sixth grader today who told me that all of those things that I try to fill my life up that aren't God is like chewing gum and tricking your mind into you being full just because you are chewing. I thought that was profound. I wish I could have said that thirteen years ago. They also told me no boyfriend, no problems. So right.
I went to Land's End today by myself to check out the rocks and the waves crashing over them, trying to feel that God was going to sustain me through the waves breaking and at times, drowning the rocks. That wasn't a middle schooler who told me that, but one of their parents.
My feelings keep detouring me away from the reality of the situation- that God loves me, that He's excited about me, that He's doing a new thing in me. It might mean singing Beatles songs to Laguna Honda patients on a Saturday afternoon or sharing my life with kids. I want to trust that it's going to be better than the detoured path I've set myself up to take.

City lights

I'm sitting on a Sunday night, looking at the city of San Francisco. Anticipating a David Gray concert. Smelling a new vanilla bourbon Voluspa candle. The fatigue of the last few weeks caught up to me this week, manifesting itself in my contacts glued to my eyes, groggy mornings, and afternoon naps. I laid in the park yesterday, today I laid on the couch.
I'm realizing that living here, things become more stressful sometimes than they would somewhere else. That I need some space every once and a while to be by myself, write papers, read a book, connect with God. I don't have to be doing something every minute or think about what other people are doing while I'm resting, what I'm missing out on.
Babysitting last night, I thought about how it would be hard to be home all of the time when you have kids. My lifestyle is so opposed to being home and still, it never happens. Spontaneity actually refreshes me, planning seems to zap the energy from me. I feel more expectation when there is build-up.

Fall break

Like all weeks off, I have high expectations for what I will accomplish. I will paint everyday, write a novel, get ahead with my school work, clean out my room, deep clean my apartment, see everyone that I haven't connected with in a while, write letters, finish incomplete projects, take naps, post photos, spend time in silence, listening to God. The gist is that I would do things that I wouldn't normally do. This week did take on that shape, but in a way different than I could have expected. I did spend time with my family and we dined at fine establishments and biked over the Golden Gate Bridge. I saw my pregnant cousin for the first time since she told us she was pregnant. I got a new makeup look with my mom, fixed my bike, found my lost keys.
For some reason, it's Friday and I'm the slightest bit disappointed that I didn't finish all that I had set out to do. I watched more TV than read books, got less sleep than I planned, and still fill disorganized come Monday.
I think that's how life works: when we set these expectations that are impossible to meet, we will never satisfy all of the requirements for us. I set a reminder each day for noon that said "God is showing himself to me by..." Each day, there was something incredible happening at noon- whether it was an engaging YUTES conversation, a view of the San Francisco bay, looking at powerful art, or getting my makeup done sitting next to my mom. That's what I will take away from this week, that everyday God chose to reveal his love to me in a unique way.

The Decemberists wrote a song about me

They didn't really, but I would like to think that they did. It's the first time that I've liked my real name, Margaret, hearing it in their Hazards of Love performance yesterday. Sometimes when I'm at festivals with huge groups of people, staring up at the stars, sober as can be, I feel God most. Amidst all the craziness, he's there and he's maniacally dancing along with me. Even as I shove my way through the crowd, hand out Clementines, and laugh with my friend Matt, He's there.
For a long time, I've been having a hard time feeling like He is around. When I'm overwhelmed by kids crying and unable to write their name on a piece of paper, I don't know where He is in that. I don't know where He is in helping me to get all of my homework done. Or trying to get to counseling at twenty to six, only to realize that the MUNI downtown has been flooded and there's not a cab to be flagged down in sight.
But He's there, just not in the way that I think He is. He's there by surprising me with Papalote burritos at community group, when I was resisting going. Or when one of my fifth graders tells me that she is going to be Michael Jackson for Halloween and I can't keep it together by not laughing. He's there when I get told I'm pretty by a six-year-old because my eyes are like saucers.
He's in the community, the sermon about complaining, spending time with new and old friends at a music festival. The new Sufjan-sponsored Shannon Stephens album. Me planning my "Where the Wild Things Are" lesson tomorrow. In San Francisco, on 7th and Harrison. At French-American, on Oak and Franklin.
He's with me, as near as my next breath.

I learned a lot last week.

They say that teachers are the best students. In that case, I'm doing pretty well for myself.
I not only single handedly led a class of squirming first graders who told the teacher they learned "Nothing" when I was teaching, but I learned how I'm feeling will erupt all over the place unless I take care of it sooner.
I also learned that these hard times are refining me and bringing me closer to God. I'm writing a good story for myself, according to Donald Miller.

It's interesting that in the Bible, in the book of Ecclesiastes, the only practical advice given about living a meaningful life is to find a job you like, enjoy your marriage, and obey God. It's as though God is saying, WRITE A GOOD STORY, TAKE SOMEBODY WITH YOU, AND LET ME HELP.

Before I learned about story, I was becoming a fatalist. I was starting to believe you couldn't find meaning in life because there wasn't any meaning to be found. But I don't believe that anymore...

I don't ever want to go back to believing life is meaningless. I know there are biochemical causes for some forms of depression, but I wish people who struggle against dark thoughts would risk their hopes on living a good story- by that I mean finding a team of people doing hard work for a noble cause, and joinng them. I think they'd be surprised at how soon their sad thoughts would dissipate, if for no other reason than they didn't have time to think them anymore. There would be too much work to do, too many scenes to write.

Although I've dealt with giving up, recently. I've become disillusioned with my part in the story and I don't know where I fit in. I don't know what my small piece can do to affect change. But it's a small jigsaw piece that the greater whole can't be complete without.

I think that this is when most people give up on their stories. They come out of college wanting to change the world, wanting to get married, wanting to have kids and change the way people buy office supplies. But they get into the middle and discover it was harder than they thought. They can't see the distant shore anymore, and they wonder if their paddling is moving them forward. None of the trees behind them are getting smaller and none of the trees ahead are getting bigger. They take it out on their spouses, and they go looking for an easier story.*

*Taken from A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Donald Miller (in italics) with my own insights interspersed.

I'm feeling...

Clarity for the first time in a few weeks. I'm finally going to try and process feelings when I feel them instead of letting them pile up over time, culminating in a breakdown after Bluegrass on my friend Pryor's couch.
Guilty after setting the boundary to not go to my public school today, I saw one of my fifth graders on the street on my way home in the Mission.
Sweaty from riding my bike home, I did even the Fell part of the Wiggle at night.
Nervous to have my supervisor come tomorrow and observe me in the classroom and then talk with me about it.
Hopeful about people learning who I really am.
Excited to learn more about myself and how I cope best with the stress that I'm facing daily.
Unsure of how the kids will be tomorrow; if they will stage a coup as my friend Joe says.
Validated in how I feel at school, after one of the teachers wrote me an email and told me when she's free in case I need a listening ear. That's never happened to me at FAIS before.
Sad that my friend Pryor is on her way back to Tennessee now.
Overwhelmed by injustices in the world.
Scared about future relationships, how I will inevitably mess them up.
Confident that I am who I am today, growing in grace, dealing with my feelings and emotions.

Finished?

I just finished my first paper of my life post college. Well finished... I'll never actually be done. That's part of the problem with me being unable to finish a painting or leave the classroom: there's always something more that can be done. I remember nights spent in college when I couldn't leave the computer lab until the wee hours of the morning, until I read over the paper one more time. I couldn't just say, "I'm done with it, I'm finished, it's now out of my hands." I'd rather spend the time until I got my grade back worrying and anxiously formulating what I had mistakenly analyzed.
I'm attempting to let go of this, to heal myself from certain expectations I placed upon myself while an undergraduate. Some of these ideas weren't healthy for me or my mind. As I start on this new adventure, I'm excited to see what learnings I can undo and renew.

Things I don't want to forget

as my mind overflows with information like students' names, how I can get from point A to point B on my bike, there are certain things that I want to remember about this time in my life...

Like I contemplate life on the way home from Oakland on Tuesday nights driving back over the Bay Bridge and seeing the city all lit up.

Like the entire K-5 population of my public school in SOMA where I'm student teaching shouted "Going to college!" after being asked "What are you going to do when you grow up?" or the one girl in my fifth grade class whipping around her hair extension (I made her throw it in the trash).

Like I locked myself out of the house today, after not being able to find my keys this morning (they were in the basket by the door where I left them).

Like I combined two works punctuation and sanctuary to make the word PUNCTUARY. One of my classmates told me that was such a Meg moment, it was.

Merried

Yesterday was the first time that I knew a bride and groom, their families, the pastor, and most of the bridesmaids, groomsmen. It made it all the more powerful to see such a momentous occasion take place having seen the process firsthand and God's provision in both the bride and groom's life.

I got choked up hearing Karl Digerness play "Fairest Lord Jesus," reminding me of San Francisco's own Sufjan Stevens. I got to have two lovely dates, Dan and Skylar, looking out for me, as well as great friends and roommates to share the event with. Pryor and I were the two remaining people on the dance floor.

Living in San Francisco can be like living in a dream sometimes; it doesn't seem real. What I have here I haven't experienced anywhere else. Yesterday was proof: two good friends joining together to serve each other. Never before had I heard that analogy used at a wedding, but it was the most selfless love I've seen.

As hopeless as I feel about dating here, I am excited to see what God is doing here and now in our community. Nathan plus Julie is evidence of that.

Saved

I wish I could believe that God loves me unconditionally the way that my six-year-olds do after loving me a week. The way that they love you no matter what clothes you threw on that day or even if you brushed your hair. They think that everything you do is great and they get excited when they find out that they live nearby you. You almost don't think that it's genuine because they are so effusive, even my second graders from last year. I want to believe that God rejoices in me the same way that they do, but most of the time I can't imagine why he would. Or how He could do that for everyone, but love me uniquely because I am who I am. For Meg Garner, not putting me into the "vacillator" box, as Maggie said.
Watching the movie Saved, I realized that there are some things about Christianity that make me despise that part of me. How we can manipulate God to do certain things and how we can use Him to explain away our own issues. The ultimate message is one of grace, which I can take away- grace within their relationships with each other and from God. Mary doesn't understand how God could somehow tell her to have sex with Dean and then get pregnant. I don't understand how God really has the best for me, ie I don't want to trust Him most of the time. I worry that my plans will never happen. I can just barely make out how God has provided for me in the past-sometimes I can see it, feel it, I did in Africa. Other times, I feel distant- I don't know where God is in me going back to school, where He is in all of that. I'm feeling silly that I will work hard for two years and only have a teaching credential, not a master's degree. At the same time, I'm realizing what an honor being a teacher is and how I'm not ready for it yet.
I want to understand that people are telling me things for a reason, that I don't have to get it right then or take immediate action, that I can let their thoughts sink in and process through them later. I don't want to deflect positive comments or constructive criticism.
Ultimately, I want my identity to be in the fact that I'm saved, not that I'm a teacher, student, good friend, loved by people.

Debriefing

I had forgotten about how I felt in Africa, how I knew that I had to depend on God, until seeing Maggie's Sudan presentation today. A wave of emotion swept over me, tears ran down my cheeks as I saw the cherubic faces of Sudanese children, orphans.
I let last week, with its mounting assignments, classroom aspirations, and larger-than-life expectation, overwhelm me. I couldn't connect with people because I was frustrated with myself. I couldn't go to sleep because I was anxious. I couldn't be alone because I didn't know how to dig myself out of the hole I had started to dig myself into. I found ways to be sorry for myself, things beyond my control, even if they didn't exist. Everything became an enabler for self-pity.
I needed my friend to confront me today about how I was making her feel, to take charge of my assignments and get my readings done. Everyday, I'm learning more and more how to surrender what I think my life should be, what the world wants me to live for. It's better with God- He took me to Africa, He's brought me back to painting, He's provided me with a wonderful community. He's even using me to reach the middle schoolers of the city. I don't need to sit around, wallowing in self-pity and self-loathing, for not getting my teaching credential sooner or liking boys who I think like me back.
It's been almost two months since Africa, here I am still wondering, "What's next?" Africa came back to me this week in the form of a call from Hope4Kids, an encouragement about my art, and a facebook message from a dear friend. I have to surrender, let go, trust God with what He has for me tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after that.

GLEEful

I want to be glee-ful, not just because I watched the TV show right now. But because I have the opportunity to further my education, help other people with my gifts, and share my life with other people. I have a huge easel in my room now, with a painting on it, that reminds me of what I'm working towards. My creativity has dramatically increased, although sometimes at the expense of procrastinating now that I'm back in school.
In this season of engagements, weddings, babies, and whirlwind romances, I want to be happy for my friends. I also want more than anything to be content with myself. I was alone more than I had been in a while over Labor Day weekend (even in my apartment). I did okay with the silence and the lag times. I even relished in it yesterday on a walk through the fog of the city at twilight.
Today, anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks. Maybe it was the Blue Bottle coffee I had at lunch, my nagging urge to check my email throughout the day, or my insecurities about school resurfacing. I found myself alone after school, unsure of what to do next. I didn't have class to go to, I could rest and be content. I couldn't, I kept feeling like there was something I should be doing. I should finish my painting, work on this project, finish my reading, call this friend.
I've figured out that I look to the distractions to keep me from thinking about myself, when sometimes that's the very thing that I should be doing. I can more easily engage with other people, which will consume my head space. Rather, I prefer that than getting stuck in my own cement mixture of uncertain thoughts and relentless self-sabotage.
I don't need the external affirmation as much now, I can spend hours pouring over my books excited about what I'm learning, I can watch glee before bed and feel hopeful about the day to come (even though my school would never let us perform Push It in a school assembly).

I'll follow you into the dark

Rachael is blaring this song which always makes me nostalgic for college, France, early days in SF. I had a realization tonight that I don't know how to accept praise or affirmation, as much as I love it. I'm trying to believe the idea that I'm worthy of compliments, that other people love me. So far, I've come to terms with God's love for me and subsisting on that. It seems like every time I assume that other people are going to affirm me, I'm disappointed. I would rather not count on it than be heartbroken, craving something I'm never going to receive.
Dan, a close friend and YUTES leader, made me think about the way that I view myself. If I can't even believe what he tells me to be true, that I'm amazing, not necessarily worthy of being loved (because none of us are). I don't have to seek boys out, they will be lucky one day to come to me because of how great I am. In the society in which we live, in the times of failing in my attempts to have a relationship, in my life of running around from one thing to the next, I find having a relationship impossible. I don't even have enough time to check my email these days, let alone respond.
I tried to give up, surrender today, as I was sorting markers into organizers. I was frustrated with not feeling valued by the new teacher whose taken on Deirdre's maternity leave. Everything I did today she re-did in her own way. I spent too much of the school's money yesterday on supplies for the room. I missed the meeting for the first grade teachers because no one told me what time it was at. I struggled being neutral, not complaining, not being dramatic about my situation at school. I have a job, I like my classes which will enhance my work life. I am inspired by my classmates, who can understand where I'm coming from. I want to get to know them, to share our exhaustion and frustrations together.
This new schedule of class and school has me feeling overwhelmed, but it's given me less time to dwell on self-pity and negativity. I don't consider myself a writer, since I told the beatniks tonight at the Divisadero Art Walk that I didn't think I could write the first line of a story for others to continue. It helps me process things, once again feel the twinges of the feelings I had while writing that post. Live in the now, even if I am headed to the darkness.

Dimanche

Sundays can be hard days for me. The rest of the week looms ahead, I ponder my to-do list, clean my room, and now, being a student, attempt to get part of my reading done. I like to spend time in the park if the sun is shining, but usually it's not. Talk to my family and friends on the phone, go to a leisurely brunch after church.
My morning is jam-packed with church and middle school youth group. So, when 2:30 hits, I'm down for the count. I usually need a nap or caffeine to make it through the rest of the day, or what productivity is left of it.
I want the day to be restful, Sabbath-like, but I'm the kind of person who is challenged when I have little to do. I'll fill my Saturdays full and then crash on Sundays. I want to take a nap right now, but I feel overwhelmed by all that's going on in my head...like I was going to be artistic and paint right now, I should clean the kitchen and be a responsible roommate, I should clear off my desk and get organized.
As I was having trouble falling asleep last night, one of the notecards I posted to my door caught my eye:

Artists can be SOBER, SANE, SOLVENT, RESPONSIBLE, USER-FRIENDLY, FAITHFUL, SAVED, HAPPY, DISCOVERED, (and most importantly) RECOVERED*

For some reason, I want to go above and beyond to prove these things to other people. I will let them cross boundaries, feign a good mood, and act as a loyal friend. I'm to the point where feelings can distinguish themselves from logic: I know that I am the way that I am, I'm beginning to be okay with that, I should accept things about myself that I cannot change. I usually think that I'm more of a mess that maybe I am, that I need to cover that up, that people won't like me if I'm vulnerable or honest, telling them as I feel.
Maybe it has to do with sensitivity. I'm easily offended: people can't tell me how they feel, therefore I feel like I can't reciprocate. Here's to starting out this new season of my life implementing things that I've learned about myself in the past two years (since today is my two year anniversary of moving to San Francisco)! I've struggled to establish myself here and somehow I've done it. As my parents said, "Meg, if you've done this, you've made it here!, you can do anything." It's up for me to believe and now live that out.



*Taken from The Artist's Way, by Julie Cameron

SSR, Sustained Silent Reading

I went back to school for my teaching credential; now I have homework.
I went to French-American today; soon I will start work again.
If I'm going to work and go to school, my Tuesdays and Thursdays are going to be marathons and I won't get home until 8:30 PM, not having eaten dinner.
My phone stopped working, so I had to get a new one.
The first graders are now second graders, so I will have all new kids.
Miss Sabow went on maternity leave, so now I will be working with a new teacher from Australia.
I don't know how well she responded to the corner of the class called Australia, where kids that are having a "Terrible, no good, very bad day" go. Dante would have had a hard time last year if it weren't for Australia first thing in the morning.
They are renovating the upstairs apartment and it's hard to sleep in, nap, or concentrate whatsoever during the day... why I'm on my way to Mojo to complete my reading, my first homework assignment post-college. It should be a reward, all of this reading, like it was in elementary school.

Jeux d'enfants

Last week, I realized that I don't want to be a full-time nanny. Nor am I ready to become a parent and dress, feed, occupy children all day/everyday. It's different being with them as their friend after being their teacher; they like to think that the boundaries don't exist any more.

I also remembered how much I liked pearler-beading, painting-by-number, pet stuffed animals, and spontaneous dance routines. How I liked going to the movie theater on a summer afternoon to see the latest Disney classic (Ponyo didn't compare to the Little Mermaid in my opinion!)

I'm not exhausted from babysitting the way that I am from teaching. Maybe it's because I'm on my feet less, maybe because I have more freedom. It's about building relationships while teaching; babysitting seems like more of an exchange of goods, a temp-to-hire basis.

All this to say, I'm looking forward to the new school year. The scent of freshly sharpened pencils in the foggy San Francisco air. Starting a program where yes, I will one day become a teacher. Why? Is this really what I want to do for the rest of my life? I'm not sure why, but I know for right now, I've made the right decision.

Negative to neutral

It's all about relinquishing control. Filling out the federal loan papers and starting classes next Tuesday. Letting kids be kids because they should be able to, not because you want them to be a certain way. Realizing that conflict can bring growth, new relationships can give hope, and that my life isn't full of as many stresses as I make it out to have. As Lunden put it, "Meg, why do you need to go to yoga? You are Meg, what can you possibly be stressed out about?"
That's so true, all of my basic needs are met, but I find ways everyday to find unmet expectations and disappointment in even the most positive of circumstance. How do you accept when people tell you that you blessed them through encouragement? Or that not everyone is getting along and it doesn't have to do with me? Seeing the movie "Extract," although humorous, almost makes me shudder to see what we can do when one thing can spin out of control in our lives and impact everyone around us.
I'm all about the negative, I want to be all about the neutral, en route to the positive.

Vacillating

I vacillate, meaning I love extremes. I like to relax and sleep 12 hours a night and stay in my apartment on a cold, San Francisco foggy day, or I like to nanny for 9 hours, probe my heart further, plan dinner for 12, and arrive home 15 hours later.
I don't know where the gray is in this picture: how I can compromise and have a life of intensity and one of taking time for myself while still serving others. My head is pounding from the moments of today: fleeting gems of community, searching for a kite that catapulted down a mountain, playing red light/green light in French, talking to my friend Matt on the phone who I hadn't talked to in 2 months. Having my friends tell me that they are blessed from me, the Africans that they miss my happiness.
I don't want the inner reserves to run dry, for me to search for where the happiness went after I've given it all away. I don't want to try and make people like me that aren't good for me. I want to firmly set boundaries, but still allow myself grace to fail and make mistakes. Life isn't a series of "shoulds," rather a series of choosing how I will feel when things happen. I can be sad, I can be mad, I can be upset. Showing my emotion is letting people know how I feel, which is something I don't like to let on. Maybe it comes from the Washington and Lee speaking tradition that became engrained in my head after four years spent pretending that everything was going just fine!, when passing a fellow student on the colonnade.
It's the reason that sometimes I laugh when I should be sad, when the tears come unpredictably and at the most inconvenient of times.

Another year here

I've been thinking that I've been here, in San Francisco, for almost 2 years. That today, when Maggie woke up on her birthday, that it was the second time we had celebrated together with her in our apartment. I feel like my life keeps racing by around me and I'm trying to catch up, keep up. I'm going back to school in two weeks and I'm paring things down, simplifying, delegating.
I don't want to lose track of what's going on around me, but I also want to be confident in my decision to be focused and appreciate further education. I don't want to lose the ideas that I learned while in Africa, I want to be able to keep painting, searching, creating.
I want to appreciate where I've come from and where I've been. I look at pictures from the past two years and I see young, naive people, full of life and energy. I'm older and wiser, more mature, a quarter-century old. I take care of kids. I go to Uganda. I knit. I read. I like dollar stores. I collect things I think I might use later. I have an incredible community that keeps me sane and accountable. I'm an extroverted and sensory person.
These are things I can't change, they are unique to me. I found in a book that my mom gave me last night a Dove candy wrapper that said, "Remind yourself that it's okay not to be perfect." Coincidence? I don't think so.

Lolla

I'm glad that I went to Lollapalooza. It's something that I checked off my list and can say that I did. And I saw some amazing performers- Bon Iver, Fleet Foxes, Santigold (who I like to call Goldi-santa) and witnessed where this American Life used to take place at Public Radio International. I got to eat a homemade marshmallow at a hip restaurant, I felt connected to friends from college, and I saw the new modern wing and a Cy Twombly exhibit at the Institute of Art.
I also realized that I love San Francisco and my community here. Not that I didn't before, just being in another city creates distance and makes me realize what I have.
I have relationships, I've started painting, I've cleaned out my room. This summer, I might not have accomplished everything that I wanted to, but I came pretty close. Thanks to my voyage across the globe, I have a new perspective on life. I've seen my family, went to another music festival. I don't know if I'm ready to start school in two weeks, ready for the rigors of academia and the challenges of the classroom. I ate amazing heirloom tomatoes, saw the sun for a few days, shared my experiences and listened to those of my friends'.
I've held a mirror up to my face and seen my mperfections. I am more confident now than I was in June, thanks to God's grace. I still get anxious, I still am extraverted, I still exude energy. Somehow, God has worked through me.

Gem is BAAACK!!!

I'm starting to feel like myself again. I had a moment yesterday when I didn't want to wake up from my afternoon nap and wanted to instead, lay in bed and fret about talking Africa with my friends. I was scared of being vulnerable, of technical problems, of not knowing what to say or how to say it. I overcame all of those hurdles, somehow, though I did say a few things like "Pygmies breed Pygmies" and "That woman was really important to me, but I don't remember her name."
I got a card in the mail today with one of my team members to remind me of what had happened. And I got to talk to Laura today about my experiences there. More and more, I feel like God is saying, "Meg, I've still got you in San Francisco for a reason." Pryor thinks it is so I can become a teacher, Rachael thinks so I can continue to build relationships with families at my school, Claudia so I can continue to invest in community.
I'm still all over the place, that hasn't changed, but I'm starting to find my spirit again, minus the anxiety.

It's 4:40 AM

And I've been awake for the past 2 hours, thinking about Africa. And watching a movie while thinking about Africa. I was hopeful that Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt could help distract me from my feelings of jetlag and excess.
I thought I was doing so well yesterday: I went to the grocery store, saw friends, rode the bus, got the mail that I had somehow forgotten to give my roommates the key to collect over the past 2 weeks. But amidst all of it was a sadness and nudging towards change. Things didn't affect me the way that they used to. When I was tired, I went home. When a friend asked me to go to yoga, I said no. When Claudia brought up boys, I wouldn't let myself be self-deprecating. I was happy for my friends in beginning relationships, new living situations, upcoming weddings. I set boundaries and stuck to them. I didn't worry about being the people-pleaser that I normally am. I was okay being the ever-crazy, loyal, hilarious while not trying to be, Meg Garner. The one who explained to Claudia's new roommates why we balance each other out so well. The one trying to communicate with her family about how much Africa meant to her and how much she wants them to experience it with her in the near future.
The house is quiet, the light shines through Lisa's room and our common area, flooding the hallway. No one, not even our upstairs neighbors, are awake. Everyone is at peace, but I'm the only one awake, processing. But I'm okay with that, I just got home from Africa.

The last 48 hours have been a blur...

Saying things that don't make sense.
Using a phone again. And hearing it ring?
Leaving a bag on the plane and then realizing I left it, since I was so tired and disoriented, but then getting it back.
Having weird malaria-dreams en route, like I was chewing the blanket from the plane?
Feeling like I was in France again, after having a Paul sandwich at the airport in Amsterdam. Memories from too many train station weekend getaways.
Did I really go to Uganda? My life here seems too normal, like I picked up right where I left off.
But I'm different, I trust God more, I don't want to be frustrated, angry, confused when I'm disobedient to Him.
And I'm a million times more grateful and feel undeserving for what I do have. I have all of these ideas swimming in my head about how I can give what I have here and transfer it there somehow. Even take all of the things from the street, store them in my room, and ship them over. Maybe not the most practical though.
I am captivated by the joy of the people there and their dependence on God. I need to figure out a way to capture it back in my life here.

Today was special...

For a multitude of reasons. I can't even begin to list them all.
1) It was hot and sunny, something I don't experience in San Francisco very often.
2) I met the child, Tracy, whose boarding education I will be sponsoring. She wore a pink dress and we colored, painted, and blew bubbles all afternoon.
3) I didn't feel any anxiety over anything: where we were going, what I'll be doing when I get home, what I'm doing 20 minutes from now. I was able to just be present in the moment.
4) I got to community paint with African schoolchildren as my audience and many of my teammembers as support staff. We created an outer space themed mural on the one wall, thanks to my work at El Dorado!
5) I got to support the widows in the community by bringing souvenirs to my friends back home.
6) I had pizza for dinner, even though it wasn't comparable to Little Star.
7) I thought about the impact that my trip will have on the people at home, in California, Pennsylvania, and between.
8) I got to hear my roommate Natalie's PhD research on the social/emotional responses of the orphans here.
9) I sat on the grass after a long day and discussed community with a fellow California pastor.
10) I gave school supplies to the teachers at the primary school, and in return, got to teach their class for a few minutes time.
11) I was persuaded by the people to stay here or come back, which means they must like me...
12) I felt that God gave me some clarity about why I'm here
13) I understood what it meant for me to go back to my life anxiety-free, talking with women in their fifties about their experiences here, and how they have been changed.
14) I can trust God because the Ugandans have bolstered me with their faith and trust in God. All I heard today when I handed out supplies was, "God is so good...Amen" If only we would think the same thing when we went to the grocery store and got our necessities.
15) I got to give Laura's sponsored child her gift and I felt like my experience in San Francisco had come full circle to Africa. God has ordained all of the things in my life, I'm just along for the ride...

Art therapy

It's been a while since I was able to process through how I'm feeling via art. I have been knitting all trip, almost done my hand-warmers!, and today was the first day that I was able to pick up a brush and gentrify the school at our original site of the TrueVine compound.
It's hard to say all of the different emotions that came up while I was painting with an audience of sometimes 20, sometimes 100 kids. I was confident that this was the reason that God had me here today. And to care for the little child laying on the floor, just rubbing his back and holding him while he ate, earlier today at the refugee/orphan site. And to meet the child that I will sponsor indefinitely while she was chewing saran wrap in her mouth, that she found on the ground, because she had no other toys to play with.
It's a hard thing to wrap your head around, this different way of life and circumstance. Finally, on day 9, I'm starting to acclimate to the circumstances. I will always be dirty, grimey, and full of germs, but that won't stop me from forming relationships with kids.
My hands are still full of paint and the Africans think I'm crazy for not trying to wash it off. I guess that I like to think that it makes me unique, this being dirty, and getting into the Africa-ness of being here. I'm thankful that I had teammembers that supported me today in my ambition to make the school atmosphere an environment better-suited towards learning than the stark classrooms I had seen a few days earlier. If I can bring a little color to the TrueVine primary school, then I know that God has me here for a reason.
As a human, it's so hard to trust that God has what's best for us. The last few days I've done nothing but struggle with myself and my issues, thinking, "God, why am I here? I'm frustrated by what I've accomplished." It helped to have friends tell me that it might not be tangible, what I accomplish here. Rather, it's about building relationships with people in this community and somehow demonstrating to them that we care about them, even in the United States. That shows God's love for them, that we've traveled such a distance to even the most remote villages, even if just to experience a preschool graduation ceremony or witness a well dedication.
We won't always be able to understand why we're doing what we're doing at the moment, but the least we can do is be present with the people that we are with. God's shown me today that being present doesn't always mean that it will be what I've expected it to be or what I think it should be. He's shown me that he will always challenge and exceed my expectations, just like the Ugandans who think that God blessed them today because I came with my teammembers to paint on the walls of their school.

Beautiful and broken

I've gotten to the point where I've experienced so much that I don't know where to begin. I've never washed a person's feet before, yet yesterday there I was, in the middle of Africa, washing several old widows' feet. I've never seen such joy and such poverty exist in the same place. And I've never been able to amuse kids so easily, by blowing bubbles or mimicking all of their motions.
Emotionally, it's all hard to process through. Seeing a community suffer from disease and babies die because of the lack of clean water, and then see that revolutionized through the $10,150 well purchase that changes the course of the childrens' futures.
I came thinking that I had something to share here, that I could impart some wisdom. Day in and day out, God keeps teaching me that I have nothing to share but my spirit. I won't be able to communicate with the elderly lady whose feet I pedicure, but I will be able to dance with her when they start dancing their tribal rhythms. I will go to schools, see children well behaved, orderly in line, eager to listen, and not know what to say.
There's so much beauty in all of this brokenness. City Church always says the same thing about San Francisco, and I'm finally able to somewhat relinquish the responsibility for me to fix it.

Photos of kids in Africa

My friends Rachael, Pryor, Laura, Claudia, Matt, Kevin, and soon Maggie have all experienced Africa in some profound way. I was always excited to hear about what had been stirred in their heart by their experiences, but it was hard for me to relate.
I thought today, while sketching outside, that I didn't understand Pryor's wanting me to paint a picture for of kids in Africa for her dad until I saw the kids here myself. I couldn't complete a project that I knew wouldn't elicit emotion in her the way that the orphanages in Kenya did. Now I know why Claudia thought about marrying a Ghanaian, Pryor wanted a tangible piece of evidence to give her dad from their Kenyan trip, Rachael held countless fundraisers for her friend Jaclyn's village in Northern Uganda. I hope that she'll still let me paint that picture for her for Christmas this year.

Uganda is broken

I knew that this would be hard, I knew that there would be things that I would see that would be hard to digest. I just didn't plan on being moved to tears, feeling like I was standing in front of a commercial advertising child sponsorship in Africa. When you are here, when you can see it, feel it, smell it, touch it, hear it, it feels all too real.
Visiting a general hospital in Africa is like visiting the place that people associate with dying. I was prepared that the hospital would bring out strong emotion in me, particularly the children's ward. But I didn't think that there would be this overwhelming sense of hopelessness and depression that I would feel leaving. I didn't know how to react emotionally when faced with several mothers who had just lost their fourth and fifth successive children in failed pregnancies. I didn't know how to react when there were children with such deformations from malnutrition that you couldn't even guess their age or stage in development. When one of the children vomited on my feet, I could only stare in hopelessness as the father struggled to clean it up and it remained on the floor. I could only empathize with their situation: I don't know how to make any of their situations any better without money, education, and government infrastructure.
Only one staff member was sighted during our visit there. It was one of those moments where I wished that I was an evangelical, who could reach out and share the gospel with others, cast demons out and pray for them as they accept Jesus. But, I'm not: I'm the smiling face who walks around taking pictures of the patients for them to see because many have never even had their picture taken before, nor do they know what they look like.
All of this incoming information has me on overload, trying to figure out what I can do, if anything. All I've come up with so far today is creating art based on the things that I've seen in Africa and having a gallery show to continue to support projects here. I don't want my involvement to be in-and-out, she's done. Just like San Francisco and the world today, Uganda is broken. And we need hands to fix it.

The land of extreme contrast

I just finished pastel-ing outside to try and process through some of the things that have happened so far today, before we leave for the children's hospital. So much transpires in a day and I want to keep it all in my immediate memory.

Besides teaching Jesus Loves Me in front of a Sunday school group of about 120 kids in a classroom and not really remembering the hand motions, I felt comfortable at church this morning. I couldn't help but think about the way that the pastor and the rest of the congregation continually welcomed us, telling everyone how far we had traveled and that we "visitors" come from a place with air-conditioned houses and air-conditioned cars. It's also the place where I am recognized by an African woman as someone who appeared on reality TV. The schoolteacher from California, as I was introduced to the congregation, apparently bears a strong resemblance to a contestant on one of the last season's Bachelor shows.

I also was greeted by kids with sticky hands and puffy tummies. They did everything they could to cling to me and make me feel at home. I have a hard time saying no to them, when they ask me for everything from shoes to food to my email address, just like I have a hard time setting boundaries at home.

Africa, the land of contrasts.

The joy of the people despite their dire circumstances. Their faith in God despite everything that they have endured. My full heart ready to give, yet burdened because most of the time I'm not sure how. I know that I can fund a preschooler's boarding school education, after hearing the story that she came home one day and was locked out of her home and had no where to go. The cement factory, polluting the air, now next to a land that is a testament to God's cleansing love for Africa.

Schoolteacher Margaret, who yesterday adopted me as her third child among the eight that she already has, tucking in my bra strap and shooing away the children from me.

Entering the gate of our hotel, where the back is full of trash, and the front a manicured and landscaped lawn.

I need Africa, more than Africa needs me

Patience pays; you can never get back time; late to school, late in life; always respect your teachers... These were some of the phrases decorating a building at the school at the TrueVine compound in Tororo, Uganda, that we visited today. I was in awe the entire time that we saw this five and a half year old community, previously a bandit's field next to the Tororo Cement factory. Each brick that was laid for the grounds of the complex had Jesus' light shining through, a blessing.
From the moment that we arrived at the community, I had children attached to my arms. One toddler, pretending to drive an abandoned truck, burst into tears when he saw me. I tried not to take it personally, this mixed reaction to a group of 25 of us entering their space. But, they are so grateful for everything that Hope4Kids has done for the community: purchasing the 35 acres of land, starting with a church, then clinic and school, now houses for the workers and boarding students, a well, x-ray machine, computer lab. Plans continue to evolve, but the goal is for the community to be self-sustaining and life-giving.
I felt helpless the first few days here, driving along the roads, experiencing intense emotion as I watched the kids dressed smartly in their uniforms walking to school and felt vulnerable when the people at rest stops would storm our van with offers of chicken on a stick and water. Now, I feel like I can do something, I can give to these people in the community here for the next 8 days. I can encourage Margaret, a fifth grade school teacher with 8 kids of her own and 80 in her class each day. I can share my teaching with the students at the different primary schools. I can teach women in the village how to knit. I can sponsor a child and secure their educational path. I think that the quote that most rings true with me is "I need Africa more than Africa needs me."

Casting my anxiety

I leave in 36 hours. I had a dream Friday night about how I missed my flight because I got on one a day early, the plane had to keep taking off and landing, and I was going to end up in Detroit with no where to go for a day until my plane to Amsterdam. I was thinking about calling my aunt and uncle who live nearby, but they were busy with a band gig.
I'm alone in my apartment and at first, the silence was welcoming. Now, it's overwhelming and anxiety-provoking. I'm not sure if I should try and cram more things into my suitcase or read over the list again at things I should bring. I'm probably going to forget something, I know that much, I'm not the world's best traveler. My dad calls me a gypsy, but I think he's still reeling from the time that I threw down my suitcase at him from the top of the escalator while on a family vacation in Texas.
I don't know what to expect. I told my friend Pryor yesterday that all I hope for is to have someone that I can connect with on the trip and some sort of action that God can use me while I'm there. I don't know what the day-to-day will look like or how I will feel. All of this alone time beforehand has been good for challenging my mind and trying to establish inner-peace, something I struggle with daily.
I like to be around people because they give me some kind of jumping off point. Like I'm not as terrible as I somehow make myself out to be in my head. And interacting with others gives me inspiration to do the things that I want to do by myself. Teaching a friend to knit makes me want to knit more. Sharing time with families makes me want one of my own someday. Going to a museum with friends strengthens my creativity. I don't know if I'm capable of action by myself.

Crazy for Africa

All of a sudden, it hit me that I'm leaving for Africa in less than a week. Staring at my friend Christi, blinking back the sun out on the patio at Mojo, it hit me when she asked if I was nervous. Or when my mom told me yesterday that she needs to hear my voice at least once a day before I go because what I'm doing "is a big deal." Or when I've been driving friends to and from the airport, thinking the next time, it will be me coming from the international terminal. Even though I've been preparing for 2 months and I'm set and ready to go, I don't know anyone I'm traveling with and have no idea what to expect. I realized today that I don't know what my life will look like in a week. I'll be in Uganda, but what will I be doing? who will I be with? will I have friends? what will I eat? will I feel completely overwhelmed? how will I explain to other people when I get back about what I've experienced?
I might feel like I did when I lived in France the first time, moved to San Francisco: an uneasy feeling in my gut from the moment I awoke. I'm not doing the easy thing. My friend Aldwin wrote in his thoughtful penmanship, "You're probably the only person I know who would be brave enough to do something like this, giving to do something like this." I know that might not be true, but I'm encouraged by it all the same.

Objectified

I love to accumulate. Papers and keepsakes, books and magazines. City church bulletins, letters from kids, art supplies. As my mom would like to say, I'm a pack-rat. My roommates would agree that I'm the one who, as Maggie pointed out, will one day have to move out of my room because I've just filled it to its capacity. I will be drowning in stuff. Sounds terrible, but I have the hardest time separating from objects of significance.
Maybe it's because I saw the film "Objectified" today and saw the creative design and thought process behind some of the most mundane things we own. Like a potato peeler or a vacuum cleaner. I guess I will never look at household objects the same way again. But, the last line of the movie, a journalist suggested that no matter how well something is designed, it doesn't mean it will be the first thing we grab when the hurricane comes. We will grab objects of significance, which are unique to each of us.
All of this to say, I've been on a cleaning rampage since summer began and several trash bags and one clothing exchange later, I've just about finished. It feels good to have a simpler life, a file organizer of important papers, a clean purse, a perfectly packed suitcase, an iPhone filled with important contact information. Maybe this is about what becoming an adult is like. Ever since I saw "Away We Go," I've been thinking about how you know when you've reached that phase. I guess you never do reach complete adult nirvana, but rather you come to terms with the fact that it's unattainable. You can question yourself, "Am I a f*&% up?" like John Krasinski and Mia Rudolph's characters do (and I find myself thinking 85% of the time), or you can accept the reality that it will never actually happen. Chapters of the book will close, internships will end, seasons of life will change, relationships will result in an engagement or a break-up.
I know I like to make a mess in the meantime, but I'm always up for the organizational debriefing along the way. But, just when you think you've got it all together, the hurricane might hit and none of the tiny imperfections will survive the deluge.

Nanny Diaries

Seeing families at work and play in the city is a paradox to me. I'm both encouraged, when I see an apartment filled with a parent's art work and a well-lit studio upstairs, and sad, when I see how hard parents have to work to compensate for providing the best for their child. Or when a new mom, now with baby, can't leave her apartment for a few weeks. Or when three kids, two of which erupt in tantrums at the dinner table, continue to instigate each other's traumas.
But then you see the cute moms with the strollers make it look so easy, when really it's not. The difficult three-year-old who literally pees on the floor, having an accident like she is a puppy. Taking kids to the grocery store and not being able to leave the store without the Starburst that the two-year-old stuck in her mouth and blue soda that the six-year-old swore his dad let him have.
But there are moments when I think my life can't get any better: when the kids are worn out from the day, when we're having a dance party to Kelly Clarkson, when we are eating ice cream in the middle of the afternoon, when we are in the sand at the park, when we are cuddling and reading a story together. A dad this week reminded me that I need to see the good in my life: like having the summer off and focusing on me. But at the same time, I know that it's so much more gratifying when the attention shifts to others. And it's hard for me to not think about how I want what they have one day, even in a city if God wills it to be that way.
I wonder if my mom felt the same way in her twenties, focused on her career and burgeoning life in the city. What all changed when she met my dad and then decided to have kids, five years later? Why did my mom have two kids and what did she do to get through the days of tantrums and accidents? I don't remember being difficult, but I know that I was just as guilty as my brother in provoking bickering.
Am I acting maternal right now so I can give to others' kids or is it all to benefit those of my own some day? I don't know the answer, and it's sometimes hard to be patient in the meantime trying to figure it all out, not knowing if "Meg, you will make a great mom someday."

What time is it?

Summertime, anticipation, no more waking up at 6 am...
I've listened to the HSM2 soundtrack song so many times over the last few days, that the words are all jumbled together in my head. Even my friend Sayde from home, who I saw this past weekend in SLO, knew the words and bopped along to the song while it was blaring in the car. She said it's because "Zac Efron's a cutie," but I'm not sure if that's really why she knows all the words.
I listened to it the first time with Maggie the other day, we shared headphones on an ipod so as not to wake our other roommates up. It was too hard to dance with the headphones in, so we had to turn the volume down low and turn the speakers on.
The second time I was with my last group of kids on Thursday morning. I played the soundtrack for them and they were so excited for this song and "Gotta Go My Own Way" (into second grade, go figure?) It was a bittersweet moment, these were kids that I've grown so attached to over the past year that I had a hard time letting go.
The third time I was with Claudia and Robin on the car trip down to SLO that same day. Our music selection was diminished significantly, but we came upon a CD entitled "Meg's Choice" from 6/08 that helped set the tone with Ingrid Michaelson, Death Cab, and HSM hits all on the same disc.
The fourth time I was with Matt and Katie on Friday night, I think? and Nick and Robin and Claudia at Nick's house to celebrate Matt's birthday. I'm sure that it came up in some context that evening, Matt singing it, I just can't remember all of the specifics.
Saturday, I was having a hard time rallying for the next outing, due to the lack of sleep from the night before. Sayde wanted to see the landmark Morro Rock, a gi-normous rock jutting into the ocean a few miles from San Luis Obispo. As soon as I got into the car with Sayde and Robin, with the windows down and the song blaring, I felt re-energized.
It's Sunday night now, and I'm thinking about what time it is? I don't have to wake up at 6 am...

Clear path

Summer is in the air. I can feel it, as I scramble trying to prepare for next year, next week, tomorrow. This is the first summer in San Francisco when I will have time to breathe, paint, play, prepare. I won't have to look for jobs or peruse the Wall Street Journal or find a new apartment on Craig's List. I won't have to be in an empty school in the middle of a foggy downtown block, trying to make the French words ooze from my mouth as artistically as I want them to. I will be able to spend time with kids, create, travel, serve, and enjoy life before I start school in the fall. Assuming that I figure out how I'm going to make it all work out before then.

Talking to my friend, roommate, and recent care-giver! Rachael today, I realized that I wish there was a clear, defined path. That God would just say to me, "Here, Meg, this is the reason why you are in San Francisco" or in your job, or with this person at this moment. I tend to overanalyze everything, trying to fit together the puzzle pieces myself so that I can unravel the enigma before He reveals it to me.

I had a moment during yoga today when I was trying to visualize a Buddha smile, or happiness. These moments are hard for me, because while happiness is tangible, I don't feel like I can make it so if it isn't really there. I have a hard time visualizing when I was happy, I would rather feel it in the moment and be so full of joy that I'm not trying to remember this particular moment when I am happy. But I've learned that I'm not happy because I live where I do, because I have the friends I do, because I have the opportunities I do. I've strived to attain happiness my whole life, but it will never come from having the next best thing, if...then.

So, do I want a clear path or do I expect one? Is it everyone else's expectations for me that keep getting entangled in my daily web of life? I think it's more of an expectation that I've placed upon myself that keeps me from experiencing the present. Like the good thing about today was not that I figured out my plans for September, but that I literally walked up to the bus stop as the bus was coming (which I would define as being the pinnacle of my happiness most days). Like the good thing about my job, I've gotten to connect with my school's community, fete-ing with parents and teachers in the most unlikely of places.

As I write this, an email from one of these unexpected connections comes, stating "belle de loin mais loin d'etre belle." Sums it all up, coincidentally in an email, "it's beauty from afar but far away to be beautiful." The clear path, it's so far away, that it is beautiful.

The Great Lake Swimmers

Well, I feel like I'm swimming across the Great Lake today. Not literally, figuratively of course. I've swum across the divide of expectation the past few days and come to the conclusion that God still loves me, and other people do to, just sometimes not in the way that I want them to.
He shows me with my roommates waking me up with Blue Bottle, flowers, and scones. Great Steps coffee for crossing the quarter-century divide. He shows me with Chloe's mom picking me up on the way to school, telling me that she mourned her 25th birthday by wearing all black, because things weren't going the way that she expected them to. He shows me with my friends donning their tackiest apparel to come and dance the night away. He shows me with knowing that my friends are planning something for me today, even though I don't know what. He shows me with having the morning to get a pedicure and start the day by taking my time and talking to my mom on the phone. He shows me by letting me have the opportunity to go to another country this summer, serving another population in some way. He shows me by my friends planning an art and coffee, "French day" in my honor, in which I can go to my favorite bakery and art store on them. He shows me by my roommates calling me their friend and sister. By my friends from Europe, my leaders from middle school youth group, the pastor of our church, remembering.
He shows me by the song, "Rocky Spine," which I've already listened to 10 times in the last 20 hours. By having my friend from preschool show up to my birthday party. By my friends on their way to Honduras leaving me a message on their way to the airport. I've gotten to the point where I know that I shouldn't be dependent on others' affirmation of me, but it still feels encouraging to have my cup overflowing with not only God's love today.

ZOO-eh

I got to meet Zooey Deschanel the other night at the film festival screening of her film, 500 Days. Well, I didn’t really get to shake her hand or get a picture taken with her (I would never be that kind of fan), but I did sit in the front row of the Kabuki theater with her 5 feet away. I could see the glistening diamond on her engagement ring to Death Cab lead singer, Ben Gibbard. I could tell that she was a normal human being, she fidgeted, she interrupted, she stumbled over her words. It was a powerful experience for me because there she was, watching the same movie I was on-screen the whole time. And then I got to process through relationships and the expectations that we place on them with Zooey and her co-star, Joey from Third-Rock (my friend Claudia's childhood look-alike), who now is cuter than can be. I got to see the drastic dichotomy between reality and expectations, how we think one thing, especially with relationships, and that thing more often than not does not come true.
My anxiety was subdued that day after seeing a movie where I felt okay with my human-ness, my disillusioned reality. I didn't have to go out dancing to prove myself, I didn't have to be crazy on a Saturday night to know that I was okay. As Zooey said herself, movies can either build you up or tear you down. This one built me up such that I was buoyant, it was refreshing to see the stark, contrasted reality of a relationship budding and crashing, over the course of 500 days.

Good Little Girl

"I too sat in the midst of many selves. The Pleaser, the Performer, the Perfectionist- my trinity of P's. I was learning how closely these old roles were connected to another powerful role that I played out: the Good Little Girl."

This Good Little Girl went to bachelorettes and seemed embarrassed, shocked, humiliated at the plethora of sex gifts given. She went to engagement parties and tried to act civilized, went to a club right after and tried to act uncivilized. She went to church the next day and tried not to rustle her bulletin, sitting next to her friend's dad. She hung out with kids the next day, trying to make them like her, taking risks, being spontaneous. She tried to believe that someone else could actually like her, even though she didn't know who "she" really was.

"She was that part of me that had little self-validation or autonomy, who tended to define life by others and their expectations, by collective values and projections. As a woman I sometimes felt that I had been scripted to be all things to all people. But when I tried, I usually ended up forfeiting my deepest identity, my own unique truth as God's creature."

God is estatic over me. He rejoices in who I am each day. He's maybe ordained this summer so that I can get over the fear of expressing myself artistically or put relationships in my life so that I can walk the path to the cross with Him, experiencing healing en route.

"My Good Little Girl endured everything sweetly, feared coloring outside of the traditional lines, and frequently cut herself out of her real thoughts and feelings. She was well adapted to thinking other people's thoughts and following the path of least resistance."

I want to be accomodating, for people to be happy with every decision that I'm making. I've gotten better at coloring outside of the traditional lines, but not at inserting my own feelings into situations. I don't know how to use myself as my foundation, letting my own thoughts and feelings guide the way, without getting so swayed by others.

"At times she seemed like an orchid in a hothouse: fragile, pleasing, someone who always ended up being pressed between the pages of someone else's scrapbook. Much of my life I'd found principal roles expressed mainly in the pages of someone else's life. I was someone's mother, someone's life, someone's Sunday school teacher, someone's teacher, someone's employee. Wonderful things. But down deep, at soul level, who was I?"

I'm good at being Miss Gardener, YUTES leader, roommate, daughter, friend, social planner, taking notes, an energetic presence. I don't know who I am beyond these expectations of the roles that I fill. Maybe that's why I get so excited when a six-year-old in the Ferry Building on a Sunday afternoon yells my name and I get so excited to see him when I'm with my friends. I don't know who I am apart from that.

"Now oddly, I could feel the intimations of an unknown woman locked away inside of me who wanted life and breath, who wanted to shed what wasn't real and vital and recover that which was. I felt the vibrations of a deeper, authentic self who wanted to live out her own unique vision of individuality and embrace her own mystery. Who was this self inside of me who cried out to be?"

I don't know my mystery yet, but I'm working on it...

"During the previous few weeks I had been reading the poetry of T.S. Eliot, who at times seemed like a soulmate to me. In his 'Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' I found my story, the quiet agony of someone who came upon an unsuspecting darkness buried in midlife and met the overwhelming question:
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?...
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room"

I read this poem my junior year in high school and remember it vividly. It struck me even then, even though poetry is usually mind-boggling. I recall the desert imagery and the poignancy with which T.S. Eliot describes his life.

"My life felt measured out in lumps too small. And there was a bewitching music from a distant room I couldn't find. Voices dying to be heard. Did I dare disurb the universe with in myself?"

These voices are usually overshadowed by others' expectations and my own fear of following the path laid out before me.

"Believe me, I wanted to shove all this away and pretend it didn't exist. But I couldn't. Life tasted of cardboard and smelled of stagnant air. At times I found myself shut in a closet of pain, unable to find the door. In my blackest moments I actualled about fantasized about running away from home to find the vital part of me that I had lost."

I want to run away when I see Alex on the street, when I've made myself to vulnerable, when I know I've messed up, when I get come back to my apartment and realize that the life that I've created isn't the same one that I've imagined for myself.

All quotations come from "When the Heart Waits" by Sue Monk Kidd, per Wimbo's recommendation... my own thoughts are interspersed throughout.

I wish I may, I wish I might

post on my blog everyday.
But, alas, I'm entrenched with a to-do list and a busy social calendar and my overwhelming exhaustion. I want to remember things from each day that made me feel at peace with where I'm at, that I am loved by something/someone in this crazy universe, and that I'm content with my circumstances.
Here are some of the highlights of my week (many have to do with first graders, as I spent a week away from them and realized how integral they are for me to experience life fully on a daily basis):
*Lots of missing teeth during our ten-day spring break, which made me think about how quickly and how slowly time passes
*A first-grader excited about the prospect of getting a K-E-G after school (meaning an E-K-G, the medical procedure, but just getting the letters all mixed up)
*One of my favorite disciplinary cases, with a behavioral contract, leaving the contract at a cafe. I asked him where I could find it, if the cafe was nearby. He couldn't remember but said that it was called Cafe Enchante (meaning enchanted cafe) and that it was at 21st and Geary. A few miles from school and I didn't make the journey, since I wasn't sure if I would actually find it there
*Playing rock-band with a six-year-old (babysitting one of the kids in my class) who knows all of the words to Eye of the Tiger. I can't even figure out the bass to play along. He tells me that this was the highlight of his week, that he is going to write in his journal next week about me coming over to his house. I feel loved, even though it's a Friday night, and none of my friends are wondering where I am.
*Connecting with other moms on a field trip about how they wish they were still in their twenties and I wish that I had more stability in my life, that I knew what I was going to do the day after tomorrow.
*Feeling anxious, lonely, lost, and windblown in Alamo Square. Fortuitously meeting the kindergarten teacher from one of the schools I've applied to for next year, after his dog comes sniffing out our snacks.
*Finding out that there's a yoga class specifically tailored to people with anxiety and depression and coming out of a yoga class feeling restored and renewed, like I could fall asleep that night.
*Not letting doctor's appointments throw me over the edge, feeling like a number in an HMO system. Knowing that people can care about me in these huge, blocky buildings even if they seem intimidating from the outside and I can't find my way around once I'm on the maze of an inside.
*Realizing that my summer plans may have opened up and that I can look forward to a trip, pursue painting, take a sabbatical from teaching before my classes start in the fall.
*Seeing seven different John Smiths, chronicaling a life from birth to death, on the TV version of "This American Life," after it was highlighted in the live broadcast on Thursday. Seeing that I struggle with different things as my parents and the kids in my class, but that doesn't mean that I can't seek to understand where they are coming from.
*Volunteering in a low-income elementary school and seeing another facet of the educational system in an urban community. Running into Paul Trudeau and Matt Nault to help them finish the mural, which was what I needed to unwind at the end of that day.
*Sitting by myself at a concert on Tuesday night when my friend and his roommate went off to get a drink. Realizing that someone else's reaction to me doesn't mean anything about me.
*Being spontaneous but knowing my boundaries and limits at the same time.
*Coming back on the airplane to San Francisco and realizing that this is my home. There will be days when the power is off at Trader Joe's and my roommate and I have to trek across the city in search of an open grocery store. Or when the weather will change 30 degrees overnight and no air conditioning is to be found. Public transportation will not run in a timely manner and acquiring a fully-functioning bike will not be an easy feat. Drivers will be crazy, directions will be impossible. Noise is everywhere, sirens and an air filter will lull you to sleep. Jobs won't be guaranteed and people will always be more qualified than you. But there will be quirky tea rooms, French-speaking populations, art galleries, progressive thriving Christian communities, oases of calm, unlimited opportunities, and walks along the coast after work. Knowing that on April 25, 2009, these are circumstances that are worth dealing with in order to be here, now.

Felicity, Days 2 and 3

I felt quite like Felicity as I wandered around the campus areas close to NYU. Of course, I started out college as a pre-med but wound up majoring in studio art and French. I tried to keep my wary parents on-board with my decision. But, unlike Felicity, I didn't have two attractive boys pining away after me. I only had the old man at the cafe where I met Mary Hammon plead with me not to leave. I only had the man, on one of my many strolls, yelling at me on the street, "You're beautiful!" when I kept my eyes glued to the ground.
I did have a revelation at the Bonnard exhibit where as my personal growth feedback inventory forms would report, I felt alive. I was able to think of who I was, in college, how much I gained from staring at Bonnard's paintings and seeing the world from his vantage point, jumbled as it was. And who I am now, 3 years later, still able to contact that person that I was then, though she once again needs her creative energies awakened.
I felt similarly renewed when I was at the Strand Bookstore, paging through the miles and miles of books, thankful to leave my heavy bags at the holds desk. Somewhere in the basement I got lost in the education section, thinking that's where I should be if I want to be a teacher, but also getting mixed up in the popular fiction, psychology, parenting, religion and new arrivals. I wanted to be as literary hungry as I had been for a long time in high school, devouring every new text in front of me. I found that same person, able to read an almost 400 page book in 3 days, capturing my attention amidst the quiet of my house's guest room.
And I felt thankful to see friends, some of whom have quietly exited my life and now re-entered. I was encouraged, that thankfully, we were all going through the same process of finding ourselves and becoming real with the person that we were trying to nurture during college. We've moved to cities from our suburbias, convinced that we will have a better chance of succeeding there and knowing that social and cultural opportunities abound. I found out that my sister-like, vegetarian friend from Camp Hollymont had gotten engaged. I commiserated with others who are striving to figure out now that the world we had dreamed up when we were 6 and then 18 and now 25 isn't the same as we had originally envisioned.
I guess that I still don't possess the same innocence and naivete that Felicity's original character embodied. Keri Russell never became jaded by her relationships and in the end, she embraced the person she knew she had to become and go back to med school. I, on the other hand, struggle daily with my career and now school choices, my relationships, and myself. I want to end on a spirit of optimism, since I felt like my trip home meant exactly that. It's helpful knowing that I have my parents' and friends' unconditional, and at times, mildly reproachful, support on the journey ahead. Even though it may not be exactly what I had in mind for myself.

Love, LOVE, love

The following was written on the train from Lancaster to NYC, on what I like to call Felicity Day 1, Meg finds her inner-self on the streets of New York City, particularly the West Village.

I’m always amazed that my mom is still my mom every time that I come home. Sure, she may become frazzled and upset when I don’t act my now almost twenty-five year old self, but she’s still the same mom that loved and supported me throughout my infancy, elementary, middle, high school, and college years.
The more that I work with kids the more I realize the sacrifice involved on the part of the parents. I see my mom do it everyday, she puts my brother and I before herself, even though she is now at the point where she can easily put herself first. We aren’t dependent on her anymore, but she is willing to take us to the train station, help remove stains from our clothes, and find the last remaining Orla Kiely placemat at the York, Pennsylvania, Target.
Along with her unconditional support comes the assumption that I will eat dinner with my family when I’m home, that I will complete my homework of cover letters while she and my brother play golf, that I will make my bed everyday.
I think that my parents are in my life to show me just a portion of God’s love for me. Who else would drop everything to show their daughter just how special she is to turn 13 by throwing her a talent show birthday party? Which, by the way, was hilarious, I couldn’t help but relating to the middle schoolers that I work with at City Church after watching the actual footage of me dressed up as “Baby Spice” with my seventh-grade posse as the other Spice Girls.
She’s the same person that feels my friend losing her job, wants to look at pictures on facebook of me with my friends, and help me create my evite for my upcoming birthday party. It’s amazing to me how involved and how much she cares about the minor details of my life. I like to think of God as way far away, but it’s comforting for me to think that He’s just as omnipresent as my mom. I think that He also cares about me enough to call me out when I’ve done something wrong, hurt another person or myself, just like my mom did this morning.
Sometimes it takes going home to give you perspective on your life 2,500 miles away. Getting caught up in the moment, what my social life looks like, what boy does or does not show interest, how I feel appreciated at work- I allow all of these things in San Francisco to dictate what my life looks like. I chase my identity in running from one activity to another, appeasing everyone and not allowing myself to disappoint anyone. I’m learning that I need to do what’s best for me, that the world will keep spinning on its axis without me, that sometimes I need to just give up control of feeling like I have my relationships within my grasp.
I’m listening to Phoenix, one of my favorite French pop groups. The beat brings me back to the Eurockeennes festival that I traveled to and camped out at, by myself, without a tent to speak of. I made friends with locals from Nancy, France, whose parents I worked with in the public schools. They were barely eighteen, just finished their baccaleureat, and intent on staying up all night. I found my own equilibrium between these high schoolers and my own expectations. I saw the artists I wanted to see, I found my newfound friends when I needed company or I felt lonely. I dropped my camera in the portapotty there, I got smashed during the mosh pit of Justice, I befriended people so that I could share a corner of their tent, and I talked to the bandmembers of I’m From Barcelona just to earn the privilege of buying a t-shirt. It was one of those experiences that I felt cared for, even though I was by myself, the God of the universe cared enough to look after me those three days in June of 2007.
I try sometimes to recreate the same highs that I’ve felt previously, but most of the time I’m disappointed by the expectations that I’ve placed on myself and others. I don’t know how to function without them, without thinking that person X should act a certain way in situation Y. I sense this frustration working with kids everyday, they usually don’t act the way that you expect them to. You have to give them grace daily to express who they are as individuals and coping with situations according to their worldview.
I’m trying to give myself that same grace with my life. Yes, life is disappointing, it’s not working out the way that I want it to, and sometimes I find myself angry with God. The thing is, it’s more about being content with my circumstances just the way that they are. I seem to hit this point in March of every year where I doubt everything: my job, my relationships, my next move. It’s that point in the school year where kids are restless and eager for spring break and the repose of summer vacation.
I too am restless for what God has for me next. But right now, I’m thankful for spring break and for my family, for my friends on the West and East Coasts, in Canada, in Europe, for turning 25 soon.

Series of contradictions

All week long, I've had a dialogue of possible blog entries going on in my head. Now that I'm sitting at my computer, ready to write, I can't think of a single one. I could tell you about some of the quirky adventures that I had while spending four days in the redwood trees of Santa Cruz with six-year-olds. I could tell you about how I realized that I don't take good enough care of myself sometimes; "I burn both ends of the candle," as my dad would put it. I could tell you how I felt most myself at a psychedelic Ratatat concert this week. I could tell you about how I build things up in my head so much so that once I finally get to the end result, I can't even enjoy them. I don't know how to live in the moment without thinking about the next 5,10, 15 minutes.
I'm in San Francisco, I've been here a year and a half. I watch a French movie and think about how I want to live there again someday. I know that it was hard there and at times I felt so alone. I know that I keep parts of my life there with me now. I have a community that loves me and I am blessed, I just don't know how to believe that sometimes.
It takes riding the 49 bus home with my friend Robin, sitting next to a man who rants about the truth in the world, for me to finally figure out that sometimes I strive for things that are unimportant. I want money, power, just like everyone else. I don't need other people to fill me up and affirm my self-worth. God is my creator, He knows me better than anyone else. Better than I know my almost 25-year-old self.
I have been having a lot of childhood flashbacks recently. It may be my upcoming trip home or the fact that I'm surrounded by kids most days. Like I've never been able to enjoy my birthday, being that much the center of the attention, since I turned six and spent the morning in the bathroom crying before my miniature golf party. Like I taught myself to French braid my hair so that I could do it to my own hair since my mom couldn't. Like I thought that the world was my oyster, I've since become disillusioned. Some days, I want to give up. I try and earn something but most days feel like I've accomplished nothing. My successes go through my head like a sieve and usually only the negatives remain.
The personal growth feedback has shaken my sense of self. I know when I feel most alive, it's not when other people think that I'm most alive. I have let them take over when I feel vulnerable. I want to look forward to things, but not act as though they will be the most important day, moment, event of my life. I want to live spontaneously, without expectations. I want to care for others but know my own limitations and needs and wants. I want to feel cared for, to be loved, to allow myself that risk. I want to ask my friend to take me to the doctor and not feel guilty about it afterwards. I want to contribute to my community but not so in ways that I allow myself to feel stressed, burnt out. I want to exude confidence and light, not shine it in people's eyes such that they are blinded by my honesty, candidness and energy. I want to get energy from myself and from others. I want to let myself rest and not feel like I'm missing out on anything, even if it's sunny outside. I want to live a day without a "To Do" list running through my head, to thrive on being present each moment but not procrastinating. I want to trust God with my life plan, trust Him with the day-to-day, with the future, with the past. I want to believe, "I will always show you where to go. I'll give you a full life in the emptiest of places- firm muscles, strong bones. You'll be like a well-watered garden, a gurgling spring that never runs dry." (Isaiah 58:11).

Me plus you equals us*

I've started the last two posts and haven't gotten further than the first 2 sentences. Something about my life recently makes me jump around from activity to activity, not being able to invest completely in what I'm doing. I get easily distracted and even the act of examen, reflecting back on the positive experiences from our day and where we felt God at work in a particular situation, sends my head spinning. I lie awake at night, pondering everything from relationships (I'm tested everyday on my boundaries and my tendencies to put others first), to my future (teaching seems like an insane choice, given how exhausting and taxing it can be). On Wednesday night, I lay awake for two hours, just feeling anxious about some situations more than others. The previous night, I had a nightmare which brought to light some of my most fervent anxieties. I was exhausted from processing through the feelings that the dream had brought up and all I wanted to do was drift soundly off to sleep. I tried everything, listening to a podcast, deep breathing exercises, sleeping medication.
I finally fell asleep around 2 AM, but I awoke the next day still frazzled and uneasy. I want to wake up each day and read my devotional, absorbing the words and promises that God has for me. But somehow along the way, running to the number 5 bus, managing 18 first-graders, filling out job applications, analyzing text messages, I get lost in self-pity for myself and my confidence is shaken.
I want to be able to embrace where I'm at at this very moment in time, having free time this weekend and energy to expend doing the things that I enjoy. I want to be okay with resting in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, if that's what I need to do. Somehow along the way, I let the incoming flux of messages from those around me bleat out the still quiet voice of my own.
*Credit for title given to the great Magret Rockers

Good enough for Berkeley

I've never felt peace like I felt after being rejected from Berkeley's education program the other day. It was almost eery that I could even swallow something so big and daunting regarding my future.

Lenten resolution

I've been remiss in blogging lately on my path to self-discovery, but reflection is partly about experiencing things whole-heartedly and then looking back on them after the fact.

GL-inda

I dressed up as Glinda for Halloween this past year... thinking that of course, it was a nice and friendly image to portray to six-year olds. I had seen Wicked and I knew of Glinda's duality and hidden motives. Somehow seeing the Broadway production the other night made me feel like I can easily embody her character. I want everyone to think of me as the "Good witch", popular, and the one who the charming male lead falls for. I find myself wondering how much of her people-pleasing tendencies do I possess, I want to be that person that encourages others, often disregarding the truth.
I would much rather be Elphaba, green skin and all, confident in herself and her capabilities despite her circumstance. Nothing can bring her down. Glinda can't cope with her friend's exuding confidence, all she can must is "I hope you're happy." When push comes to shove, she can't stand up for her friend and admit their friendship, she would rather become the public figure for Oz to bring people together in the midst of tragedy.
Do I want to be the artist, teacher, hipster/bohemian, City-Church goer that I've become since moving to the city? Does it matter that I won't always fit in, my green skin brightly emanating?
Why didn't I feel comfortable in the financial district during daylight hours, why don't I thrive in the Mission late at night? I want to be noticed, yet at the same time blend in. I want to be known at my school, yet it's hard for me to walk to school each day and be greeted like a celebrity by six-year-olds.
All I can hope for is to somehow defy gravity with the same fervor as Elphaba pronounces:

So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
"Ev'ryone deserves the chance to fly!"
And if I'm flying solo,
At least I'm flying free.
To those who'd ground me,
Take a message back from me:
Tell them how I am
Defying gravity!
I'm flying high,
Defying gravity!
And soon I'll match them in renown.
And nobody in, all of Oz.
No Wizard that there is or was.
Is ever gonna bring me down