The Autograph Book

I found this old autograph book once. I paid three dollars for it at a quirky little shop full of odds and ends. Something made me want to buy it. The front page is peeling, and the paper is brown and crumbling with age, but I bought it anyway. I took it home and I felt like I was holding a part of someone else’s life in my hands. Inside are well-wishes from many people. Barbara and Pete wish the happy couple many more years of bliss together on their twenty-fifth anniversary. Page after page is filled with scrawly, hand writing, celebrating the unknown couple’s many years together. I envy John and Jane Doe for what they had. I used to think that I was going to be single all of my life, and I was okay with that. Then I met this boy. He made me feel special. When he held my hand the first time, I felt that I was suddenly complete. I hadn’t realized that I had been incomplete until that moment. After that, I knew that I would never again be happy alone, or with just some guy that I barely knew, on a random date here and there. That had been my life before. I thought it was all I needed. I was wrong. I found out that there could be so much more in my life.

Needless to say, I fell in love. We made plans. We talked about marriage as if it was for sure. However, if there is one thing in life that is certain, it is that nothing is for sure. We had problems, big problems. Eventually, these big problems became insurmountable problems. I woke up every morning feeling alone and neglected. I was sad. I no longer trusted the boy that I loved and it broke my heart to know that my perfect love was not so perfect anymore. When I could no longer stand my own tears, the loneliness, and the fact that there was nothing holding up our relationship anymore, I ended things. That was the singularly most difficult thing I have ever had to do in my entire life. It was tougher than the time I had the change the tire. At least that time, dad came to my rescue. Dad can’t help this time. It was tougher than the time I wrote two ten-page exam essays in three hours. At least at that time, I had so much knowledge behind me that I was confident in what I was doing. This time, I was not confident. I was making my decision with my knowledge and his track record, while my heart was trying to decided which way would cause it less pain. I don’t like my decision. I’ve cried and screamed out-loud today so many times that my eyes have gone dry. I’ve cried out his name in hopes that in some cosmic miracle he’ll hear me, and he’ll call, so that maybe, just maybe, we can set things right somehow. Even so, I’m afraid to talk to him. I don’t want to hear his tears anymore, because they hurt more than my own.

What is wrong with this world? I always believed that when two people are in love, they’re supposed to be together. What is wrong with me? Is protecting myself more important than love? Is love more important than trust? I honestly don’t have the answers to those questions right now. My head is saying, “You can’t build a relationship without trust,” but my heart is saying, “Please! I beg of you! Fix this before it’s too late! I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT HIM!” So, I cry, and I scream,and my mind tries to tell my heart that trust is vital to a relationship...but my heart doesn’t listen. It’s crying and screaming too loudly to hear. I wish it would listen... Poor heart...it didn’t know that making a decision that is supposed to protect it, would hurt it more than it ever hurt before. Maybe it’s like those shots you get as a child. It hurts now, but it’s going to protect you in the future. My heart won’t believe this. It just keeps crying out his name...begging me like a little child, to have him back. Oh heart...I want that too...

So please, if YOU are reading this, and you’ve made it this far, consider doing something for me. If you love me, if you really love me, don’t let this happen. I think I’m like a lot of girls when they say, “it’s over.” Sometimes, we just want you to come after us. Sometimes, as girls, we just want to be rescued. We cry so loudly, and slam doors in your faces because we just want you to show us how much you love us by knocking one more time.

When we last talked, I told you that the ball was in your court now. All this time you’ve been saying that it was my choice, that it was up to me. I’m tired of it always being up to me. I think that’s part of what killed our relationship. I don’t want to always be in charge, always calling the shots. If this was the only way to wake you up and to let you see that I want YOU to do some of the work too, then fine. Here it is. It’s your turn. I’ve been carrying the weight of this decision ever since we last had a problem. Now it’s your turn. I’ve done all I can with what you’ve given me. I asked you to write down how you thought you were going to make things better. Well, you never did that. I asked for one small, simple thing, and you couldn’t even do that. Maybe you didn’t think it was worth it, that I was worth it. So here, I present it to you again, rather, I beg you again: please, don’t give up. I had to end things because I didn’t know how to fix them. I’ve got things to work on within myself, and so do you. Please, consider this as a “break” when we each take time to better ourselves as individuals. In the meantime, I don’t know how you can do it, but please, try to win me back. I love you, and I want to be with you. I want to be with you more than anything, but I can’t be with someone that I don’t trust. Do something, anything, to make that better. I’ve done all I can. It’s up to you now. If you accept my challenge, I’ll be waiting to somehow find out about it, even though I know it may take some time. If you do not, I will know that you never loved me as I thought you did, and I will know that as painful as it is, I made the right decision in ending our relationship. For the first time in my life...I’m wishing to be proven wrong. Please, prove me wrong.

For those few people who followed my "Drew" stories...

A Farewell to Drew




Somehow, you aren’t a real person anymore.

You are a mere figment of my imagination.

Somewhere along the line, I imagined you.

I certainly imagined the adventures we had together.

Even so, that is all right.

I never really needed you,

Like I thought I did.

I made so much out of you,

Even shared you with the world.

Your name is published, along with mine,

Yet…

You were never really there, were you?

Good bye, Drew.

It’s been fun.

Things that have gone into the Facebook Graveyard

Things that have gone into the Facebook Graveyard. RIP:


Super Pokes. Remember those? Facebookers used to use them to flirt with other facebookers. A hug was a good thing, a kiss was even better, and a wink had a meaning all of its own...

Bumper Stickers. You could display them all the way down on your profile, making your profile about two miles long, and very colorful. It was the perfect means of expression. The only downside was that you felt compelled to accept all bumper sticker gifts...even the lousy ones that had nothing to do with you.

Flair. Another version of Bumper Stickers...only rounder and placed on a virtual corkboard. These were quite fun and expressive if you could weed through the Twilight and Jonas Brothers ones...

The Wall-to-Wall button. Every now and again it resurects itself and one can use it, but in the past, it was always there so that you could directly post on someone's wall. Now we mostly just have lousy comment buttons.

Notifications for useless applications. The good part was you would get on facebook and see over 100 notifications, and for 1.5 seconds feel special and good about yourself. The bad part was that 98 of the notifications said, "Bob said something about you on Friend Game! See what he said HERE!" Once you clicked on it, you would have to play the game for 62 hours straight, answering 2,567 questions before it let you see that Bob thought that you have a nice sense of humor. This is one of the lost Facebook items that is missed very little...

Classic Novels and the Great Loss of the American Attention Span (in under 300 words)!

Well! It’s been several days since I’ve written anything. I have a slight sense of guilt over that. Today I have only had one student so far, so I’ve had a lot of time on my hands. I’ve spent that time mostly reading The Picture of Dorian Gray, and googling Oscar Wilde’s biography out of pure curiosity. After reading his bio, it is clear that he led an… interesting life. However, his writing is impeccable and maintains my interest. Like many classic, Victorian novels, the beginning drags on and nearly lulls one to sleep, but is worth continuing because the middle and the ending reveal great surprises and plot twists that modern novels lack entirely. There is something so fascinating about classic literature. Although such novels never give the reader the instant gratification that we all crave nowadays due to television shows, movies on demand, high-speed internet, and such, the classical authors knew how to produce suspense, emotion, and dramatic plot twists without being pathetic or soap opera- like. I wish I could write like that. I used to be able to sit down for hours and focus on a piece of work, letting my creative juices flow. After college, when I had to learn how to condense my words into a single, 3 page essays, I lost much of my attention span and my ability to write for long periods of time. I wish I could get that back, yet here I sit writing a blot, interrupted by frequent visits to Facebook. Who knows, maybe if I just keep writing, perhaps someday I’ll still be able to write that “Great American Novel.”

Visits with Friends, and a Quiet Day at Work

Today has had a good start to it! I left for work a bit early, in hopes of seeing a couple of friends who recently returned from a trip to Ireland. I was so pleased to see them both! I’ve missed them, and it was fun to live vicariously though their traveling tales. I was also extremely pleased when I saw that they bought me a present! It’s quite lovely, and very Celtic!


After that I still had some time to burn before work, so I called my friend Tess, and talked to her for a few minutes. We had a nice girl chat, and it was just good to hear her voice. It’s just little things like that that make my day! She’s a very lucky girl and is going to a Katy Perry concert tonight, with tickets that she won yesterday on a radio show. I told her to take lots of pictures!

Other than that, I have had a pretty quiet day. Once again, I have been visited by no students, and have edited no papers. However, I did have lunch with my coworker and his girlfriend. After lunch, my coworker’s girlfriend and I had a nice long chat about all sorts of fun subjects, so that was pleasant.

Now a frightening storm has rolled in, and the sky is raining buckets of water. I’m hoping it will be like most summer storms and will only be ominous for a short time and then will pass by, leaving us with clear skies and greener grass. However, the sky has yet to lighten up. Nothing left for me to do today but read a little more of “The Picture of Dorian Gray” and wait to see if any students will eventually pass through our doors. But, from the looks of things outside, it is unlikely that anyone will.

A Blog About Ballet...(because it's a dull day here...)

My mother paid for me to take ballet lessons when I was ten years old. I was going to be a ballerina. Of that, I was sure. I was enrolled at the best ballet school around, and they took dancing very seriously. The teachers trained each and every student to be primas. The girls mostly came from ten-cent millionaire families, and all went to private schools. Some were more stuck up than others, but we managed to coexist.


I wasn’t a very good dancer. I could hardly remember the steps, or in what sequence the steps should be performed. I am dyslexic and struggled with telling my left from my right, and knowing which foot to start on, or what arm corresponded with what leg. My only asset was that I was flexible and at ten years old, had the legs of a twenty-year-old woman. This particular asset earned me the nick name of “Legs” among the teachers. But even these assets couldn’t help me keep up with all of the girls who took 5 or more ballet classes a week and just had a natural knack for dancing.

When I was thirteen, I was allowed to start taking my ballet lessons on Pointe. My parents took me to a dance store and bought me the most expensive, not to mention painful, pair of shoes I have ever owned. They were beautiful, creamy-pink, satin toe shoes. I liked the look of my legs when I stood up in them. My teacher reminded me that they were not just shoes; they were an extension of the body.

That year, things changed. My teacher became ill, and ceased to teach classes while she was receiving treatment for her cancer. Other teachers came in to take her place, but they were not the same. One instructor was unaware that as beginners on Pointe, that we were not supposed to be on our toes for more than thirty minutes. She worked us in our Pointe shoes for an hour and a half. No one said anything, because we all wanted to be brave ballerinas, like the “big girls,” as we referred to any one of the classes ahead of us. One thing I was always taught during my ballet years was, “Smile! Don’t ever let anyone know you are in pain.”

I dropped out after that year. My teacher was still ill, and would not be returning anytime soon, and I wasn’t a very good dancer. The childhood allure of being a great ballerina no longer had the same appeal to me, nor was it a future possibility. I knew I’d never be a prima ballerina. I accepted it, and left ballet behind, along with the painful toe shoes, the tiny black leotards, and the worn-out pink slippers.

I didn’t touch ballet again until this year, over eight years later, when I was asked to be in a local production of Brigadoon. When I accepted, I had no idea that I would be re-immersed in ballet. Suddenly, I found myself thrown into both group dances and solos where I had to arabesque, plie, and rond de jambe. At first, I struggled, just as I had when I was a child. I couldn’t remember what step to perform next, or which foot to land on when I jumped. It was a dyslexic’s nightmare. Even so, I had missed ballet after all those years, and a small part of me wanted to do this, and do it right. I wanted to prove to my inner child that I still could be the ballerina that I always dreamed of being.

Then I began to practice. I practiced over and over and over. I took my digital camera to rehearsal and I filmed the choreographer, I filmed my fellow dancers. I filmed anyone who was willing to dance in front of my camera. I practiced backstage with my dance partner, and the other girls. I rehearsed at home in my kitchen. When I realized that I needed more space, I took my laptop out to the garage, opened up all the doors, swept the floor, and put on my worn-out slippers. Daily, I went through my dances until I knew them by heart. Every day before the show started, I rehearsed on stage when no one was around. I had so much help from my friends in the cast who never said no to my question, “Do you want to rehearse this dance with me?”

Finally, it paid off. For the first time in my life, I felt confident in my dancing. I’ve never felt that way before, even when I was taking lessons. This time around, something just clicked. Certain steps that I could never do before, such as a grand jetes, pirouettes, and shanay turns, I could do now effortlessly. I’ll never forget the way it feels to twirl across the stage, or completed a full leaping grand jete. So many times in the past, I had dreamed of leaping across the stage with perfect ease. In the dreams, it had felt like flying. Now, I was living that dream, and nothing could equal that feeling.

Weekend Fun and Writer's Block

Well, it’s back to work after a very nice weekend! I worked a little, and even got to hang out with some awesome people. On Friday, my friend from my former school made a the trip from Virgina to see some of us. We hung out at the mall for a little while and pretty much goofed off. We tested out (jumped on) all of the beds in Boscovs, watched a little of Apollo 13 in the Entertainment section (all of the Boscovs fun ended when the employees continued to follow us within a few feet radius), and made fun of all the flamboyant jackets and suits in one of the mall’s menswear stores. He even went into Victoria’s Secret with us girls as we tested out the perfumes and looked at the make up.


After that, I went home and watched movies with my family and my boyfriend. We finally got to see the final installment of the glorious Shrek saga, and watched the romantic comedy, “Hitch.” I enjoyed both of them, but didn’t think that Shrek was as good as some of the earlier ones. As for “Hitch,” I always enjoy Will Smith…even if the movie was made several years ago. So, I was really glad to see the boyfriend, and all in all, it was a very good day…and night.

On Saturday, I touched base with my favorite Canadian, Tess. Even though we didn’t get to talk much, it was just very nice to hear her voice. It’s hard to believe that one of my dearest friends is so far away that I can’t just hop in the car and go visit her whenever I want to, like I used to do. But it’s alright. We keep in very good communication.

Other than those bright moments in my weekend, and work, I attempted to work on a short story. It’s a sequel to one I’ve already written. I’m struggling with a mild case of writers block and don’t really have much of an idea where to go to next. Perhaps I will start putting up parts of my stories sometime…what do you think? Yea? Nay?

A Run-In with Mr.God-of-the-IT-Department-Who-Has-Nothing-to-Do-With-My-Job

Well, today has been…interesting, so far. I had a rush of students this morning, but after they left, I haven’t had any papers to check. Every day I go to the dean of the library and ask her for the key to my former boss’ office so that I can use her computer to check for emailed essays that I will need to review. I was told by my boss before she left that I could only use her computer, and the front desk computer for the emailed papers, because they were the only ones set up for that purpose. I haven’t had any problems with this, until today. When I went to ask for the key, one of the librarians informed me that the dean was out with bronchitis. She told me that I could talk to the man who is the head of the IT department, because he carries the master keys to everything in the library. Since I have never met him before, she took me over to introduce me. This was where it got…strange. Ginny introduced me as a tutor, who needed to get into the office. This man, Mr. God-of-the-IT-Department, a tall, slender, balding man, who appeared to be nearing his sixties, looked down his nose at me. He didn’t believe a word that the librarian was saying. He just thought that I was some punk student, who wanted to get into the office for some reason. The librarian and I repeated over and over who I was, what I was doing there, and that I had been doing this job for three years now.


When he finally seemed somewhat convinced that I had some sort of business in the Support Center, he came downstairs with the librarian and me. As we were walking, he turned to the librarian and said, “Isn’t that office all cleaned out now?” When she assured him that it was, he said, “Okay, good, so she can’t walk out with anything.” I was appalled. Did this man, this God-of-the-IT-Department-Who-Has-Nothing-to-Do-With-My-Job-or-the-Support-Center just accuse me of an intention to steal? I couldn’t believe it. Even so, I tried to brush it off and laugh at the whole situation, but I was incredibly disturbed. I tried to personally and officially introduce myself to him and tell him again what I was doing there, but he only just looked at me and turned away.

When he finally opened up the office for me, he instructed me on how to turn on the computer. I calmly put my things down on the desk and told him that I have used this office everyday now this summer and I knew how everything worked and how to use the computer. I saw a light bulb come on in his eyes as he seemed to finally realize that I actually do know what I’m doing. Before he left, one of my coworkers over heard some of the problem and came to back me up. She told him, “Eileen is in charge here.” But that still didn’t seem to matter to him. He told her to, “keep an eye on her.” I have never been so insulted.

Dorian Gray, Canada Day, and a Psychic Connection

Well, whatever that huge rush of students was two days ago, it’s over now. I haven’t had a student all day. However, I have not been alone. One of my good friends came in to see me today, for which I am very grateful, and I had wonderful Facebook conversations with my two best friends. Even though it is a day early, I would like to wish my dear friend Tess, a very happy Canada Day! I was informed that it is pretty much the same thing as America’s Independence Day, only 3 days earlier. I plan on giving Tess a call tonight, because well…it’s been a long time since we’ve had a good chat, and I thank God that my long distance coverage is kind to my international calls!


I’ve been missing some of my friends from Brigadoon. Thankfully, we’ve kept in pretty good touch over the past few days. Two nights ago, I had a dream about one of the guys in the play. The dream was fuzzy, but I remember that he was living in New Jersey, and I had gone to visit him. All throughout the dream, I had the vague impression that something was wrong, but I didn’t know what it was. Yesterday, I wrote to him to tell him about it. He was very upset, and gave me a call. He told me that he was in New Jersey at the time. After we talked, I started to think about my dream again. It’s a little uncanny. I feel as if my dream predicted what happened to my friend, almost as if to tell me that he needed me. Who knows.

On another note, I have started a new book! Well, it’s not new by any means, but it’s new to me! It is Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray. It’s a little slow in the beginning, like many Victorian novels. However, I have been told that it is completely worth finishing (also like most Victorian novels). I loved Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, and was even lucky enough to play the role of Gwendolen in a local production of the play a year ago, so I’m hoping to like Wilde’s novel just as much. I’ll let you know how it goes.

So, today’s been a good day. I don’t really have anything terribly interesting or well-written to add, so I suppose I’ll sign off for now. Have a good night!

The Great Paper-Zillah and A Good Guy Flick!

So…yesterday was the first day that I’ve really had to actually work, while I’m at work. I had a student waiting for me when I arrived. As soon as I was finished helping him, another student came in. It was good to be busy. I felt sorry (and frustrated) for this one student who arrived a little bit later. She had never used a computer ever, so I spent most of the time showing her how to just turn on the computer, put in her thumb drive, and use the word processor. It’s hard to believe that there are people who don’t know how to use certain technology, while I feel it is as natural as breathing. Even though I felt bad for her and wanted to help, I must admit, my fuse was getting short.


Later in the afternoon I received a couple of papers by email. These are a little harder to work with, because I really can’t fix anything on them. I’m only allowed to point out big, reoccurring errors, like run-on’s and fragments. The first paper took me just under an hour to review. It wasn’t a bad paper, but I found the job to be somewhat strenuous. That was nothing. The second paper was like Paper-Zillah! I wanted so badly to just go through and rewrite the entire thing, but alas! That goes completely against my job, and my morals. I did the best I could with it, but it took me over an hour, and I was getting really discouraged by the end. I felt so bad sending that paper back with a million and one comments written all over it, but it was the best I could do. I have a new respect for English teachers who actually have to grade that stuff. I also have a renewed disappointment in school systems that send their graduates to college with less than a basic knowledge of the English language.

Alright, that’s my rant for today. I’m at work again, and there isn’t a student in sight, not for English, and not even for math. I took advantage of the time to do a little writing. Even though this is completely off topic, I’ve got this strange desire to do a “guy date” and just grab a friend and go see as many loud, blow-up-everything, superhero movies as I possibly can before they’re out of theatres. I sort of miss doing that with the guys I used to date, or hang out with. It’s a lot of fun, and I’ve discovered that I like those movies just as much as I do my favorite chick flicks. So…popcorn anyone?

Vanished into the Mists....Like Brigadoon....

My show, Brigadoon, is over. It has vanished into the annoying mists that caused the entire cast to choke and sputter backstage. It was a wonderful final performance. I got to play the part of Maggie and dance the final ballets. Ballet has become a part of my life again, and I’m reluctant to let it go. I finally feel like a real dancer, unlike I have ever felt before in my life. I owe that sense of accomplishment to the choreographer, director, and fellow dancers who all supported my endeavors to get back on my toes. I am proud of what I have done, and I will treasure that experience always.


I have met many wonderful people through this show, and have been reunited with others that I haven’t worked with in a year, or years. One of the best parts about theatre is that it is a family. I’ve discovered that theatre is a place for misfits. Ah yes, sad, but true. We are all very quirky people who have found that even though we have our own lives outside of the stage, we work best together, and that we relate to one another. We just fit. Even people who I felt were so different from me at the begging of the show, and I thought would never be close to me, have become just that. Theatre teaches one to look past a person’s looks and all outward personas, and to just focus on the individual at his or her very core. That’s what I love about it. I am so different from so many of them, just as they are so different from me and each other, yet, we accept that, we accept the quirks, and realize that those differences are what make us FIT.

I love my theatre family, and last night, I was reunited with some friends who I haven’t seen or worked with since I first started theatre many years ago. I looked around me at one point in the evening, and saw that I was surrounded by several members of the very first cast that I ever worked with. All at once, I was back in “Ah, Wilderness” and was 17 again, experiencing love and theatre for the first time. They say that your first time for anything is something that you can never recapture. That might be true, but sometimes, you can get awfully darn close.

Together, we relived memories, shared stories, encouraged each other, caught up on current events in our lives, gave gifts, hugged, sang show tunes, and took dozens of pictures. It’s always hard to leave these people, but I’ve got an autograph book full of messages, a camera full of photos, a mind full of memories, and a heart full of love for the actors.

But the Greatest of These is Love

“Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; 5 does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; 6 does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; 7 bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. 8 Love never fails…….13 And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” 1 Corinthans 4-13


So, love conqures all, huh? I sure hope so, because sometimes, that’s all we’ve got. I’m not going to get all philosophical on you, but I’ve been going through some rough stuff very recently, and even though my faith and trust have been challenged, I’ve realized that regardless of what happens, love remains.

Sometimes we all need reminders of what is really important in life. I’ve had constant reminders over the past few days, and have been carrying one around with me, in my pocket. It is a little green, sea glass stone with the word, “Faith” etched inside of it. As I walk, I can feel the weight of it in my pocket, and I smile as I think of the friend who gave it to me as a graduation present, but also for what it stands for.

I appreciate all of the wonderful people who have taken their time to talk to me over the past few days. I truly am a blessed person to have so many wonderful friends and family members. So thank you. I shall try to make this my last depressing blog for awhile. I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel, the silver lining to the cloud, the icing on the cake, the cream in the cookie, and all of those other clichés!

I hope that you are reading this today, and I know that if you are, you will know what I mean. Even though we might not hear from each other for awhile, I’m still here, and I’ve placed all of this in God’ s hands. This too shall pass. Keep the faith. I love you.

I'm Nobody's Princess

Quid est amor sine fiduciam?


What is love without trust? Is it possible? Does it exist? Whenever I think about the themes of love and trust, I always think about my favorite movie, Everafter. In the movie, the heroine, Danielle, is a peasant girl who dresses up like a courtier to save her family’s servant who has been sold into slavery. While she is dressed as such, the prince of France sees her, hears her plea to free the servant, and falls in love with her…typical chick flick. Girls, you know we love this stuff. Prince Henry thinks he has found his match, and Danielle keeps up the charade by taking on her mother’s name, Nicole, and continues to play the part of a courtier. She has the prince fooled, and wants to tell him the truth, but is afraid. Her evil step mother (yes, this is a Cinderella story) discovers her deception and exposes her lie to the entire royal court, including the heartbroken prince who disowns her on the spot. After she runs away (leaving, of course, the glass slipper), the prince is confronted by a wise old man, who just happens to be Leonardo Da Vinci. Da Vinci tells him to go after her because she is his “match.” The prince looks up at the old man and says, “And love without trust, what of that?” He cannot trust her. She has deceived him. All of the millions of times that I’ve watched that movie, I felt sorry for Danielle for being rejected like that, but this time around, now that I know what it feels like to be lied to by someone you love and trust so dearly, I feel for Prince Henry. It’s a horrible thing to have believed in someone so deeply, placed all of your faith in that person, and then find out that he or she has been lying to you all along, masking a deception. It is the stuff broken hearts are made of.

So, once you’ve discovered the lie, how do you deal with it? Can you forgive and go on loving? Or, do you take this as a warning and protect yourself from future heartache? I don’t really know, to be honest. The good news is, I’ve stopped crying, and I’ve got a great support system made up of my mother, who would kill for me, a friend who sits up with me until 2 in the morning, and a best girlfriend who brings me ice cream to pig out on until I feel better.

But wait a minute! You might be thinking, “But how does the movie end? Does the Prince accept her?” Of course, being the Cinderella story that it is, he does. But unfortunately, life isn’t a fairytale, and I’m nobody’s princess.

Thoughts on a Rainy Monday

Have you ever been to that place in your life where you just don’t fit anymore? Over time, you change, your personality changes, your goals, priorities, interests, thoughts, and feelings change. Suddenly you discover that a place where you once used to fit so nicely is not as comfortable as it used to be. It sticks out at you in funny angles and prods at you until you know that it is time to find a new niche.


I have been feeling this way lately. It is time for me to move on in my life. I need to get out, get away, and do things for myself. The problem is that I don’t really know how. I don’t mean to upset people in my life. I really do love them, and appreciate everything that each one of them does for me, but I don’t know how to show them. I feel that anything I can do won’t be enough.

Something big needs to happen. I need a change; a big change. I need a chance to prove to myself that I really can be my own person, and that I can take care of myself. Maybe if this happens, I will cease to be a burden, and I will cause less heartache to those closest to me. God knows that I never wanted to be that way to them.

I do not mean to be a Debbie-Downer on the blog today, but it’s a Monday, and it’s raining outside…and so far today, I’ve only had one English student. I suppose that I’ll go back to reading “To Kill a Mockingbird.” I’m nearly finished, but I find that the book is slower during the courtroom scenes. I personally prefer the beginning and middle of the book when Scout and Jem are just being children, and I as the reader get to watch them grow up. Their childhoods remind me of my own. I had a fabulous childhood, and am luck to still have a great home life. I just find that over time, things change, and no matter how much you might hate it, sometimes you have to change with them.

To Everyone Who Came to See Brigadoon Last Night! THANK YOU!!!

Last night was without a doubt the best show of Brigadoon that we have had yet! For the first time, I felt confident about my ballet numbers, and they went off without a hitch. The best part was that several of my best friends were there. It means so much to me when friends come to see the show. My one friend, who I wrote about yesterday, drove two and a half hours to come visit us and see the show. He’s a great guy, and a perfect gentleman. When he saw that I would have a long walk in the dark to get back to my car, he insisted on walking back with me. Not a lot of guys would do that nowadays. Even though I know I’m perfectly safe walking to my car, it’s nice to know someone’s looking out for me.

Earlier in the evening, I had been outside the theatre, standing in utter darkness during the intermission, trying to send a text message (because there is no cell phone service in the theatre), and I saw someone walk by the alleyway. He looked incredibly like a boy that I’ve done several shows with. He had the right profile, the right walk and carriage. I knew it had to be him. He passed by three times before I got up the courage to call to him. Of course, I couldn’t go over there to him. I was in a full-length gown, wearing enough makeup to be mistaken as a “lady of the evening.” He came over, and we talked during intermission. He’s the type of person that I always hate to let go. We’ve become close, and I really value him. It meant a lot to me that he came out to see me and his other theatre friends a second time. I mean…tickets aren’t cheap.

With everyone who was there last night, it was delightful to see so many other familiar faces in the crowd. After the show, I looked around at everyone who was grouped outside the theatre, and I have done a show with nearly every one of them sometime in the past. Theatre is like a family, and often, a show becomes like a great big family reunion, or rather, several reunions.

Of course in every family, there are little dysfunctions… I saw that the guy who had played opposite me last summer had come. As he was standing in a circle, talking to some of the actors, I came over and said hello. He barely glanced at me, said “hi” and turned away. I bet his shoulder is still icy from that one. I don’t know what was wrong, we hadn’t had a fight. I suppose that it might have been because his girlfriend was standing right there with him… Sometimes relationships change people.

All in all, it was a great night. Now I’m ready to head to work, drive way too fast trying to get to the theatre in time, and do it all again tonight. Wish me a broken leg!

A blown fuse, Nancy Drew, great friends, and a kid on the roof...

Well my day has been off to an interesting start. It’s my day off, and I’m at home with my two younger siblings. My brother is crawling around on the roof, sounding like a very large squirrel, or a hurricane wind, and my little sister just blew a fuse. She didn’t know that it is a bad idea to run the air conditioning, the microwave, the toaster, not to mention the various other small appliances in the kitchen at the same time. I called my dad, and he walked me though how to get the fuse working again. At first, I was having a blond moment and didn’t notice the ancient, hand written, smeared and blurred list of labels for each fuse on the back of the fuse box door until after I was already frustrated that the individual fuses were not all labeled. Once I saw the list, it was easy to locate the trouble fuse. For a moment, I felt like Nancy Drew defusing a bomb…except there was no bomb, and I am not an eighteen-year-old detective with a cool car and a hot boyfriend.

Hopefully this day will get better. It looks a little dark and cloudy outside, as if it might rain at any second, but that’s okay. I’ve got big plans for today! After lunch, I’m going over my best friend’s house and we are going to hang out with a good friend of ours who is visiting, even though he has to drive several hours to see us. After dinner at their house, the whole group is going to come see my show tonight at the theatre. I must say, I’m extremely excited for them all to see the show. Since I am sharing my role with another girl, I am glad that my friend will get to see me playing my more important role tonight. I don’t say a word, and I have no solo songs, but I perform in several ballets, so I still feel that my role is vital to the show.

I am also very flattered that my friend is driving so far to come and watch my show. I have several family members who live near him, and they have never braved the long drive to even so much as come and visit us, let alone come see one of my shows. I mean, I understand. It’s a long trip…but I can’t help but think some times that that verse in the Bible hit the nail right on the head when it said something about a friend sticking closer than a brother. I’ve got a great family, but I must say, I’ve also got some pretty amazing friend who continue to surprise me with their loyalty and commitment. So, thanks guys. Enjoy the show!

Count that day lost...

Today is the last day of the work week for me, but is also the day I’ve been dreading. I’m currently in the play, Brigadoon at a local theatre, and tonight we are putting on a benefit performance. I order to actually be on stage in time, I’m going to have to do my hair and makeup before I leave work, which means I will leave work looking like a cross between a drag queen and a geisha. Once I get to the theatre, I will have just enough time to throw on my tights, shoes, and costume, and run onto the stage. I’m a little nervous about that because I’m the type of actress who likes to rehearse before every performance. If I don’t, I do not feel ready.

Even so, I kind of like the feeling of living a “fast-paced” life, so to speak. Ever since I was in my first show in 2007, I haven’t stopped acting, and always do three shows a year. I love it. I also love the fact that it keeps me busy. I don’t like being idle for too long. I sometimes even have trouble slowing down long enough to get the rest that my body needs. I guess that my desire to fill my days up with as much work and productivity as I can stems back to when I was a child. I had an autograph book that I was trying to fill. When I asked my great grandmother to write something, this is what she wrote, “Count that day lost when the low descending sun views from thy hand no worthy action done.” That struck such a chord with me, and I realized how important each day is, and how each one is a gift that shouldn’t be “lost.”

When I was a little older, I started to have some heart problems. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but I continually had violent heart palpitations. To discover the reason behind the palpitations, the doctors had me wear a heart monitor for the entire month of June. I was scared. I didn’t know if I was going to lose my life in one of the attacks, and no one could give me a straight answer as to what was wrong. I was frightened enough that I began to realized how temporary life really is. In just a moment, it can be snuffed out. I started living my life the way my great grandmother had taught me.

In retrospect, I really had no reason to be worried. My heart is strong, and I only had a small allergy to caffeine, which was easily remedied by abstaining from chocolate and other caffeinated edibles (trust me, it got easier as I went along). Even so, I felt like I learned an important principle: every day is a new opportunity to do something worthwhile. I guess my great grandmother ought to know…she’s had over ninety years’ worth of days filled with her goodness…and she’s still going strong.

Catching Fireflies with The Old Man and the Sea

Ah, day three of tutoring, and in all three days, I’ve only had one student. My coworker, who tutors math, has had more students than I’ve been able to count. This is to be expected. When you take a math class, you are immersed right in the class, but when you take an English class; you might not have a writing assignment or a paper for weeks. I’m not complaining, the hum of voices in the center makes things feel more normal, and the lack of English students allows me to catch up on my reading.


Today’s novel is The Old Man and the Sea by Earnest Hemingway. Ah, Earnest! One of the easiest writers to understand, yet even in his simplicity, his writing is multifaceted. If you’ve never read The Old Man and the Sea, it’s about, well….an old man, and his life as a fisherman…at the sea. I haven’t quite finished it, but so far, he has hooked a large fish and is being dragged along in his boat, hoping that the fish will tire out and give up so that he can reel it in. The fish has great stamina and continues to swim all through the day and into the night, taking the nameless old man with him for a ride. Even though the old man has no control of his destination on the ride, he remains calm, and always has a plan for each little obstacle that occurs.

He also manages to keep himself busy. Even out in the open sea, the old man (or rather, Hemingway) observes, ponders, and discusses to himself all of the life that he sees around him. He wonders why the dolphins appear to be purple-spotted when they really are golden, and he talks to the birds when they land on his skiff. The man is elderly, penniless, and has not caught a fish in over eighty days. The boy who had become like a son to him has been forced to work for a new fishing boat, and his small hut is sparingly adorned with reminders of his deceased wife. He has next to nothing, yet, his is happy. Out of everything I have observed in the novel so far, contentment in one’s situation stands out the most.

This theme seems to be occurring and reappearing in my life as of late. It is so important to take every day captive and find the little, pleasant things in it, even if it is as simple as observing the colors of a dolphin under water. For me, it has been the visit from a friend, a kind work spoken by a coworker, the knowledge that there is always someone out there who loves me, the single, beautiful pearl strung on my necklace, and the privilege to be doing something that I love.

With this in mind, I went for a walk last night. It was chilly for a June evening, and I was glad for the sweater around my shoulders. The sun was setting, and in the dim twilight I could feel the magic of the evening slipping out among the shadows. By the woods, I stopped, and reached out my hand for a firefly dancing amid the trees. Sometimes the fireflies are hard to spot, because without their lights, they blend into the dimness of the evening, and become one with the shadows. But then! They ignite their individual lights, and for a small window of time, I swiftly reach out my hand and grab the small creature. It remained in my palm for a moment, crawling over my fingers, and flashing its little light one more time before using my finger tip as a take-off pad. A car went by, and I realized that even though the people within the car were getting faster to their destination than I was to mine, they could not see the fireflies like I could. They would not get to witness the magic of the twilight, or capture that one small moment of the day.

While I'm Waiting...

I’ve been an English tutor for about three years now at the local college. It is the perfect job for me. I love tutoring, and feel so blessed to have been offered this position while I was a college student. Because of tutoring, I know that I want to be a teacher someday after I finish the necessary education. Even though I’ve been tutoring for so long, yesterday was actually my first day as a full time tutor for the summer semester. I thought it would be pretty much the same as tutoring during the normal spring and fall semesters, but much to my surprise, things have been quite different.


For one thing, my boss is no longer here. She is retired now, and I feel like the college has lost one of their greatest assets. A more kind, generous, godly, and helpful woman never walked the face of the earth. Her office is all cleaned out and empty now. I was told that I could use her office this summer to check online papers, but I think I will use a different computer instead. I would feel too much like a trespasser.

I called her the other day and I asked her some questions that I had about the job. She told me that I could always as the woman who was temporary taking her place, because, as she reminded me, she was no longer my boss. That’s a hard concept for me to grasp. She’s the best boss that an employee could ask for. No matter who ends up taking her place next semester, no one can be as wonderful as my previous boss.

Another change is that it is so empty and quiet! I am the only English tutor this summer, and my fellow coworker is the only math tutor. It’s just us, he and I. In the two days that we’ve been here, only one student, an English student, has come in for help. I am assured by the librarians that there will soon be plenty of students to tutor, so I have no doubt that very shortly, my days will be filled with subject/verb agreement, comma placement, and third person verses first person narrative.

Until then, the librarians seem to be ruling the roost. We are very lucky to have extremely qualified, helpful, and caring librarians who will go out of their way to help a student find a suitable book or source, but as of these two days, they’ve been checking in on my fellow tutor and I, frowning on us when we go to lunch together, and making off-handed comments about how we are running the center. Of course, the lunch thing makes sense. I don’t think we will be taking the same lunch hour any more, but for today, and yesterday, when the library is empty, I don’t think it’s going hurt. In the past, the librarians ruled the library, not the support center. I suppose that they are just trying to help out now that the boss is no longer here.

Another change is that my favorite teacher came to visit me today for a few minutes to ask me how the job is going. In all of the past semesters, I have always gone to pay him visits in his office between classes and work hours. This is the first time he’s ever just come over to pay me a visit. I am always so excited to see him. He’s not only my teacher, but he’s also my friend and greatest mentor. I told him once that he’s changed my life, and he asked me to tell him someday how he did that…and someday I will, but I don’t know where I would start. He’s stood up for me and stood behind me, when no one else would, he believes in me more than I believe in myself, and he is always ready to lend a hand when I need help. Even when I was at a different college and I was having an issue that caused me to panic, he was able to talk me down like no one else could, and helped me to find a sensible way out of the situation. Even his wife has been a reliable and helpful friend to me, lending an ear to all of the drama in my life, and being there for me in pretty much the same way as her husband has for so many years now. I don’t know what I would do without them, and I honestly wish that I could just sit down and write out every single thing that they have done for me, but that would take more time than even I have right now as I sit here in the lonely library, wondering if students will ever come.

With this being said, it’s been a pretty decent day. I even got a visit from my two best friends! We had a little girl chat, gossiped, shared a package of Starburst, and took a group trip to the bathroom. Even in the mundane regularity of life, every day seems to hold some new surprise, and I’m looking forward to tomorrow….and to the paycheck…