hannah.ananas

That Jacket

Tomorrow, I get to wear my brother’s pirate jacket, and I am thrilled(!). At long last, I am granted not only the occasion, but the permission and the ability to wear the jacket, and it looks mighty fine with the ensemble, I dare say.

My brother bought it at this cool resale shop called Lucy in Disguise, in Austin, Tx. When my mom had asked him what he had paid for the jacket, he said that it was “a bill”. I thought he was just being funny, saying that he had handed over some bill of cash money, and the change came back to him, because he didn’t really remember what he’d paid for it, or because he was thrilled at having spent so little on it, that it was a five- or ten-dollar bill, maybe even a twenty. However, as their conversation continued, I quickly discovered the term as being a vernacular synonym for the hundred-dollar bill. That my brother would have paid such a price for something like that meant that it must be, it necessarily was outstanding. And, truly, this jacket it. I envied him for it from the first time I saw it. I don’t even really love pirate-y things. Yeah, they’re cool, but I don’t ever want or need them. But this jacket was like (the cheesy tie-in of) treasure to me. It is just that wonderful.

And I finally get to wear it. Yippee! 😀

Post-a-day 2017

Sleep, or stare at the wall?

Do you ever find yourself lying in bed at night, thinking about nothing in particular, and just lying there with the last light still illuminated, unsure of what you are doing? It happens to me every so often. I wonder if it has to do with stress or decisions, or even something else like that. I was doing it just now, though I’m not sure why. I just know that I suddenly realized that I am uttlery exhausted, and yet I have not even tried to do my bit-o-writing and reading for the night so that I could actually go to sleep – I was just observing my fairy lights on the wall (my main night lights and room illuminations ever since I saw it at my cousin’s friend’s house when we all were in college), and not intentionally. It’s as though I want the moment or night to last longer, without realizing the want… or something like that, anyway.

I don’t know. I am exhausted, though, and that I do know.

Post-a-day 2017

A hug of love

Tonight, at an event, I came across a student whom I taught for a grand total of eight days, and whom I haven’t seen since those couple months ago. When she saw me, her delight was noticeable instantly, and her desire to hug me was almost palpable – she was almost shaking with the anticipation and desire, similar to a puppy wagging its tail as it waits desperately to be pet and loved on by its human. When she saw that I was okay with her hugging me, we hugged. It was a real hug, and not the common ‘meh’ version that feels like a required pleasantry instead of a genuine gesture of care for someone. She cared, and it was for me.

I almost began to tear up, but for the intense joy and ease that filled me and flowed out of me afterward. In that teaching job, I was incredibly myself with the students, and this was the kind of impact I left after only a single week. This impact, where a student can hardly wait to hug me upon sighting me, and declares fervently, “We miss you,” despite our having not seen one another in months, was clearly a powerful one. And I am grateful for the grace and strength I had to provide it in being myself. I was truly honored tonight.

Post-a-day 2017

Being a teacher… ouch

Being a teacher is hard. And by “hard”, I mean “incredibly difficult”. What calls to mind this idea today in particular – because we all know that there are loads of reasons being a teacher is difficult – is the aspect of life outside of school.

You see, to be a good teacher, the best one can be, requires arriving early to school, working through free periods during the day, actually teaching classes, working privately with students at lunch and/or after school, and then working at least a little bit more before going home for the night. By then, exhaustion is just about ready to set in, leaving time only enough to make it home, eat some food (maybe), and crash to bed. And then the alarm goes off at five-something in the morning to start it all over again. In other words, a truly dedicated teacher, at least in his/her first several years teaching a specific subject, works at least a ten-hour day daily, and has little to no time and/or energy to pursue anything else during the week. Social life just doesn’t exist alongside being a good, dedicated teacher.

Right now, everything is working for me. Right now, I have almost zero social obligations or immediate opportunities. I go early and work late every day, and I have this strong sense of ‘got-it-togetherness’. I am prepared for the following day by the time I leave for home in the evening. But I have no active friends. Sure, I chat with people at school from time to time, but we aren’t friends. Besides, they all seem to be doing things for various clubs and such for the school on the weekends. When I have wondered how things might be if I were a permanent teacher at this school, I have been almost certain that I would be staying even later for club activities, and sooner or later would find myself on campus or at activities (sports, possibly) for the school on the weekends. It really is wonderful to be an active part of a school. And that unfortunately means giving up most outside opportunities.

There is a delicate balance between having a life outside of school and making the school one’s whole life. Sacrifices must be made in either case – either giving up social time for school events, or giving up involvement with the school and kids (when kids are truly at their best, too) to go get drinks or coffee with a friend or family member. At my last two jobs, I wasn’t fulfilled as a teacher without being involved in things with kids outside of class. Be it playing in the band for certain events, singing songs together at the community piano, coaching lacrosse, or choreographing and assisting with the musical, those were the necessary pieces to rounding out the teacher experience and being fulfilled as a teacher. Unfortunately, those all meant giving up time that could have been spent on a life outside of school, getting to know people my own age or, believe it or not, older than I am. I could have spent the time running in the park. But I spent it with the kids instead. So, I was fulfilled somewhat as a teacher, and hardly at all as a person in life.

Anyway, that’s what’s been on my mind this evening, and is one of the many reasons why teaching is hard

Post-a-day 2017

Hmm…

I have felt recently as though I am at one of the most quizzical times in life. The feelings of being young and twenty-something are being contradicted by simple counting and addition, and the unofficial job status of ‘semi-wanderer’ seems more and more out of place. To add to it all, I didn’t even know the year when I was putting the date on a paper I was signing this morning.

Every other day, I have new feelings and ideas about the direction I want to pursue now and next in my life. Today, I consider one thing. Tomorrow, I am excited and content in pursuing that same thing. The day after tomorrow, that idea seems somewhat bleak. And then, the day after that, a new idea arises, and the cycle repeats itself.

For now, I think I need to stick with today and tomorrow, and what I will do with myself then. I will put forth my own good effort, and do well and good in the world around me. For some reason, that always had a wonderful result for everyone around me, including myself. As for the other things, I think they will slide into place as I take each of those daily steps that seem right for today and tomorrow. And, day by day, my life will be filled with such love and joy, shared with the world, as I never could have imagined from where I am right now. Baby steps and hope, as I learned from “What about Bob?” and “The Shawshank Redemption” (I plan to read the short story by Stephen King soon enough.).

Post-a-day 2017

Photography Skills…?

I don’t know what it is, but I apparently am great at photography. My cousin and aunt said that I really just have a great eye for it. I see what they mean, but I keep wondering if it is only for certain circumstances that I am any good at it all, that I only have an eye for specific photo situations and events. Sure, I had great ideas for a couple weddings, and a handful of other events in recent years, but they all shared in their nature-tied, almost rustic themes. Part of me wonders if I just choose to take photos of things that are already awesome, and I am merely documenting those things, as opposed to my taking whatever is in front of me, and documenting it in an awesome way.

That being said, there is another part of me that wants desperately to agree with them wholeheartedly, go find a good quality camera, and start promoting myself as a photographer. This is the part that tells me how I am always just a very harsh judge of myself, and the standards I hold are far beyond the usual standards for people, thereby making what I consider to be mediocre work of my own to be spectacular by regular standards. And I so want to believe this part of me…, but I don’t want to be wrong.

Then again, why do I not want to be wrong? It looks like I want not to be embarrassed for thinking that I have taste, and being called out about it, because I don’t actually have good taste like I’d thought. Also, that I want not to cause people to believe I am cheating them in any way…. and it looks like that’s about it. Huh… Well, I know that I have taste. Especially seeing as how I frown at professional photos that I see all of the time, because I am disappointed that the photographer would allow such photos to be paid for. As for finding an appropriate value for my “work”, let’s call it, I guess I can easily enough ask different people for guidance, and always verify with the “client”, shall we say, regarding an agreed upon value of the work. And, regarding my earlier concern/wondering, I could always just do photos for those similar settings, if it turns out that I’m only really great at those types of setups. Well, that’s too simple, almost.

Fortunately, the key word there is “almost”.

So, I guess that means that I am looking for a camera now, because my phone is not satisfactory for anything above instagram quality. 😛

Post-a-day 2017

Mass, Cats, and Weimaraners

Do you remember Wegman’s Weimaraners, the beautiful pictures and skits of the Weimaraner dogs with human arms? (William Wegman started all of that. Here’s an example.) And we hopefully all know the musical Cats. (Look up some photos quickly, if you need a frame of reference for the picture to have in your head of the style.)

Now, today at Mass, both of these things were relevant. My mom and I have had a somewhat silly time in Mass together the past several years, mostly due to a little book we found at, I believe, a dollar store. (It was a book of comic-type frames, based on The Bible and Christianity, and was entitled According to the Good Book. I can tell more about that another time, though.) We do not actively seek out distractions, of course, but we do inform the other if ever there is something truly worth noticing. This morning, after the priest had pointed out some facts relating to the scene choices of the stained glass windows, my mom leans over to me, and whispers that, “Baby Jesus has adult hands,” and “Saint Joseph is a lion… He was in Cats.”

Momentarily unable to comprehend, I noticed that she was looking at one of the windows. Sure enough, she was right. I let her know that I agreed with her, and that the baby Jesus reminded me of the Weimaraners with human arms. We said nothing more, but both struggled to calm ourselves from the our silent, trembling laughter.

A while later, the little girl in front of us, did something wonderful. She had already tickled us to silent chuckles earlier with an adorable, “Let us praaay,” mimicking even the tones of the priest, immediately after he had said it, as well as her unreal timing with leaning backward in her mother’s arms. During the singing of the Amens after the whole bread and wine changing to body and bread deal, the music powerful and faith being declared strongly through song, we look up to see this little girl facing her mother, held around the waist in her mother’s arms, leaning back as far as possible, arms draped down, hanging limply behind her, and her head dropped back… at the last “Amen”, she raised her arms straight up in the air, as though praying to and praising the great Lord above. It was truly beautiful, despite the comedy of the timing of her actions.

So now, this little girl, just as Mass is almost finished, finds the little envelopes at the end of the pew. The envelopes are for collection (donations) to the Church for a specific cause, and the cause was labeled with a golden starburst-shaped seal on the front of each envelope. When she finds the envelopes, she grabs them, and scoots back toward her older brother, and declares quietly, “I got invites!” The priest says another line or two, and then we hear her say, “Should we go?” I think my mom and I instantly began crying with laughter.

Another few moments later, we hear the brother say, “Your party lipstick,” and we see him doing her lipstick for her with a fake lipstick. I comment to my mother that ‘I bet Cats is playing at the party.’ And we continued crying with laughter.

Now, I am aware that this is not ideal Mass behavior, as we are well taught as children. We are nonetheless human, and so we have our little tidbits of fun at Mass here and there. Besides, it is a beautiful art to find unsuspecting joys in unsuspecting places. And come on, who wouldn’t agree that Saint Joseph must have been in Cats, based on that window?
The Nativity, as portrayed by today’s lovely stained glass window

The “Party Invitation”

Post-a-day 2017

Weddings and Children

A few years ago, I became aware of something new in terms of weddings, parties, and events: the effects of the presence of young children. At my cousin’s wedding reception, some of my family and I were near a couple with a baby. I had been strongly working to tune out he baby’s cries, when my aunt commented to another cousin of mine, ‘This is why we didn’t allow kids at your wedding.’ (Although, now that I write that, I feel like it might have been the cousin to say it about her own wedding.) It wasn’t that the baby was a problem. That was not at all the case. It was simply that the baby altered the atmosphere significantly for all of those around it.

This weekend, I experienced one of the strongest respects for the ‘No Children’ policy. Children are great, and I need not be convinced of this. I love children on their own turf, in their own environments. However, my former belief that excluding children from events was just because people wanted to get stupid drunk is now history. Without children, the atmosphere is at ease. Period. With children, almost every single time, at least one person is always a little stressed (watching the kids), and likely several people end up stressed and annoyed, as well. When a child is constantly running around, an unidentifiable parent allowing the child to be roaming free, things are at their worst for the other guests, because there is a sense of obligation felt to watch out for the young, solo child. Even when a child is attached to its parent, seeing parenting skills that are less than extraordinary is stressful just to see.

As I watched yet another person take away an incredibly breakable object from a kid tonight, – I even got to take away calmly a ceramic dish from this child earlier in the evening – my annoyance was raised just that much more. The kids were all really sweet and nice. But kids are incapable of being fully respnsile for themselves and their behavior, and these were kids. As I noticed with my stress levels last night, one rogue child can ruin a party’s mood. And much more so than an annoying adult. When an event is designed for children, then kids can be themselves, through and through. Weddings and most events of a similar setup are not designed for children, but for adults. And so the presence of children really just doesn’t work.

Post-a-day 2017

Cousin fun and virgin drinks

Tonight, we had family gathering time. As usual, it ended up in a long music session, filled with guitar and sing-a-longs. I love my family, and I love how musical we are. However, that is not the point here.

The family time tonight reminded me of the first time all of us were together at once: my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary celebration. At the party, my cousin Allison and I, and possibly also one or both of her brothers, took on the task of ordering unique drinks from the open bar. You see, we wanted to take advantage of the open bar, as the rest of the family and attendees were doing, but we lacked the age to enjoy the alcohol aspect of it all.

And so, we improvised. At ages 15 and 12 respectively, Allison and I took full advantage of the open bar in terms of experience. We initially ordered a virgin beverage, because we liked the specific beverage. However, we soon turned to our own game of coming up with ridiculous drink orders. We ordered things like a virgin rum and coke, and a virgin bourbon water. We just picked the drink we actually wanted, and found an adult mixed beverage that contained the desired drink, and then ordered it virgin. That way, we were ordering drinks at the bar, the way a bar is designed to be, and we enjoyed all the regular fun of ordering special drinks at an open bar, with the added enjoyment of the puzzle and ridiculousness.

I sure do love my family.

Post-a-day 2017

Family and music

I love my family. And I miss getting to spend time with them. I had somewhat forgotten the existence of one of my cousins, because I hadn’t actually seen him in so long. I knew he existed, of course, but it was as though I had accepted that it wasn’t ever an option to see him. And so, it was a wonderful surprise – though I knew in my head that he would be here ahead of time – actually seeing him and spending time with him tonight.

One of the things I love about spending time with him is his musical gift. He can be given any instrument, and, whether he has ever played it before or not, can be playing lovely music on it within a maximum of a few minutes. We always end up humming and whistling and singing beautiful music together, whether we have an instrument or not (though we often have at least a guitar).

Tonight was no different. He pulled out one of my favorite songs, and early on in the visit. Oddly enough, I hadn’t listened to or sung/played the song in years, and so it was a fun surprise. I had to look up the words, because it had been so long, but it was too good of a song not to get all the words right (“White Man” by Michael Gungor Band).

As he fiddled around on the guitar, my mom and I sat with him on the porch, listening to him play, and working on our puzzle/mystery boxes we were creating for his brother’s wedding reception this weekend. The kind of music he was playing reminded me of why I ever wanted to learn to play guitar in the first place. I want to play John Denver and Jim Croce music, and other things similar in style. It has always been my long-term, distant future goal, since it really isn’t the easiest music, but there are plenty of things I can learn as stepping stones (and I have learned a good bit of them). I just don’t play when I don’t have the company of someone else’s music.

When I am with my cousin, we almost always take the time to sit down and teach me something new and, of course, beautiful to play. Now that we are back living in the same country, we might actually be able to set up semi-regular music meet-ups for the two of us. We’ll see.

Gosh, I love my cousin.

Post-a-day 2017