Thank you, dear.

The end of my summer

melissaface — Mon, 23 Aug 2010 02:30:49 +0000

I went through old photos tonight that were sitting out on the table here at my grandparents and I realized that I don’t have near enough pictures of myself with the people I love.

Tomorrow I start my first day of teaching. I’m supposed to write a wonderfully detailed story about all the emotions I’m feeling, how excited I am. And while I’m most certainly nervous and scared and extremely anxious to get in and meet my kids, I’m also feeling quite pensive, which is not very uncommon for me.

I think it’s quite easy to get trapped in one’s thoughts. Wrapped up in the weight, whether it light or heavy, of the day.

I don’t have much to write about that I would feel comfortable posting online, but I have a lot of little projects in the works. One being a blog/column about my first year of teaching (that I’ve been terrible about putting off), another chronicling my life this summer at home with my aging grandparents and another is a book of love letters that I’d prefer to write while I’m still young and rather naive when it comes to the topic. So instead of my usual notes filled with double entendres and the sort, I’ll just go ahead and leave you with something a little more straight forward and so very fitting of my life at the moment:

It’s Good We Only See Each Other Once A Week – Phillip Lopate

I highly recommend that you listen to Garrison Keillor read it.

An open letter

melissaface — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 22:42:44 +0000

Dear You,

I know exactly where I’m standing and exactly where you are. And while I’m trying to find myself, I’m not sure if you’ll ever really need me. I sleep. I wake. But in the mirror I still can’t see my reflection.

And all these messages that seek direction aren’t getting me anywhere but deeper inside my own thoughts when really all I want is a place to lay my head. A place that feels like home.

Because everything that I once denied is now surfacing. Billowing into my brain like a virus, like a wave. I used to pray without ceasing, but commitment was never a thing I could convince myself to do.

I continue to look for you. A search that’s never over even though I know exactly where you are. And while every letter starts as a note to God, it always ends as a note to you.

Signed,

Be Thou My Vision

melissaface — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 02:42:34 +0000

There is a void. A hole in my chest. It doesn’t cease, it never breaks. I know what it wants, I know what it says. I hear it so clear, but it’s so far away.

I think there’s a point in life when everyone figures out their direction. Right now, for me, it’s a season of change. I’m in a transitional summer, so I cling to any consistency I can find. But I’m tired of writing about myself. I need more, but I need to find my place and really think things through this time.

I still don’t know where I’ll be living in August. I have no idea where I’ll work. It’s all really scary, but for now and hopefully forever, I’m going to try to sit back and enjoy the day.

Let’s take the moon and make it shine for everyone.

melissaface — Wed, 26 May 2010 04:33:32 +0000

I really, really want to go on a camping trip soon.

I also wanted to find a live version of this song, but the only videos I could find were of concerts with lots of loud singing along in the background. A shame there’s not anything better out there.

Ways I will make it through the summer.

melissaface — Thu, 20 May 2010 05:17:04 +0000

Ways I will make it through this South Texas summer:

1. Buy lots of linen: Skirts. Shorts. Dresses. Just lots and lots of linen.

2. Hydration: Skin and body. Basically tons of iced tea. Always.

3. Air Conditioning: There are many people to thank for this modern miracle. Right now I prefer to give a little shout to my grandparents for footing this summer’s bill. Thank God I don’t have to.

4. Snow cone stands: Last summer I went on the prowl for Houston’s best, but this year I’m back in the country. The search is over. Every town, including Danbury, has at least one state of the art snow cone stand. Dreamsicle with cream, I love you.

5. SWIMMING POOL. I am blessed and lucky and completely and utterly thankful that my grandparents have a lovely pool with amazing lounge chairs. Hello, tan.

Bonus: Living 20 minutes from the beach. Having a summer job where shorts are allowed. Lone Star.

In the coming days, probably somewhere around noon-ish, I’ll go sit outside with my laptop and write a follow-up piece: Ways this morbidly hot Texas summer will kill me.

It’s the last time we’ll fall in love.

melissaface — Wed, 19 May 2010 06:23:29 +0000

I haven’t written in here in awhile. Honestly, I’ve just been too busy going out. Seeing friends. Pulling all those pieces that fell apart back together. I’ve finally started mending myself after a broken month, but lately I’ve just tired myself to delirium to try not to deal with life. I don’t know. Maybe I need a vacation. I could probably also use a bicycle.

Today I saved a third grader from the monkey bars. No joke. I walked out of my class with a small group of students and noticed some kids on the playground, a couple of them that I used to work with but aren’t in the program anymore. One called out to me and said the boy was stuck. He was scared to get down. I asked him to hang tight and that I would take my class where they needed to be and come right back.

Bound and determined, I knew I wouldn’t leave without getting him down (he was probably nine feet in the air). After about 10 minutes, I finally talked him into climbing down. It wasn’t a big feat. Nothing really major. But as I stood under those bars, finding anyway I could to try to get him to trust me, to make him believe I wouldn’t let him fall, I finally figured out that I was exactly where I needed to be, doing exactly what I needed to do.

You’ll understand.

Here you go.

melissaface — Mon, 10 May 2010 01:10:17 +0000

If you look long enough, you can find some really good moments on YouTube.

To whom it may concern:

melissaface — Wed, 05 May 2010 04:33:14 +0000

I’m sorry I wasn’t exactly what you needed.

I’m sorry I never held back, controlled my feelings or played it cool.

I’m sorry that I sent too many texts or called too much. Or sometimes not enough. And that sometimes I backed off and sometimes I was too needy.

I’m sorry that I lied. I’m also sorry I told the truth.

I’m sorry for that night I drank too much and told you exactly how I felt, only to realize the next day that it wasn’t how I really felt at all.

I’m sorry I tried to control you. And then tried not to control you. And then went on to ignore you.

I’m sorry that I’m wishy-washy. And negative. And overly-positive. And that my hair isn’t long like it used to be.

I’m sorry for hiding everything I ever wrote about you or to you. I’m sorry for the pages and pages of letters you’ll never see. I’m sorry for the pages and pages of letters and prayers and journals that I tore up and threw away in the dumpster in Houston that I’ll never see. Again.

I’m sorry I deleted your e-mails. I’m also sorry that I didn’t delete your e-mails. And that I never gave back your shirts. And that you still have my pillow. And that I let you have the Wii.

I’m sorry that I never started my own actual record collection, but stopped buying with the plans on borrowing from your catalog. Forever.

I’m sorry I never went to see you. And I’m sorry you never came to see me.

I’m sorry I spent entirely too much money on that trip to New York. But I’m not sorry I actually visited New York.

I’m sorry that I don’t want to live in that city with you. Or have your children. Or settle down and be your wife. Because the truth is: I don’t even know if I want to get married at all.

I’m sorry that I’m sorry.

But really, I’m not sorry at all.

I’ve forgiven myself for all the things I could never do right. I’ve accepted the bad stuff. The shame. The guilt. The feeling that I could’ve done something better, because in the end, I’m exactly where I need to be.

Hell, we’re all happy here.

melissaface — Tue, 04 May 2010 04:50:03 +0000

I just don’t have much to say, so I’ll give an update:

My beach weekend in Galveston turned out to be an incredibly relaxing (no one died) and fun time (as expected), only to come back to a chaotic Monday. It’s not a bad thing, though. Just proves that life is life. Real and ever-changing.

I’ve applied for a ridiculous amount of jobs this evening; five or so different school districts, only to not actually complete a single application. (They all need essays and resumes to attach, which I’ll do on my conference tomorrow.)

In the meantime, my sunburn has turned to tan and my legs are no longer white. One summer goal completed. But, I’m still a little weary of the dreaded peeling part. And for all of you that no longer live in South Texas: Yes, mosquitos are back and in full-force. I have entirely too many bites to prove it.

Oh, AND my grandpa woke me up at 6 a.m. to discuss the previously mentioned trip to Oklahoma this morning. I guess he just can’t stop thinking about it so I think we’ve settled on an early June trip. It struck me as odd that he decided he HAD to tell me right at that moment, but then I remembered that I live with two 70-somethings.

Some things are expected to happen: basketball on TV, 6 and 10 p.m. news, Jay Leno and bed time right after. Others like 6 a.m. pow wows and my dog and gramps ACTUALLY getting along were a little less anticipated, but hell, we’re all happy here.

Now that I’ve found a place where I can breathe.

melissaface — Thu, 29 Apr 2010 04:20:47 +0000

I’ve quit measuring things in weeks, months and years. Or at least when it comes to discussing hardships. No longer will I make New Years’ resolutions or think about how bad of an age 24 turned out to be. Bad things will always happen. There will always be break-ups, flat tires, stolen phones, alarms that don’t go off and on and on and on.

It’s just the rough patches that life hands us. The patches that make us figure out who we really are.

For me, I keep looking up and moving onward. I will wake up the same way I did the day before. Eyes open, breathing deep while I brush my hair out of my face. I’ll pet my dog. Roll out of bed and take what the day hands me with the ability to drop all the bad things at the end of it and just be a human. A happy, breathing, blinking human.

In the meantime, this razor phone’s alarm blows. Especially when you have to walk into a classroom full 8th graders 15 minutes after you wake up.

Maria Taylor live. A good song to describe where I’m at. Finally.