A couple of months ago I embarked on a journey to Asia. Some of the plan was cemented (i.e. when I would arrive and when I would leave). Some parts were less so (i.e. mostly everything else), but one thing was certain, I was being propelled into this journey by surrendering to a calling in my heart and I would have to trust to get through.
Gandhi named his autobiography Experiments in Truth and, though I could never claim the same wisdom of Gandhi, I hope to echo the source of it, as I believe the same force is guiding me as is attempting to guide us all: LOVE.
I delighted myself in flipping through his "Experiments" as I sat in hole-in-the-wall (literally) restaurants in the Indian parts of Malaysia; captivated by the lively and beautiful Indian culture, I allowed them to welcome me in any way they liked (which included a situation where two shopkeepers changed my nose-ring in a very sweaty misunderstanding). I enjoyed being a regular visitor to the same places in the Highlands of the North. I enjoyed seeing the same people as I sat by the glorious open windows and drank my locally-grown-tea, honey-milk style.
It was, however, not in my quiet reflections from my regular seat at the restaurant, but rather in a rickety old bucket seat on the most terrifying bus-ride of my life back to Kuala Lumpur that I realized Experiments in Trust would be just the perfect name for the trip I was living.
I would be happy to reveal several of my experiments to you as they are deemed relevant in the coming months, but let me share just one for now:
--------------------------------
This story finds its beginnings nearly 3 years ago.
Imagine getting onto a night train at midnight. Their air is cool, though July in Ljubljana, Slovenia is quite warm, so it's that pleasant coolness where the warmth hangs on too and the cool winds are met with the rising heat from the concrete beneath your sandals. You've just said goodbye to your pseudo-cousin who-you-love-and-admire-very-much and step onto the train, Munich-bound, and eventually bound for your Kansas-home. You're looking forward to an empty compartment and a bit of good rest to energize you for your long flights and instead- well, instead you get to your cabin and find that the only open seat is in the corner by the window. The compartment, upon first glance, seems to have too many legs. Everyone is crammed and you have to jump and hurdle over them to find your place. It's not easy... But your initial disappointment of the jam-packed space is met with delight as you see the space for what it IS filled with: 15 strangers who've conquered the loner-tendencies of the 21st century and have managed to forge friendships even in the fact of eminent parting-ways. I lose no time in making jokes and telling stories and getting to know these folks around me. Naturally, I spend the most time in conversation with the man to my immediate left: A Portuguese guy named Pedro. He's great! Also a graduate student and has a heart for seeing the world. Perfect.
As the train chugs on along, northwest bound, the compartment gradually drifts off to sleep. I am no exception, although my compromised space around the luggage on the floor does not make for the best night's rest. I wake up several times because I've just accidentally assaulted Pedro in his sleep. His reaction is always gracious: Laughing and joking and exchanging a few words with me before returning to the half-sleep we travelers have become accustomed to.
Sometime around 6 am my girl-from-Kansas-not-used-to-public-transportation fears get the best of me and I slip out of my seat to prepare to make a quick jump off the train. Now, you must remember that we strangers are sitting very close and my seat is basically as far away from the door as possible... and if you know me from outside of this blog, then you surely also recall that I am anything but smooth, especially when it comes to things like walking. SO I unintentionally wake up the entire compartment. Oh well- it gives me a chance to bid them farewell.
But the world is graciously not-so-large after-all, and goodbyes are not so determinate in this 21st century.
As I am waiting for the Munich Platform to focus, Pedro taps me on the shoulder. He gives me his email and a proper goodbye... because sometimes people should just keep in touch.
And so we did.
Somewhere, sometime after I'd gotten home, I stumbled across his email address and shot him a line. His response was comprehensive and full and a real friendship was born. We both allowed ourselves to trust a train friend who seemed interesting and thought it was worthwhile to keep in touch.
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How does all of this relate to Asia?
Because on the 16th of December, 2012, approximately 2.5 years after catching that midnight train from Ljubljana to Munich, I arrived in Kuala Lumpur and knocked on the door of my train friend with a back-pack and a week to kill. No hope or agenda, beyond letting a deep-seeded friendship nurture.
There is something incredibly human about trusting semi-strangers (or full strangers...).
About letting someone take you in and care for you.
And I think that there is something incredibly inhuman about having someone trust you that you've just met. I don't know what causes that disconnect- that fear of being trusted even when a part of you is apt to trust.
I suppose that if you throw a million stones,
take a thousand shots,
shoot a hundred arrows...
and everything is just enough off
It's impossible to believe something will catch you.
But if you hit your target. Just once.
If you're one of the lucky few.
If fortune turns toward you at the beginning of it all...
[...like she did me]
Well then you might just keep trusting. and knock on that door.
or open it.
I am thankful that I was somehow taught to trust people. I don't think that came from my own wisdom. It didn't even come from my friends. Nor my parents. God gave me that gift - I think. I trust that, at least.
And I trust my friend Pedro. I am thankful for that midnight ride to Munich. I am thankful for the emails. For the help and listening he chose to give willingly. I am thankful to meet a man and speak to each other outside of the TV-sitcom lure of lust. I am thankful that Pedro is, in fact, incredibly wonderful. And I am thankful that, though the world is big, and though pain is real, and though shit really does happen, there is still goodness found threaded throughout it all. You can still trust a train friend to be just a train friend, welcoming in an interesting stranger because it's good.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Hey, I love you.
Hey- welcome to our lives. :-) I'm guessing you have no idea what you're in for, especially since you're 6 days old and the neurons in your brain have not yet organized and developed to allow you to form memories, let alone make predictions... but let me share some important things with you.
I love you.
Your parents will probably tell you someday that aunt Nicole was not really a baby-enthusiast before she met you. And they wouldn't be wrong. I've got to say- I'm quite surprised with myself... never in my life have I felt so drawn to a child, let alone one that I do not even know, but I've looked at your picture at least 10 times a day since your father texted me last Thursday. You are beautiful. You are real. You are honestly the creation of two people that I love so deeply (Mega-Pumped) and I truly love you already.
I cannot prepare you for the stories I will tell you about your parents, but I can promise you that I will tell you every single embarrassing story about dad that anyone can remember. I hope that I can prepare you to love the Transformers, because you will be getting something that has to do with Megatron from me every year for the rest of your life.
You should prepare yourself for being better at pulling good pranks than anyone else, because your Godmother has got some incredible skills. You actually might not make that many friends through the practical jokes, but- hey, good stories, right? You'll be Rick Rolling your whole pre-school class before they know what hit them.
A few months ago, I stumbled across a book of fortune-cookie fortunes. While I'm not so good at tearing the fortunes out of the book, I'd like to say I'm not bad at choosing the right fortunes for the right situation. I could not decide between these two, which I think are probably equally true:
I'm truly excited to be a part of the magic- and amazed that you have already sucked me in.
I cannot wait to meet you in person. I might even hold you, but let's not get too carried away.
With love,
Nicole
ps. For anyone who is not Matt, Rachel, or Abe, take a look at this adorable gift. Best. Godmother. Ever.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Plymouth Congregational Church of Lawrence
They invited me to post on their blog. Here are some [hopefully-articulated] thoughts on Belonging/Home.
Monday, August 13, 2012
Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you: PEPELKA!
Otherwise known as
Cinderella and the Glass Copat
My awesome students just finished uploading it. Only the first clip is in Slovene language (rest in English), but you can see my former castle-home and my adorable students.
The camera is a BIT shaky, and clips 2-4 are our last performance, which took place at the priest's home with... a few complications.
ENJOY THE SHOW
ps. the files are pretty big.
*remember, the costumes were all made by my 12-year-old student, Kristjan.
Cinderella and the Glass Copat
My awesome students just finished uploading it. Only the first clip is in Slovene language (rest in English), but you can see my former castle-home and my adorable students.
The camera is a BIT shaky, and clips 2-4 are our last performance, which took place at the priest's home with... a few complications.
ENJOY THE SHOW
ps. the files are pretty big.
*remember, the costumes were all made by my 12-year-old student, Kristjan.
Monday, July 30, 2012
A small flight for mankind, a giant leap for my grandmother
Since the first hot air balloon flight in 1783 (which carried a sheep, a duck, and a rooster*), man has dreamed of soaring to new heights... but some more than others.
Meet Darlene Moehlenbrink:
Mother. Grandmother. Trickster. Care-taker.
Dreamer.
Since her first sighting of a hot-air balloon, she has dreamed of taking the journey. But greater forces than her desire we working against her...
Mostly wind and rain.
Attempt #1: Sometime in the past two decades, my grandmother and grandfather went on a trip to Ohio. There my grandmother was going to make the flight. However, she didn't, and I don't really know the rest of that story. Sorry.
Attempt #2: In 2008, my sister and I received the call. Gma was going to the Hot-Air Balloon Festival in Topeka, KS, and we were invited to join her. The flight would be tethered, but we could at least step into the basket and float into the air. However, inclement weather prevented us from going.
Think that stopped my grandmother? Think again.
Attempt #3: 2012. Bus trip. Grandma invites her daughter and her grandchildren. It's part of the reason I came back from Slovenia when I did. To be a part of something HUGE.
Let me set the scene. We leave at 6:30 a.m. on a hot-Kansas morn, headed north to Beatrice, NE where we will continue with a bus full of old people (ladies, mostly), to the National Balloon Rally in Indianola, IA. The morning is beautiful as we chug along to our destination with a very old tour guide who, sad to say, did not keep her skilz with age.
We make a few stops as the whole bus... lunch at the 'Iowa Machine Shed', where we are served iced tea out of jars (dear Slovenes, I told you it happens) al
ong with our fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. We head to the Des Monies botanical gardens, take our afternoon naps at the Holiday Inn (remember. Bus trip.), and head to Indianola- the place where some dreams really do come true.
I don't know how much you know about ballooning, but it's an expensive and difficult sport. Each balloon has a crew, and each balloon also has a sort of awesome name. Here are some examples of the balloons we saw:
(My personal favorite was the balloon shaped like an eagle, but we only saw that one during the night balloon glow.)
Now, on Friday, July 27th, the conditions were not entirely perfect. It was a windy day in Indianola, perhaps too windy- we had no choice but to wait in nervous anticipation. Would my grandmother be thwarted a FOURTH time? Would she have to surrender this dream??
A little wind doesn't stop Grandma Moehlenbrink.
And luckily, a little wind doesn't stop the Balloon Rides either. The winds slowed enough to let us jump into the baskets, but were roaring enough to give us a really fantastic ride.
Sometimes, you're lucky enough to have your dream come true. Keep soarin', grandma.
*And was, consequently the protocol for diversity posters.
Meet Darlene Moehlenbrink:
Mother. Grandmother. Trickster. Care-taker.
Dreamer.
Since her first sighting of a hot-air balloon, she has dreamed of taking the journey. But greater forces than her desire we working against her...Mostly wind and rain.
Attempt #1: Sometime in the past two decades, my grandmother and grandfather went on a trip to Ohio. There my grandmother was going to make the flight. However, she didn't, and I don't really know the rest of that story. Sorry.
Attempt #2: In 2008, my sister and I received the call. Gma was going to the Hot-Air Balloon Festival in Topeka, KS, and we were invited to join her. The flight would be tethered, but we could at least step into the basket and float into the air. However, inclement weather prevented us from going.
Think that stopped my grandmother? Think again.
Attempt #3: 2012. Bus trip. Grandma invites her daughter and her grandchildren. It's part of the reason I came back from Slovenia when I did. To be a part of something HUGE.
Let me set the scene. We leave at 6:30 a.m. on a hot-Kansas morn, headed north to Beatrice, NE where we will continue with a bus full of old people (ladies, mostly), to the National Balloon Rally in Indianola, IA. The morning is beautiful as we chug along to our destination with a very old tour guide who, sad to say, did not keep her skilz with age.
We make a few stops as the whole bus... lunch at the 'Iowa Machine Shed', where we are served iced tea out of jars (dear Slovenes, I told you it happens) al
ong with our fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy. We head to the Des Monies botanical gardens, take our afternoon naps at the Holiday Inn (remember. Bus trip.), and head to Indianola- the place where some dreams really do come true.I don't know how much you know about ballooning, but it's an expensive and difficult sport. Each balloon has a crew, and each balloon also has a sort of awesome name. Here are some examples of the balloons we saw:
(My personal favorite was the balloon shaped like an eagle, but we only saw that one during the night balloon glow.)
Now, on Friday, July 27th, the conditions were not entirely perfect. It was a windy day in Indianola, perhaps too windy- we had no choice but to wait in nervous anticipation. Would my grandmother be thwarted a FOURTH time? Would she have to surrender this dream??
A little wind doesn't stop Grandma Moehlenbrink.
And luckily, a little wind doesn't stop the Balloon Rides either. The winds slowed enough to let us jump into the baskets, but were roaring enough to give us a really fantastic ride.
Sometimes, you're lucky enough to have your dream come true. Keep soarin', grandma.
*And was, consequently the protocol for diversity posters.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Thieves
Well- it's over.
Last day of work on Monday. Goodbye Osnovna Šola Antona Tomaža Linharta...
On Wednesday I finished my final 'meeting' with my project team, and then rode away honestly singing the song 'Freedom' as I hustled toward my next meeting (coffee with the old men that sit in front of my (former) castle). And I really really do feel utterly free.
This has been a really wild experience for me: Living in a place that I love, being surrounded by people that I have come to love, being fed with food that loves me... and yet constantly struggling with a set of interactions that has really taken a toll on me during the last year.
Now, I am going to get back to that, but in typical-Nicole-style, I'd like to relate this to something I love, using a large metaphor that, most-likely, only I will understand.
Shawn Hunter's Graduation Speech. Now this isn't me getting overly-emotional about graduating (that was high school Nicole. Ask my mom about the many days when I would put on my cap and gown as a 17-year-old and just sob in front of the mirror). People graduate and move away and change- and I am now a huge fan of that. I now understand how critical it is to experience new things and people (and that it doesn't necessarily require you to break off old ties and connections, especially if they continue to form who you are)...
This blog post is about the content of what Shawn says as he's reflecting over a period of time in his life.
I could've done better.
I could've done better.
This was a hard year. I continuously struggled with some conflicts that just would not come to an end- even when I thought they had I was floored by the reality that the misunderstandings between us were so huge they just were not going to dissipate. So I gave up. But not in love. But not in grace. Not in anything else I would be proud of.
I'm not really pleased. And though I am still doing a little happy dance about this relationship being over, I am also asking myself where I could have done better, aside from how I was treated. How could I have been more gracious? It's utterly transparent that I could have loved more.
Don't get me wrong- I'm certainly not placing the blame solely on myself... nor am I regretting the experience that I had, but merely acknowledging that I have fallen super short of grace.
I could've done better.
And there is a song that captures what I am trying to say- it's called Thieves by Quiet Corral and it's my listen-to-on-repeat-song of the week:
Last day of work on Monday. Goodbye Osnovna Šola Antona Tomaža Linharta...
On Wednesday I finished my final 'meeting' with my project team, and then rode away honestly singing the song 'Freedom' as I hustled toward my next meeting (coffee with the old men that sit in front of my (former) castle). And I really really do feel utterly free.
This has been a really wild experience for me: Living in a place that I love, being surrounded by people that I have come to love, being fed with food that loves me... and yet constantly struggling with a set of interactions that has really taken a toll on me during the last year.
Now, I am going to get back to that, but in typical-Nicole-style, I'd like to relate this to something I love, using a large metaphor that, most-likely, only I will understand.
Shawn Hunter's Graduation Speech. Now this isn't me getting overly-emotional about graduating (that was high school Nicole. Ask my mom about the many days when I would put on my cap and gown as a 17-year-old and just sob in front of the mirror). People graduate and move away and change- and I am now a huge fan of that. I now understand how critical it is to experience new things and people (and that it doesn't necessarily require you to break off old ties and connections, especially if they continue to form who you are)...
This blog post is about the content of what Shawn says as he's reflecting over a period of time in his life.
I could've done better.
I could've done better.
This was a hard year. I continuously struggled with some conflicts that just would not come to an end- even when I thought they had I was floored by the reality that the misunderstandings between us were so huge they just were not going to dissipate. So I gave up. But not in love. But not in grace. Not in anything else I would be proud of.
I'm not really pleased. And though I am still doing a little happy dance about this relationship being over, I am also asking myself where I could have done better, aside from how I was treated. How could I have been more gracious? It's utterly transparent that I could have loved more.
Don't get me wrong- I'm certainly not placing the blame solely on myself... nor am I regretting the experience that I had, but merely acknowledging that I have fallen super short of grace.
I could've done better.
And there is a song that captures what I am trying to say- it's called Thieves by Quiet Corral and it's my listen-to-on-repeat-song of the week:
we were born to be the thieves we are
so nothing’s safe
leave you crying but you should be thankful
we left you with your wife with your life
with your little ones
we might have taken you for all your worth
but it could have been worse
so nothing’s safe
leave you crying but you should be thankful
we left you with your wife with your life
with your little ones
we might have taken you for all your worth
but it could have been worse
As a natural optimist, I always see the glass half (more like 3/4) full. But I also hope for the best from everyone so strongly that I get these unfair expectations where I expect near perfection. I don't think that it's bad to hope for perfection, but maybe I do need to hope for perfection while also realizing that by nature we are thieves.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
All of the things I shouldn't be doing
Much like many young people in the world, I have a hard time doing exactly that which I should be doing most. I know I'm not alone- I mean, haven't we all spent a finals week obsessively making smoothies or playing sudoku? Haven't we all chosen laser tag over writing a term paper... at least once? Don't tell me you don't remember that week in college when you stayed in your pajamas eating your half-birthday truffles and reading the Half-Blood Prince instead of walking to campus in the snow for super-exciting SOE classes.
Well, I'm struggling here- there are about 354 things I need to do in Slovenia in the next month- many of which are actually due in the next week and a half. And yet, here I am. Watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother (I can't help it, Jason Segal is my favorite actor) and ''packing'' for the seaside. And here in Episode 3, season 2, Marshall is back into the dating circle and the television show is making fun of how bad he is at the game BECAUSE HE'S DOING ALL OF THE THINGS THAT I HAVE ALREADY DONE. Seriously- the last episode showed him shaking a girls hand and then talking about sweat. For too long.
This reminded me of a time that I had a crush on this guy who came too class really sweaty and I consoled him. By talking to him about sweat! For too long!! What is WRONG with me!?!
And writing THIS story reminded me of other hilarious/socially unacceptable dating situations I've been in. Years ago, I had a small (jk, huge) colony of plantar's warts living on my foot. I wasn't so embarrassed about it- I got them in taekwondo, which means I could easily kick the ass of anyone who tried to make fun of me. So anyway, I just dealt with it. For a while I was going to the podiatrist somewhere on Iowa street, and I drove past it on what was maybe-a-date with Nathan from my soc class. Nathan was super cool- like, leather jacket cool, and also happened to be very fun. We went mountain biking (see very old blog post about dates-going-wrong) and on the way back we passed the podiatrist, sparking this conversation:
Oh! I have to remember that I have an appointment tomorrow!
Wait, you have a podiatrist appointment?
Yes, I have a MASSIVE colony of plantar's warts
Oh, man, I actually do too.
Oh, yeah!!! Up-top!!!
------
Apparently giving high fives for both having HPV on your foot is not ok. He even told me that- by saying:
Nicole! I will not high-five you for that. Why aren't you embarrassed? You are supposed to be embarrassed!
I wasn't. I'm still not. Viruses happen, people. Especially if you explore places. So what happened to Nathan? Nothing. We didn't go for another date, but he did move to one of the Carolina's. I'm hoping that my lack-of-dating skills were not enough to drive him to another state.
And oh yeah, I would like to say that I have been Plantar's-Warts- free now for 3 years at least. The podiatrist was worthless- I got rid of them on my own. How? I would tell you, but it's too gross for a public blog. But ask me on a date and I might just give you all of the details...
Well, I'm struggling here- there are about 354 things I need to do in Slovenia in the next month- many of which are actually due in the next week and a half. And yet, here I am. Watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother (I can't help it, Jason Segal is my favorite actor) and ''packing'' for the seaside. And here in Episode 3, season 2, Marshall is back into the dating circle and the television show is making fun of how bad he is at the game BECAUSE HE'S DOING ALL OF THE THINGS THAT I HAVE ALREADY DONE. Seriously- the last episode showed him shaking a girls hand and then talking about sweat. For too long.
This reminded me of a time that I had a crush on this guy who came too class really sweaty and I consoled him. By talking to him about sweat! For too long!! What is WRONG with me!?!
And writing THIS story reminded me of other hilarious/socially unacceptable dating situations I've been in. Years ago, I had a small (jk, huge) colony of plantar's warts living on my foot. I wasn't so embarrassed about it- I got them in taekwondo, which means I could easily kick the ass of anyone who tried to make fun of me. So anyway, I just dealt with it. For a while I was going to the podiatrist somewhere on Iowa street, and I drove past it on what was maybe-a-date with Nathan from my soc class. Nathan was super cool- like, leather jacket cool, and also happened to be very fun. We went mountain biking (see very old blog post about dates-going-wrong) and on the way back we passed the podiatrist, sparking this conversation:
Oh! I have to remember that I have an appointment tomorrow!
Wait, you have a podiatrist appointment?
Yes, I have a MASSIVE colony of plantar's warts
Oh, man, I actually do too.
Oh, yeah!!! Up-top!!!
------
Apparently giving high fives for both having HPV on your foot is not ok. He even told me that- by saying:
Nicole! I will not high-five you for that. Why aren't you embarrassed? You are supposed to be embarrassed!
I wasn't. I'm still not. Viruses happen, people. Especially if you explore places. So what happened to Nathan? Nothing. We didn't go for another date, but he did move to one of the Carolina's. I'm hoping that my lack-of-dating skills were not enough to drive him to another state.
And oh yeah, I would like to say that I have been Plantar's-Warts- free now for 3 years at least. The podiatrist was worthless- I got rid of them on my own. How? I would tell you, but it's too gross for a public blog. But ask me on a date and I might just give you all of the details...
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Cinderella and the Glass Copat
Back in high school, Jessica Dawn Rogers and myself decided to write and direct a few one-act plays. Spoofs of familiar stories- perhaps changed so much that they weren't even recognizable (jk, they still were, they just weren't necessarily understandable). If you were lucky enough to know us in high school... perhaps you remember Albert Kong as the moon, Taylor Holenbeck playing a sort-of-stupid gangster, Adam Durar as a VERY confused 'Good-lookin' Guy'... Katie Wetzel as a tap-dancing evil stepsister... Chris Coffey as the gross best friend.
Well I took one of those stories and re-wrote it (remake of the remake) to make it appropriate for middle school English Language Learners in Slovenia. Basically I mean I took out the references to MHS, jokes that only Jess and I would understand, and added in some cultural jokes here.
How did it go?
It
Was
Incredible.
First of all- these kids are seriously remarkable. Their English, their humor, and their creativity. OH YEAH, and did I mention that ONE BOY made all of these costumes?! Check it out.
Clearly, the evil stepmother (above)
 |
Here you see Chloe and Jennifer, the two evil step-sisters, fighting about who is prettier/smarter.
 |
| AHHHH, The Fairy Godfather, complete with wings made by Kristjan, our designer. He sort of stole the show. |
 |
| Love at first sight? |
Awww, poor Cinderella has to go back to her horrible life with her evil step-family. Good thing MY step-family RULES.
 |
| But the slipper may save her after all (and really, we mean a slipper. Slovenes LOVE THEM). PS. Note the crinkle marks on this audience members' eyes from SMILING SO MUCH. |
This picture could seriously be used for a pamphlet or something. Perfect?
I want to do it all over again.
So wait- not everyone shows their emotions on their sleeves?
I would normally consider myself to be especially empathetic. I think that my 4th grade teacher did a really good job of teaching this concept and, if anything, I try too hard to put myself in others' shoes... as a teacher, this is also a weakness- I put myself in others shoes and then assume that everyone really is ME in their shoes, and thus does love learning for the sake of learning and wants to please the teacher because it's the right thing to do (and thus does think that my jokes are funny. Also, wrong). In reality, some kids just don't care.
And then the opposite is true: There are times when I am completely and utterly surprised by the emotions that people are holding on to because I have not tried to put myself in their shoes, and couldn't even if I wanted to. These Slovenes, I'll tell you what. I cannot predict the level with which they care about things because they express it in such a different way than I am used to doing myself (which is on every part of my face. SEE: CASA BONITA VIDEO 2008).
Well in a few areas of my life I've been starting to understand that people (even back home) really can care about things and express them differently than me. Sounds like a no-brainer, but it's pretty revolutionary in my life. Slovenes are known for being quite closed and taking a while to warm up to people. I've been living in Gorenjska for a long time now and couldn't agree more (with exceptions, of course). There have been people who have immediately taken to me (i.e. everyone under the age of 13), there have been people that have immediately and obviously disliked me, and I assumed that everyone else just didn't really care.
However, the past week or so brought me a few really touching moments- perhaps even more so because these moments showed me how little I understood about how we all effect each other.
1. Volleyball goodbyes. Ok- I don't think it's a secret that most of my company is either twice or half my age. And I love it. So much. I once read a book where a grandmother writes her grandson a letter and it says something like I hope that you find someone to be the blessing that you have been to me, and by that, I mean someone of a younger generation. Love this. Especially because I can totally relate here-- and I can see the ways that I have been a blessing to those older than me. Last week we were supposed to have our final game and afterwards we all met for a drink. Sandi shook my hand at the end- I like Sandi... he never says hi to me when he comes, but sometimes I wave at him from the other side of the court (it's more acceptable here than in taekwondo, where I also wave to people). Sandi is good. Probably about 63 or 64. He's got a weak serve but a wicked spike. So anyway... Sandi shook my hand, and then KEPT HOLDING ON TO IT while looking me in the eye.
'I am happy to know you. You have brought so much positive energy to the game, to our group. It will be very sad to see you go, but don't forget about us. We won't forget you. We won't forget your smile.'
I cried, but don't worry, we were in the kitchen so I pretended to cut onions. No one noticed.
2. Birthday wishes. This is your day, right? Well, at least June 2nd is mind, and now hopefully everyone should know... I've worked DAMN hard to make sure everyone hears a little melody in their heads on this day. Anyway- I got to celebrate with 2 groups of people that I really love... my students and my friends. However, I received a little surprise from the 5th graders, who remembered it was my birthday and were standing SILENTLY (this would mean more if you knew them), prepared to sing as soon as I walked into their door. Getting school-birthday rejected for the past 24 years was FULLY redeemed last week. Beautiful.
3. The art teacher. Now this was also really touching. I don't really know the art teacher. She sticks to herself for the most part, which I totally understand, given middle school drama in the staffroom. I've always liked her though. Once we met for coffee and she bought me a little chocolate thing that looks (and tastes?) like a hedgehog (just kidding about the former parenthesis).
She came to the play! Her, the gym coach, one of the cleaning ladies, two English teachers, and a 5th grade teacher. Amazing. I was floored. And even more so when she gave me a flower before the performance and told me that she was already sure it was going to be a great show.
Anyway- the point of all of this is to express my gratitude to Sandi, to Tone, to Vika, and to 5C. It is a gift to care for people... and it is a gift to be encouraged. I seriously feel like I'm swimming in love. Hopefully that explains the cheesiness of this post.
And then the opposite is true: There are times when I am completely and utterly surprised by the emotions that people are holding on to because I have not tried to put myself in their shoes, and couldn't even if I wanted to. These Slovenes, I'll tell you what. I cannot predict the level with which they care about things because they express it in such a different way than I am used to doing myself (which is on every part of my face. SEE: CASA BONITA VIDEO 2008).
Well in a few areas of my life I've been starting to understand that people (even back home) really can care about things and express them differently than me. Sounds like a no-brainer, but it's pretty revolutionary in my life. Slovenes are known for being quite closed and taking a while to warm up to people. I've been living in Gorenjska for a long time now and couldn't agree more (with exceptions, of course). There have been people who have immediately taken to me (i.e. everyone under the age of 13), there have been people that have immediately and obviously disliked me, and I assumed that everyone else just didn't really care.
However, the past week or so brought me a few really touching moments- perhaps even more so because these moments showed me how little I understood about how we all effect each other.
1. Volleyball goodbyes. Ok- I don't think it's a secret that most of my company is either twice or half my age. And I love it. So much. I once read a book where a grandmother writes her grandson a letter and it says something like I hope that you find someone to be the blessing that you have been to me, and by that, I mean someone of a younger generation. Love this. Especially because I can totally relate here-- and I can see the ways that I have been a blessing to those older than me. Last week we were supposed to have our final game and afterwards we all met for a drink. Sandi shook my hand at the end- I like Sandi... he never says hi to me when he comes, but sometimes I wave at him from the other side of the court (it's more acceptable here than in taekwondo, where I also wave to people). Sandi is good. Probably about 63 or 64. He's got a weak serve but a wicked spike. So anyway... Sandi shook my hand, and then KEPT HOLDING ON TO IT while looking me in the eye.
'I am happy to know you. You have brought so much positive energy to the game, to our group. It will be very sad to see you go, but don't forget about us. We won't forget you. We won't forget your smile.'
I cried, but don't worry, we were in the kitchen so I pretended to cut onions. No one noticed.
2. Birthday wishes. This is your day, right? Well, at least June 2nd is mind, and now hopefully everyone should know... I've worked DAMN hard to make sure everyone hears a little melody in their heads on this day. Anyway- I got to celebrate with 2 groups of people that I really love... my students and my friends. However, I received a little surprise from the 5th graders, who remembered it was my birthday and were standing SILENTLY (this would mean more if you knew them), prepared to sing as soon as I walked into their door. Getting school-birthday rejected for the past 24 years was FULLY redeemed last week. Beautiful.
3. The art teacher. Now this was also really touching. I don't really know the art teacher. She sticks to herself for the most part, which I totally understand, given middle school drama in the staffroom. I've always liked her though. Once we met for coffee and she bought me a little chocolate thing that looks (and tastes?) like a hedgehog (just kidding about the former parenthesis).
She came to the play! Her, the gym coach, one of the cleaning ladies, two English teachers, and a 5th grade teacher. Amazing. I was floored. And even more so when she gave me a flower before the performance and told me that she was already sure it was going to be a great show.
Anyway- the point of all of this is to express my gratitude to Sandi, to Tone, to Vika, and to 5C. It is a gift to care for people... and it is a gift to be encouraged. I seriously feel like I'm swimming in love. Hopefully that explains the cheesiness of this post.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Vanilla Ice
Although I am often regarded as an exceptionally cheerful and positive girl, there is a pretty long list of things that get on my nerves... probably a little too easily.
However, yesterday as I was contemplating life on my bicycle, I realized that much of this edge has been dulled in the past year. Is it because I've somehow become more patient? I really hope so, although I think it's perhaps more likely that my quick frustration with pet-peeves have gotten lost living in a foreign environment.
But there are a FEW things that will drive me crazy regardless of where I live. Most are not important, some would perhaps be a little too passive-aggressive to put on a blog. And thus, I give you the abridged list of things that drive me nuts:
Of COURSE it does. But is it really fair for you to make super amazing things and then look down on other people for taking a very (very) large portion? No. I will never be a super skinny girl- and though I may be annoyed with my struggle for self control at places like Mr. Bulkey's and my grandmother's house, I am also not ashamed to say that I can hit a bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms pretty hard.
However, yesterday as I was contemplating life on my bicycle, I realized that much of this edge has been dulled in the past year. Is it because I've somehow become more patient? I really hope so, although I think it's perhaps more likely that my quick frustration with pet-peeves have gotten lost living in a foreign environment.
But there are a FEW things that will drive me crazy regardless of where I live. Most are not important, some would perhaps be a little too passive-aggressive to put on a blog. And thus, I give you the abridged list of things that drive me nuts:
- Having NO regard for time.
- People that cook really delicious things and then cut themselves the smallest peace in the world because it has too much 'fat'.
Of COURSE it does. But is it really fair for you to make super amazing things and then look down on other people for taking a very (very) large portion? No. I will never be a super skinny girl- and though I may be annoyed with my struggle for self control at places like Mr. Bulkey's and my grandmother's house, I am also not ashamed to say that I can hit a bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms pretty hard.
- The people that are disappointed when they realize that 'Ice Ice Baby' is really 'Under Pressure'
Sunday, May 13, 2012
There is a place that I often
go on my bike when I need
beauty
or when I don't.
I am always
surprised.
my expectations are always
exceeded.
even my colorful mind,
which always
imagines things being better than they really are,
cannot contrive a place this magical.
It isn't the way the sun
shines on the trees in the valley
nor the color of the mountain wreath
surrounding me
it isn't even the beauty
itself,
I don't know what makes this beauty so beautiful
perhaps that
is it.
Brianna.
She saw this place.
maybe she lived there, now that I think about it.
because I know I heard her sing about it in
every note.
and I always
wondered.
How can a song be so beautiful that it forbids
jealousy
so beautiful that it's conquered even that.
And Robin. In her red dress
every Sunday.
Tender heart filled with love. Always
good.
Kevin. The stories they tell.
That beauty- it's
always.
I do not understand.
I do not
understand. Zdravko. Always
tender.
we were a good team,
weren't we.
I think we won. but maybe we lost
it isn't so important.
in fact, it doesn't matter at all.
I do not
understand.
Didn't you ever take that path there?
where I go on my bike
when I need
beauty
or when I don't.
even my colorful mind,
which always
imagines things being better than they really are,
cannot contrive a place this magical.
I don't know what makes this place so beautiful.
but just knowing that it is
is enough
go on my bike when I need
beauty
or when I don't.
I am always
surprised.
my expectations are always
exceeded.
even my colorful mind,
which always
imagines things being better than they really are,
cannot contrive a place this magical.
It isn't the way the sun
shines on the trees in the valley
nor the color of the mountain wreath
surrounding me
it isn't even the beauty
itself,
I don't know what makes this beauty so beautiful
perhaps that
is it.
Brianna.
She saw this place.
maybe she lived there, now that I think about it.
because I know I heard her sing about it in
every note.
and I always
wondered.
How can a song be so beautiful that it forbids
jealousy
so beautiful that it's conquered even that.
And Robin. In her red dress
every Sunday.
Tender heart filled with love. Always
good.
Kevin. The stories they tell.
That beauty- it's
always.
I do not understand.
I do not
understand. Zdravko. Always
tender.
we were a good team,
weren't we.
I think we won. but maybe we lost
it isn't so important.
in fact, it doesn't matter at all.
I do not
understand.
Didn't you ever take that path there?
where I go on my bike
when I need
beauty
or when I don't.
even my colorful mind,
which always
imagines things being better than they really are,
cannot contrive a place this magical.
I don't know what makes this place so beautiful.
but just knowing that it is
is enough
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Something's Coming
Could it be?
Yes it could.
Somethin's comin'
Something good.
If I can wait.
Somethin's coming
I don't know
What it is
But it is
It's gonna be great.
Something IS COMING. Perhaps that sounds like a super lame statement. Obviously something is coming. Itak, Nicole. But what? Where to go from here?
Last week I found out that I will NOT be receiving a Boren Fellowship. Bummer. Škoda. I've been coasting for a while, perhaps even riding the wave of scholarships and grants to Slovenia, but I guess even Johnny Tsunami has to fall off sometimes- and I guess I've gotten much better in time at dealing with Emergency Swimming Situations.
Truth is, while I received an initial shock at my plans finding themselves up in the air, a little bit of excitement has began. Ok, a lot. Like, I couldn't sleep on Wednesday night because I was so excited about whatever is next. I might be here (I'm speaking to my principal tomorrow about my chances at getting hired even if the project I work for completely loses funding) in Slovenia- working part time and finishing my thesis... and I might not. I'm hoping for wisdom and clarity in this time of chaos, but have miraculously already received peace in the knowledge that I am an adventurist- if I go where I think I should go, it is going to be an adventure.
"There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open." -Jawaharial Nehru
Sunday, April 15, 2012
I gave him the side hug
Social skills are a difficult thing to measure.
In some social areas, I'd say I'm doing just fine. For example, I generally make a pretty good first impression among parents. Actually, most parents love me, and I'm pretty sure a few have even tried to encourage their sons to court me. I've got some amazing trait that makes kids flock after me* and even attempt to emulate my every move**. Regardless of which country I am in, I'm always popular among the nursing-home crowd...
And yet, there are some skills that are just absolutely not there, or at least frequently missing: Like the ability to open the door without hitting my own face. Or the grace in leaving a shop without knocking over the display by the front door. Or the power to be in pictures without my mouth open. I do not think that I can be in a remotely exciting situation without looking like a little kid on Christmas (and not just any kid on Christmas... but one who's seeing snow for the first time after just finding out that they're going to Disney world the next day). I must be the worst person in the world at being smooth...
I am not sure how people would describe me in 3 words... but I am guessing it would not be 'smooth', 'cool', and 'relaxed' (unless, of course, the person describing me was me, in which case 'COOL' would definitely be in the mix. Along with wonderful... charming...).
Earlier this weekend I was spelunking with a friend and her family. I had to apologize for nearly wiping out for the bajillionth time and described myself as being awkward (actually, I first incorrectly said ''Nerodno mi gre'' and then later asked my friend if I said that correctly. Apparently, I said that I am embarrassed instead of that I am awkward, so I had to return to Ana's sister and tell her that I didn't mean I am embarrassed, but that instead I mean I am awkward). She asked me why I think that... and after a very long pause, I decided to answer her with this: ''Nisem sigurna'' (''I am not sure'').
Lie. I just didn't want to try to explain in Slovene. I have about 500 stories that involve me saying the wrong thing at the wrong time... echoing something that someone else said immediately and in front of them without realizing I am doing so... sneezing phlegm onto someone else's math paper... falling on my face while giving 20 college kids a tour of campus... The earliest super awkward occasion that I can remember was giving a PROJECT TALK on making your own picture frames in 4-H when I was young. ''Just remember, you must leave one side unglued... which I forgot to do'' (so I'll just slide in this picture that I took with the judge leaving glue streaks across her face). My most recent awkward occasion involved going back to the bike shop (where I'd already been several times last week) to attach the cleats to my new shoes. I made a spectacle of having found the cleats that came with the pedals that I'd bought at another store on sale... only to realize that I left them at home, had to leave again, and knocked over a whole line of bikes on my way out of the shop.
A normal day in my life is anything but glorious. However, I've gotten so used to these moments that I no longer get embarrassed by them- I just take them in stride. Tell them as stories, even. Which is where the title comes in: The story of my favorite lack-of-social-skills-moment, the answer to Mateja's question if I had enough language skills:
Several years ago, the dream team took a trip to visit Kate Wasserman in Dallas, TX. Amanda, Tyler and myself packed into Tyler's car and hit the open road. There are many stories from this trip worth repeating, and many moments that I would like to destroy along with any videos that had been made later capturing these moments (I will seriously be very upset if you attempt to post a link here. Please don't).
Somewhere in the middle of this trip, we went to lunch with Tyler's aunt and uncle. We met them at their house after passing the first Chile's in existence (at which time I complained about how much I hate Chile's. It's got to be one of my least favorite restaurants in the world. Derek loves it though, and for this reason we had to go every year on his birthday from the time he had teeth until the time I moved to another country). For some reason, this was one of those days where I was not fully with it. A little slow on the uptake... drifting in and out of the conversations. One moment we were in the living room chatting about our majors... next moment, I'm fading in and out of convos in the kitchen ('Yeah! It's the first Chile's ever made- we'd love to take you all there for lunch)... next moment, Tyler's uncle comes over to me and out of nowhere GIVES ME THE SIDE HUG.
Yeah, I was confused about it too. I gave Tyler this look like ''What's wrong with your uncle? Why is he reaching out to hug me?''. Tyler just shook his head.
Apparently his hat was on the shelf behind me, and I misread, causing me to reach out and cling to him.
I cannot say that the awkwardness of the day stopped there. I also caused a lot of confusion in the parking lot of Chile's, also with hugging. Additionally, as I recall, there was a moment when someone stopped at our table to tell Amanda that her taco was the same size as her head. I had nothing to do with that moment, but its worth mentioning nonetheless.
________________________________________________________________
*Probably my extreme wisdom and maturity.
**Muhaha
In some social areas, I'd say I'm doing just fine. For example, I generally make a pretty good first impression among parents. Actually, most parents love me, and I'm pretty sure a few have even tried to encourage their sons to court me. I've got some amazing trait that makes kids flock after me* and even attempt to emulate my every move**. Regardless of which country I am in, I'm always popular among the nursing-home crowd...
And yet, there are some skills that are just absolutely not there, or at least frequently missing: Like the ability to open the door without hitting my own face. Or the grace in leaving a shop without knocking over the display by the front door. Or the power to be in pictures without my mouth open. I do not think that I can be in a remotely exciting situation without looking like a little kid on Christmas (and not just any kid on Christmas... but one who's seeing snow for the first time after just finding out that they're going to Disney world the next day). I must be the worst person in the world at being smooth...
I am not sure how people would describe me in 3 words... but I am guessing it would not be 'smooth', 'cool', and 'relaxed' (unless, of course, the person describing me was me, in which case 'COOL' would definitely be in the mix. Along with wonderful... charming...).
Earlier this weekend I was spelunking with a friend and her family. I had to apologize for nearly wiping out for the bajillionth time and described myself as being awkward (actually, I first incorrectly said ''Nerodno mi gre'' and then later asked my friend if I said that correctly. Apparently, I said that I am embarrassed instead of that I am awkward, so I had to return to Ana's sister and tell her that I didn't mean I am embarrassed, but that instead I mean I am awkward). She asked me why I think that... and after a very long pause, I decided to answer her with this: ''Nisem sigurna'' (''I am not sure'').
Lie. I just didn't want to try to explain in Slovene. I have about 500 stories that involve me saying the wrong thing at the wrong time... echoing something that someone else said immediately and in front of them without realizing I am doing so... sneezing phlegm onto someone else's math paper... falling on my face while giving 20 college kids a tour of campus... The earliest super awkward occasion that I can remember was giving a PROJECT TALK on making your own picture frames in 4-H when I was young. ''Just remember, you must leave one side unglued... which I forgot to do'' (so I'll just slide in this picture that I took with the judge leaving glue streaks across her face). My most recent awkward occasion involved going back to the bike shop (where I'd already been several times last week) to attach the cleats to my new shoes. I made a spectacle of having found the cleats that came with the pedals that I'd bought at another store on sale... only to realize that I left them at home, had to leave again, and knocked over a whole line of bikes on my way out of the shop.
A normal day in my life is anything but glorious. However, I've gotten so used to these moments that I no longer get embarrassed by them- I just take them in stride. Tell them as stories, even. Which is where the title comes in: The story of my favorite lack-of-social-skills-moment, the answer to Mateja's question if I had enough language skills:
Several years ago, the dream team took a trip to visit Kate Wasserman in Dallas, TX. Amanda, Tyler and myself packed into Tyler's car and hit the open road. There are many stories from this trip worth repeating, and many moments that I would like to destroy along with any videos that had been made later capturing these moments (I will seriously be very upset if you attempt to post a link here. Please don't).
Somewhere in the middle of this trip, we went to lunch with Tyler's aunt and uncle. We met them at their house after passing the first Chile's in existence (at which time I complained about how much I hate Chile's. It's got to be one of my least favorite restaurants in the world. Derek loves it though, and for this reason we had to go every year on his birthday from the time he had teeth until the time I moved to another country). For some reason, this was one of those days where I was not fully with it. A little slow on the uptake... drifting in and out of the conversations. One moment we were in the living room chatting about our majors... next moment, I'm fading in and out of convos in the kitchen ('Yeah! It's the first Chile's ever made- we'd love to take you all there for lunch)... next moment, Tyler's uncle comes over to me and out of nowhere GIVES ME THE SIDE HUG.
Yeah, I was confused about it too. I gave Tyler this look like ''What's wrong with your uncle? Why is he reaching out to hug me?''. Tyler just shook his head.
Apparently his hat was on the shelf behind me, and I misread, causing me to reach out and cling to him.
I cannot say that the awkwardness of the day stopped there. I also caused a lot of confusion in the parking lot of Chile's, also with hugging. Additionally, as I recall, there was a moment when someone stopped at our table to tell Amanda that her taco was the same size as her head. I had nothing to do with that moment, but its worth mentioning nonetheless.
________________________________________________________________
*Probably my extreme wisdom and maturity.
**Muhaha
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Mega-pumped
"There is no end to the adventures we can have if only we seek them with our eyes open." -Jawaharial Nehru
Love that. It's been really nice to contemplate 'adventure' in my life throughout the past year, as I've spent a good amount of time on a bicycle, traveling through these here Karavanke Alps... and for the moment- for the here and now, I am 100% sure that the adventure I'm living at the moment is right for the Nicole I am right now (yeah yeah, stick with me). And I'm also 100% sure that someday, although I hope to still be the proper Nicole (though perhaps a version that is somehow... more Nicole? Ha- ''further up and father in''), I will be pursuing very different adventures.
But this blog post is not about me, rather it is about an adventure that is not mine but that I am somehow lucky enough to be included in. An undertaking which I have smiled about prettttttttttty much continuously since I heard the news:
Matthew and Rachel are bringing a new life into this world.
Now, after this post, I will probably only refer to the baby as 'Megatron', seeing as more than 74 people liked that really clever and well done facebook page that was created by some genius(es) that cyberspace will unfortunately not identify. But for now I will refer to this baby as a little gem that is going to get to grow up with two of my favorite people in the world.
If you've had the pleasure of knowing Matthew and Rachel, you undoubtedly love them both individually. Rachel is fiery. She's got a passion about whatever she chooses to do, whether it be theater, advising freshman, supporting KU basketball, watching Titanic... she will succeed at anything she wants in her life- I know this, and the implications her character has for her new role as a mother is absolutely thrilling. She has always been responsible and down-to-earth and practical. She has also always been full of interesting things to share. She is always ready to listen (although you may need to call her 7 or 8 times before she'll notice that you need her), and she will travel great lengths to be there for you, even when she is tired. If you've seen her worry or felt her wrath, you'll have no problem imagining her being motherly. And if you are lucky enough to really know her well, you'll have no problem imagining her caring deeply and always.
And Matthew. The proctor we all know and love. The only one whose phone would connect with Lisa Eriksen's. Comedian. Genius. Dr. Gibson. Baby Jay. Always caring, always loving, always making fun of Rachel when she is not looking. Always, always willing to help in whatever way he can, or to learn how to help when he can't.
I love you two, dear friends. I am glad that I get to know you as individual people... and I am also glad that I get to celebrate the two of you together. To see the truly beautiful ways that you balance each other out and encourage each other. To see how love exists between you and how you exist among love. What a great adventure you have already been living. I am so very thrilled as you embark on a new part of the adventure- to see how this beautiful child will further balance you out and bring out parts of you that you might not even know yet.
Before I heard the news, I didn't know how I would take it... it's been said that I don't like babies (wait a second... I heard a song this one time, about a girl who didn't like babies or domesticated animals?), and I'd be lying if I said that they didn't make me uncomfortable in the past. Additionally, I am not even remotely close to being ready for this chapter of my life... but none of that matters. I am SO EXCITED. I am SO HAPPY. Rachel and Matt are having a baby, and it is going to grow up with hilarious and wonderful parents and be surrounded in love. Good work with those open eyes, Matt and Rachel- I'd say that you landed yourself on quite a worthy adventure.
Love you,
-Botra :)
Love that. It's been really nice to contemplate 'adventure' in my life throughout the past year, as I've spent a good amount of time on a bicycle, traveling through these here Karavanke Alps... and for the moment- for the here and now, I am 100% sure that the adventure I'm living at the moment is right for the Nicole I am right now (yeah yeah, stick with me). And I'm also 100% sure that someday, although I hope to still be the proper Nicole (though perhaps a version that is somehow... more Nicole? Ha- ''further up and father in''), I will be pursuing very different adventures.
But this blog post is not about me, rather it is about an adventure that is not mine but that I am somehow lucky enough to be included in. An undertaking which I have smiled about prettttttttttty much continuously since I heard the news:
Matthew and Rachel are bringing a new life into this world.
Now, after this post, I will probably only refer to the baby as 'Megatron', seeing as more than 74 people liked that really clever and well done facebook page that was created by some genius(es) that cyberspace will unfortunately not identify. But for now I will refer to this baby as a little gem that is going to get to grow up with two of my favorite people in the world.
If you've had the pleasure of knowing Matthew and Rachel, you undoubtedly love them both individually. Rachel is fiery. She's got a passion about whatever she chooses to do, whether it be theater, advising freshman, supporting KU basketball, watching Titanic... she will succeed at anything she wants in her life- I know this, and the implications her character has for her new role as a mother is absolutely thrilling. She has always been responsible and down-to-earth and practical. She has also always been full of interesting things to share. She is always ready to listen (although you may need to call her 7 or 8 times before she'll notice that you need her), and she will travel great lengths to be there for you, even when she is tired. If you've seen her worry or felt her wrath, you'll have no problem imagining her being motherly. And if you are lucky enough to really know her well, you'll have no problem imagining her caring deeply and always.
And Matthew. The proctor we all know and love. The only one whose phone would connect with Lisa Eriksen's. Comedian. Genius. Dr. Gibson. Baby Jay. Always caring, always loving, always making fun of Rachel when she is not looking. Always, always willing to help in whatever way he can, or to learn how to help when he can't.
I love you two, dear friends. I am glad that I get to know you as individual people... and I am also glad that I get to celebrate the two of you together. To see the truly beautiful ways that you balance each other out and encourage each other. To see how love exists between you and how you exist among love. What a great adventure you have already been living. I am so very thrilled as you embark on a new part of the adventure- to see how this beautiful child will further balance you out and bring out parts of you that you might not even know yet.
Before I heard the news, I didn't know how I would take it... it's been said that I don't like babies (wait a second... I heard a song this one time, about a girl who didn't like babies or domesticated animals?), and I'd be lying if I said that they didn't make me uncomfortable in the past. Additionally, I am not even remotely close to being ready for this chapter of my life... but none of that matters. I am SO EXCITED. I am SO HAPPY. Rachel and Matt are having a baby, and it is going to grow up with hilarious and wonderful parents and be surrounded in love. Good work with those open eyes, Matt and Rachel- I'd say that you landed yourself on quite a worthy adventure.
Love you,
-Botra :)
Monday, April 2, 2012
It's a secret no one knows... (and a blog post no one can predict the direction of...)
Today was a surprisingly good day. I usually expect good days (at least now that I am LOVING my job again), but every once and a while, I anticipate being a little bit down, especially when life brings a responsibility to do some hard or unpleasant things. But those things are not a part of the story for today- rather, today's story tells of peace and delight.
Let's back this thing up:
When I was little, I looked for happiness like all children: The temporary stuff... you know, those things that won't last (i.e. ice cream cones, cycling, roller-blading... oh wait...). Then I grew up (ha) and realized that ''Men can only be happy when they do not assume that the object of life is happiness'' (George Orwell). I think that this is a good word that echos the creepy words that have been abused over and over again through time... Do it for the greater good. But since I am not a Death eater or a dictator or one of those village watch people trying to win the best-community-in-England for the x-teenth time in a row, I can say that I believe many things need to be done for the greater good, leading to the most complete (i.e. mental, physical, emotional) health possible (take that with a grain of salt- as many of you remember, 25cent cone month at DQ was pretty much the happiest month of my life).
Part of that, for me, means following my heart- even if it means I am 7 time zones away from where I want to be to watch the KU defeat Kentucky (admittedly, I don't care so much about basketball, but I'm missing an opportunity to be excited with you amazing people, give high fives to strangers, and hopefully watch one friend accidentally give another a black eye).
I don't know where I will be next year. I know (well, sort of) what my heart is telling me... but am still working on the practical issues- which I am not generally as concerned with. I'm sure that sometime I will receive a rude awakening, but it still seems like following your heart (and by that, I hope that I mean a heart that exists to worship God in as complete of a way as possible) will lead you exactly to the place you need to go.
(I can't tell if I sound too much like a hippie or a religious fanatic writing this?)
It's really nice to see where many of you have ended up, also by following your heart for what you should at this point in life. What exciting things- Some of you in a different culture, a new environment. Some have embarked on the incredible adventure of love. Some are now bringing new lives into the world (!). How amazing to see the equally valuable things that we have all found ourselves doing. Beautiful.
It's been an interesting journey toward OWNING what I feel like my life has given me at this point. I don't think that I expected this path for myself years ago. I definitely didn't when I was a little girl- I remember imagining myself as a college student- I imagined I would have a serious boyfriend, a very large perm, and would live somewhere like California. I definitely expected to be fashionable. Talented, probably. This was probably at the time I also thought I would be an astronaut (before the very significant period of time where I thought I would be an actress in Disney Channel Original Movies). Interesting how none of those things really seemed to pan out... and how I've finally really started to be confident in my path regardless of its divergence from any of the expectations that I've had.
One thing that Slovenes are really really good at is OWNING whatever they're doing. If you've got a talent here, you are really proud of it. If you can sing, you sing. If you like singing, but are horrible, you sing anyway. If you've got any artistic ability, you enter into every art competition possible, if you like your shirt, but nobody else does, you wear it anyway. If your favorite animal is a honey-bee, you are not too embarrassed to write it in your letter to your American pen-pal. Perhaps these examples do not portray the depth to which you can feel it in these kids, but it has inspired me to try to own more of my own decisions and the things on my heart. And it's made me really motivated to follow up my decisions and my heart with ACTIONS that live out what I decide to do (note: I am not saying I'm SUCCESSFUL in this, but look- I'm tryin' here).
SO, although this is not where I expected this blog post to go, and although I don't think that I really have a right to give an emotional speech or advice, I'm going to try to encourage you to own whatever you're doing. I do not mean do whatever you said you would do once- that is stubbornness and, in my opinion, locks politicians and girlfriends and teachers into doing stupid shit. BUT the advice that I am trying to follow right now is to re-evaluate what is on my heart and then embark on 'whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable...' And embark on it with confidence and energy even if it leads to the unknown, trusting that it's on my heart for such a real reason that I will inevitably get to where I need to go.
Let's back this thing up:
When I was little, I looked for happiness like all children: The temporary stuff... you know, those things that won't last (i.e. ice cream cones, cycling, roller-blading... oh wait...). Then I grew up (ha) and realized that ''Men can only be happy when they do not assume that the object of life is happiness'' (George Orwell). I think that this is a good word that echos the creepy words that have been abused over and over again through time... Do it for the greater good. But since I am not a Death eater or a dictator or one of those village watch people trying to win the best-community-in-England for the x-teenth time in a row, I can say that I believe many things need to be done for the greater good, leading to the most complete (i.e. mental, physical, emotional) health possible (take that with a grain of salt- as many of you remember, 25cent cone month at DQ was pretty much the happiest month of my life).
Part of that, for me, means following my heart- even if it means I am 7 time zones away from where I want to be to watch the KU defeat Kentucky (admittedly, I don't care so much about basketball, but I'm missing an opportunity to be excited with you amazing people, give high fives to strangers, and hopefully watch one friend accidentally give another a black eye).
I don't know where I will be next year. I know (well, sort of) what my heart is telling me... but am still working on the practical issues- which I am not generally as concerned with. I'm sure that sometime I will receive a rude awakening, but it still seems like following your heart (and by that, I hope that I mean a heart that exists to worship God in as complete of a way as possible) will lead you exactly to the place you need to go.
(I can't tell if I sound too much like a hippie or a religious fanatic writing this?)
It's really nice to see where many of you have ended up, also by following your heart for what you should at this point in life. What exciting things- Some of you in a different culture, a new environment. Some have embarked on the incredible adventure of love. Some are now bringing new lives into the world (!). How amazing to see the equally valuable things that we have all found ourselves doing. Beautiful.
It's been an interesting journey toward OWNING what I feel like my life has given me at this point. I don't think that I expected this path for myself years ago. I definitely didn't when I was a little girl- I remember imagining myself as a college student- I imagined I would have a serious boyfriend, a very large perm, and would live somewhere like California. I definitely expected to be fashionable. Talented, probably. This was probably at the time I also thought I would be an astronaut (before the very significant period of time where I thought I would be an actress in Disney Channel Original Movies). Interesting how none of those things really seemed to pan out... and how I've finally really started to be confident in my path regardless of its divergence from any of the expectations that I've had.
One thing that Slovenes are really really good at is OWNING whatever they're doing. If you've got a talent here, you are really proud of it. If you can sing, you sing. If you like singing, but are horrible, you sing anyway. If you've got any artistic ability, you enter into every art competition possible, if you like your shirt, but nobody else does, you wear it anyway. If your favorite animal is a honey-bee, you are not too embarrassed to write it in your letter to your American pen-pal. Perhaps these examples do not portray the depth to which you can feel it in these kids, but it has inspired me to try to own more of my own decisions and the things on my heart. And it's made me really motivated to follow up my decisions and my heart with ACTIONS that live out what I decide to do (note: I am not saying I'm SUCCESSFUL in this, but look- I'm tryin' here).
SO, although this is not where I expected this blog post to go, and although I don't think that I really have a right to give an emotional speech or advice, I'm going to try to encourage you to own whatever you're doing. I do not mean do whatever you said you would do once- that is stubbornness and, in my opinion, locks politicians and girlfriends and teachers into doing stupid shit. BUT the advice that I am trying to follow right now is to re-evaluate what is on my heart and then embark on 'whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable...' And embark on it with confidence and energy even if it leads to the unknown, trusting that it's on my heart for such a real reason that I will inevitably get to where I need to go.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
You may have luck, but I am the luckiest of them all.
I believe that good things happen to good people. I believe that bad things happen to good people. I believe that all things happen to all people.
That being said, there are a few people who seem to exist outside of the rules. One such person was Gustavo- for those of you who've met him, maybe you remember the time that a bush next to him was struck by lightening while he was unscratched. Or the time that he noticed his bike was broken and found a wrench on the ground to tighten things up. Or the time his flip-flop broke and there was literally another shoe unclaimed on the sidewalk next to him. Or the time that his bike was stolen, but it was ok because someone gave him a saxophone an hour later. I've mostly just heard the stories, but when you meet him you can feel something in his aura that is different. Perhaps it's because he himself is carefree. I don't know exactly, but I do know that the world WORKS for Gustavo, and I am ok with that, because Gustavo will also work for the world.
Now, I wouldn't say that the world works for me like it does for Gustavo, but there is a hint in that direction. When I was little, I won almost every drawing that I entered my name into (perhaps to my mother's displeasure... seeing as I won things like a GIANT stuffed Penguin ((Lindsy- remember that???)) from the mall). But my luck didn't end with stockings and gas cards and stuffed birds, it's continued in more substantial ways in adulthood. I've certainly gotten lucky with the people that I've met while traveling (luck: possibly saving my life). I've caught the right person's eye at KU events to get shirts thrown directly at me in the size I want, I've happened to sing the right chicken-egg-development song to the right person landing me a job with KUUB, I've asked the right stranger for directions and ended up making a life-long friend.
And today? Today I had a much more Gustavo like experience. I woke up and had a gorgeous bikeride around Bled and was really pushed by a friend of mine to keep going further. I decided to stop by the grocery store on the way home, although I was worried about how to carry the jar of fefferonis home. Was it a problem? No way. Why? Because I saw some lady with samples. Of chocolate. And not just any chocolate! The very chocolate that I was hoping to find one of these days (because my sweet student Dejan gave me a bar of Honey-chocolate to give to my parents. But they already left, so I said I would try it and send the other half to them... but then I couldn't, because it was DELICIOUS (sorry 'rents)). I took a sample (obviously) and the woman asked me if I liked it. I said it was incredible, and she said... you know, if you buy 3 bars, I will give you this bag.
So now, I am home with all of my groceries, 3 bars of the best chocolate I've ever tasted, and a beautiful hemp grocery bag which I can use to carry my teacher stuff around.
Life is good.
That being said, there are a few people who seem to exist outside of the rules. One such person was Gustavo- for those of you who've met him, maybe you remember the time that a bush next to him was struck by lightening while he was unscratched. Or the time that he noticed his bike was broken and found a wrench on the ground to tighten things up. Or the time his flip-flop broke and there was literally another shoe unclaimed on the sidewalk next to him. Or the time that his bike was stolen, but it was ok because someone gave him a saxophone an hour later. I've mostly just heard the stories, but when you meet him you can feel something in his aura that is different. Perhaps it's because he himself is carefree. I don't know exactly, but I do know that the world WORKS for Gustavo, and I am ok with that, because Gustavo will also work for the world.
Now, I wouldn't say that the world works for me like it does for Gustavo, but there is a hint in that direction. When I was little, I won almost every drawing that I entered my name into (perhaps to my mother's displeasure... seeing as I won things like a GIANT stuffed Penguin ((Lindsy- remember that???)) from the mall). But my luck didn't end with stockings and gas cards and stuffed birds, it's continued in more substantial ways in adulthood. I've certainly gotten lucky with the people that I've met while traveling (luck: possibly saving my life). I've caught the right person's eye at KU events to get shirts thrown directly at me in the size I want, I've happened to sing the right chicken-egg-development song to the right person landing me a job with KUUB, I've asked the right stranger for directions and ended up making a life-long friend.
And today? Today I had a much more Gustavo like experience. I woke up and had a gorgeous bikeride around Bled and was really pushed by a friend of mine to keep going further. I decided to stop by the grocery store on the way home, although I was worried about how to carry the jar of fefferonis home. Was it a problem? No way. Why? Because I saw some lady with samples. Of chocolate. And not just any chocolate! The very chocolate that I was hoping to find one of these days (because my sweet student Dejan gave me a bar of Honey-chocolate to give to my parents. But they already left, so I said I would try it and send the other half to them... but then I couldn't, because it was DELICIOUS (sorry 'rents)). I took a sample (obviously) and the woman asked me if I liked it. I said it was incredible, and she said... you know, if you buy 3 bars, I will give you this bag.
So now, I am home with all of my groceries, 3 bars of the best chocolate I've ever tasted, and a beautiful hemp grocery bag which I can use to carry my teacher stuff around.
Life is good.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Science Club Day 4: PERCEPTION
'In the province of the mind, what one perceives to be true, either is true, or soon becomes so.' -John Lilly
Today I jumped into a rather difficult task- asking my 8th and 9th graders to enter into a psychological and philosophical debate about perception and reality. The one and only Danny Najera did a lab like this once. He showed my human anatomy dissection class a series of images and asked us to start contemplating perception. Since that time I've tried to include it (successfully and unsuccessfully) into MY lessons. It's hard though. Why? Because perception is insane.
Today I started the lab with some simple stations. One station- students eat a candy with their eyes closed and nose plugged- ok, not difficult. Demonstrates that your sense of smell deeply influences what you taste. Another station- students test their sense of touch by poking each other with scissors in various places on their body (appropriately...) and measuring the distance in between the scissors when students only feel one point. This is where the discussion of perception begins. If you feel one point when two are touching you- what is reality to you? Does it match with the ACTUAL reality of the world? And what IS actual reality? Does it exist at all???
I think that I love this conversation about reality so much because I have had some experiences in the last few years that has made me question reality and belief in the impossible. Maybe I don't always have a firm grip on reality. For a few years now, I've been living in the belief that whatever I want to happen will in fact happen. And because of that, I've gotten to be a part of some really cool things, go some really cool places (which the govt. paid- the only way I had a chance of affording these things), and see some really beautiful stories of redemption play out. For example, one person in my life spent a good deal of time addicted to meth. He was in and out of jail, and in his craziest moments threatened to kill someone. He is now doing alright and a part of that, according to him, is knowing that people actually believed he could be ok. Having someone see this crazy goal (him healing from his addiction to meth) as a reality was some sort of medicine that gave him the strength to go on. I guess I also think that you can be that medicine for yourself, if you believe that your own crazy dreams can come true.
Maybe I read too many of the 'Choose your own ending books' when I was little or read too many of the inspirational quotes that Jessica Heath may have had on stationary somewhere ('Shoot for the moon... even if you miss you'll land among the stars') but I have this belief that reality will be whatever I want it to be (which I hope and believe is also a part of something larger). And part of that is because I'm a natural optimist, but another part of that is because I believe in SO MANY crazy things happening that some of them are bound to... and when they do, it just fuels the fire for more.
I'm not positive that this is the way to go- sometimes I am crestfallen when reality materializes and I find out that I, in fact, totally missed the mark. But I think that there is something to be said for belief in the unlikely, or even impossible.
Love you all. If you need me, I'll be watching and re-watching 'I believe I can fly'.
Today I jumped into a rather difficult task- asking my 8th and 9th graders to enter into a psychological and philosophical debate about perception and reality. The one and only Danny Najera did a lab like this once. He showed my human anatomy dissection class a series of images and asked us to start contemplating perception. Since that time I've tried to include it (successfully and unsuccessfully) into MY lessons. It's hard though. Why? Because perception is insane.
Today I started the lab with some simple stations. One station- students eat a candy with their eyes closed and nose plugged- ok, not difficult. Demonstrates that your sense of smell deeply influences what you taste. Another station- students test their sense of touch by poking each other with scissors in various places on their body (appropriately...) and measuring the distance in between the scissors when students only feel one point. This is where the discussion of perception begins. If you feel one point when two are touching you- what is reality to you? Does it match with the ACTUAL reality of the world? And what IS actual reality? Does it exist at all???
I think that I love this conversation about reality so much because I have had some experiences in the last few years that has made me question reality and belief in the impossible. Maybe I don't always have a firm grip on reality. For a few years now, I've been living in the belief that whatever I want to happen will in fact happen. And because of that, I've gotten to be a part of some really cool things, go some really cool places (which the govt. paid- the only way I had a chance of affording these things), and see some really beautiful stories of redemption play out. For example, one person in my life spent a good deal of time addicted to meth. He was in and out of jail, and in his craziest moments threatened to kill someone. He is now doing alright and a part of that, according to him, is knowing that people actually believed he could be ok. Having someone see this crazy goal (him healing from his addiction to meth) as a reality was some sort of medicine that gave him the strength to go on. I guess I also think that you can be that medicine for yourself, if you believe that your own crazy dreams can come true.
Maybe I read too many of the 'Choose your own ending books' when I was little or read too many of the inspirational quotes that Jessica Heath may have had on stationary somewhere ('Shoot for the moon... even if you miss you'll land among the stars') but I have this belief that reality will be whatever I want it to be (which I hope and believe is also a part of something larger). And part of that is because I'm a natural optimist, but another part of that is because I believe in SO MANY crazy things happening that some of them are bound to... and when they do, it just fuels the fire for more.
I'm not positive that this is the way to go- sometimes I am crestfallen when reality materializes and I find out that I, in fact, totally missed the mark. But I think that there is something to be said for belief in the unlikely, or even impossible.
Love you all. If you need me, I'll be watching and re-watching 'I believe I can fly'.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Forty-Five minutes
Today I went to the doctor, the dentist, and got my blood tested in 45 minutes.
I've since lost an hour just thinking about how crazy that was.
I've since lost an hour just thinking about how crazy that was.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Megatron, Munchers, Mary-Kate Mondays, AMANDA COME BACK INTO MY LIFE!
Dear Amanda,
I was just thinking about what a wonderful team we were, and how far away you are. Maybe we can brainstorm more things that start with M, and you can come and visit?
Love forever,
Nicole
I was just thinking about what a wonderful team we were, and how far away you are. Maybe we can brainstorm more things that start with M, and you can come and visit?
Love forever,
Nicole
Human Soup
I have become rather good friends with one of my student's sister. Her name is Daša and it's been really great to get to know her. True, she's still not my age, but she's older than 13 and younger than 55, which makes her a lot closer than a good number of my friends here. Plus, there's something quite nice about being friends with someone younger than you. Something special, I do believe.
Before I came, I didn't think so much about coming to a small town, but had I, I would have expected to know everyone's whole family. And I have met several of them now from local events, from kids bringing their parents to frisbee, from students yelling to me from across the street, or from running into them at the grocery store*. In Daša's family, I know them even better because of the things that they have invited me to do with them (i.e. go skiing in Italy). It's pretty amazing. The other day she introduced me to her grandmother and grandfather, and we saw one of her uncles later the same day. Whole family? Yeah, I'm pretty much in.
But I guess that's not the limit, due to the small town atmosphere, the fact that I teach everyone's kid, nephew, cousin, whatever, the rarity of having a stranger living permanently in your town, and my very, very red winter coat, I am sort of known here. The community knows me as 'our Američanka' which I kind of really love.
In a way it reminds me of another time in my life... a time where I was just a regular student teacher in another small community, just trying to make it at Perry Lecompton High School. But the other members of the community were known to the school just like they are here.
My favorite part about that experience was lunch. Quickly I realized that the place to be during lunch was NOT with the teachers in the staff room, but in the cafeteria. On the court, if you will. In the paint.
Why was this the place to be?
Let me introduce you to the team:
1. Point guard- Mr. Scrimgouer (I never did know how to spell it). Shop teacher. Very tall man. Relaxed? Yes. Calm? Yes. In charge? Definitely. Ate two school lunches every day at the beginning of the year, until his wife started packing him ''healthy choice'' lasagnas. Afraid of blood.
2. Shooting guard- Mr. Haggard. Steady, dependable. Beloved biology teacher. My mentor. Incredible about giving me space and opportunities. Spent the whole time I was teaching building super awesome things like a giant Newton's cradle and hover craft. Knew everything about everything, really. Shared his muffins almost every day.
3. Power forward- Mr. Larsen. Fellow student-teacher. Hilarious. Well received. Fashionable. Ate from the cave every day out of comradery with the students and possible laziness. Spilled coffee on his pants every morning. The students noticed.
4. Small forward- Ms. Schmidt. You know me, so I probably don't need to repeat the usual compliments that I give to myself. Though I should add, amazing ability to dunk.
5. Center- Clint (Clive? Clay?). The local cop. Came almost every day during lunch because he didn't have anything else to do. Ate 2, sometimes 3 lunches. Big man. Full of stories. Loved anime.
Sub- Martin. Not one of my students. Came to enjoy our company. Not the healthiest eater... once saw him eat a tub of cool whip and a snickers for lunch. Heard he washed it down with a bottle of Hershey's chocolate 'shell' syrup.
As you can imagine, this was an extremely entertaining group of people. I had my plan period during lunch also, so I was able to stay during the entire lunch period if I wanted to, and usually that is exactly what I wanted to do. Amazing.
It's hard to pick a favorite memory from this team... it could be the time I brought fresh spring rolls:
Mr. S: WHAT are those?
Me: Spring Rolls! (almost take a bite)
Mr. S: Ahhhh! Wait! It's still got the paper. You're so excited to eat them you've still got the paper!
Or it could be the time I was denied giving blood (stupid anemia) and Mr. Scrimguer confessed being horribly afraid of needles and hating to talk about this stuff, which reminded Cliff of all of this days as a detective, and all of the things that he found. Which he told us about, much to Mr. Scrimguer's displeasure, throughout the rest of the lunch period.
Here school lunch is different. We have snack, but kids eat with their classes, teachers eat in the staff room. There is lunch, but it's not mandatory and kids eat right before they go home. The food is about 1000x better, but I'd give anything to have my old lunch back.
*Which, I should mention, is NOT my favorite place to run into kids with their parents.
Before I came, I didn't think so much about coming to a small town, but had I, I would have expected to know everyone's whole family. And I have met several of them now from local events, from kids bringing their parents to frisbee, from students yelling to me from across the street, or from running into them at the grocery store*. In Daša's family, I know them even better because of the things that they have invited me to do with them (i.e. go skiing in Italy). It's pretty amazing. The other day she introduced me to her grandmother and grandfather, and we saw one of her uncles later the same day. Whole family? Yeah, I'm pretty much in.
But I guess that's not the limit, due to the small town atmosphere, the fact that I teach everyone's kid, nephew, cousin, whatever, the rarity of having a stranger living permanently in your town, and my very, very red winter coat, I am sort of known here. The community knows me as 'our Američanka' which I kind of really love.
In a way it reminds me of another time in my life... a time where I was just a regular student teacher in another small community, just trying to make it at Perry Lecompton High School. But the other members of the community were known to the school just like they are here.
My favorite part about that experience was lunch. Quickly I realized that the place to be during lunch was NOT with the teachers in the staff room, but in the cafeteria. On the court, if you will. In the paint.
Why was this the place to be?
Let me introduce you to the team:
1. Point guard- Mr. Scrimgouer (I never did know how to spell it). Shop teacher. Very tall man. Relaxed? Yes. Calm? Yes. In charge? Definitely. Ate two school lunches every day at the beginning of the year, until his wife started packing him ''healthy choice'' lasagnas. Afraid of blood.
2. Shooting guard- Mr. Haggard. Steady, dependable. Beloved biology teacher. My mentor. Incredible about giving me space and opportunities. Spent the whole time I was teaching building super awesome things like a giant Newton's cradle and hover craft. Knew everything about everything, really. Shared his muffins almost every day.
3. Power forward- Mr. Larsen. Fellow student-teacher. Hilarious. Well received. Fashionable. Ate from the cave every day out of comradery with the students and possible laziness. Spilled coffee on his pants every morning. The students noticed.
4. Small forward- Ms. Schmidt. You know me, so I probably don't need to repeat the usual compliments that I give to myself. Though I should add, amazing ability to dunk.
5. Center- Clint (Clive? Clay?). The local cop. Came almost every day during lunch because he didn't have anything else to do. Ate 2, sometimes 3 lunches. Big man. Full of stories. Loved anime.
Sub- Martin. Not one of my students. Came to enjoy our company. Not the healthiest eater... once saw him eat a tub of cool whip and a snickers for lunch. Heard he washed it down with a bottle of Hershey's chocolate 'shell' syrup.
As you can imagine, this was an extremely entertaining group of people. I had my plan period during lunch also, so I was able to stay during the entire lunch period if I wanted to, and usually that is exactly what I wanted to do. Amazing.
It's hard to pick a favorite memory from this team... it could be the time I brought fresh spring rolls:
Mr. S: WHAT are those?
Me: Spring Rolls! (almost take a bite)
Mr. S: Ahhhh! Wait! It's still got the paper. You're so excited to eat them you've still got the paper!
Or it could be the time I was denied giving blood (stupid anemia) and Mr. Scrimguer confessed being horribly afraid of needles and hating to talk about this stuff, which reminded Cliff of all of this days as a detective, and all of the things that he found. Which he told us about, much to Mr. Scrimguer's displeasure, throughout the rest of the lunch period.
Here school lunch is different. We have snack, but kids eat with their classes, teachers eat in the staff room. There is lunch, but it's not mandatory and kids eat right before they go home. The food is about 1000x better, but I'd give anything to have my old lunch back.
*Which, I should mention, is NOT my favorite place to run into kids with their parents.
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