work – Page 30 – hannah ananas

Wordplay

There is something about watching my students strain with the effort of counting by hand their 100-word-minimum essays at the end of their test that brings to me a flood of joy, tumult of joy.

First, their unreasonable reaction of having to count by hand 75 words the other day on a partnered assignment – now that was too much, and I merely scoffed at their shock that they had actually to Count the words…

Automatic word count on the computer has spoiled them, and they know no other way of obtaining a word count – some actually didn’t understand how they were supposed to know how many words they had, if it was hand-written… I just looked at them with doubt and distaste, and let them figure out (finally) that they have to count it themselves.

Then, the fact that they tend to annoy me just about every day with their nonsense and casual rudeness of chit-chat while I’m talking or when I ask for silence – “quieter” and “silence” are not the same thing, just FYI – plays a role.

When they sit down in class, all backpacks against the back wall, with only writing utensils and any notes they want to use – but nothing digital – and receive the article and accompanying packet that says they must complete it for a trade by the end of class, they suddenly realize that this task is important.

I take almost everything for a grade in class, but I think that most of them do not check their grades regularly, and so have no idea that I do this.

Today, wit bit written clearly at the end of the instructions on the packet, it somehow finally clicked for them: This is for a grade.

After I told them to begin, the room was silent.

And it remained silent.

This was the first time this class had ever been silent for more than about 30-45 seconds at a time…

… and I could not stop smiling.

I actually had to turn around and cover my mouth, I just couldn’t stop smiling at their lasting silence – they were also not only silent, but working, too.

We’ll see how they did… if they followed instructions throughout the quarter, they ought to have middle to high A’s on the exam… if they haven’t, well, then they won’t have so good grades…tant pis.

And so, nearing the end of this silent hour, I delighted in watching them, just for once, suffer a task, especially one that has always seemed so commonplace to and for me…

A whole new round of smiling popped out of my mouth at that point, and I loved it. 😛

Post-a-day 2019

The music returns

Man…

I started playing music in the evenings last week… I found an iPod that apparently was discarded to me by my dad (as it has his business card in the case and loads of music that seems very much like it would have been his music), and charged it, plugged it into my speakers, and played it on shuffle.

It was great.

Especially the part where Christmas songs popped in on occasion.

I loved having the music playing in the background all evening, as it made my space feel so warm and welcoming and loving.

I even put on my unicorn onesie (handed down to me, not purchased) while I did a little art project, and the whole evening was super lovely and fun.

And I was on my own.

And the two of those don’t often go together for me, which made the night all the better.

So, I’ve begun playing music from the iPod somewhat often in the evenings at home, as of this past week and a half-ish.

The other day, I had a strong desire – enough so to follow through with it – to pull out my trumpet.

I’ve played occasionally with a school instrument at my various schools these past several years, but I hadn’t taken this one out of its case since, possibly, about seven years ago.

But I really loved playing around on it.

i then guitared last night, and that was lovely.

Today, a student showed me a silly video of another student of mine playing the saxophone (we were talking about music and playing instruments during class today), and I was inspired to pull out and play my saxophone tonight.

It, too, was a lovely time.

And there seems to be something almost magical in the air around music in my life right now – I feel somehow that it is returning to me because it is time for music to be a strong part of my life again (not because my interests have changed in any way).

I hear music on the horizon, and I am delighted.

Post-a-day 2019

Insane in the membrane

Tonight, I had a bit of a breakdown: a sort of explosion of tears, accompanied by a few choice curse words – which meant I was really upset, as anyone who knows me well can attest – and a total overflow of frustration.

All because someone used my brand new blender, the blender which I hadn’t even yet used.

Someone used my glass and my fork (and didn’t even wash the fork), and I just went ahead and cleaned them, and moved on with my night.

But, when I opened one of my labeled private cabinets, I felt almost violated, definitely invaded – I could tell someone had moved things around in there, and I quickly discovered just what had been used… and, when I did, it was just too much for the end of this day.

It was time to cry.

I even said a few rounds of meditation before driving home today, because of the day up to that point.

I was settling down emotionally and mentally and physically by the time I arrived home and was riding my dinner.

And this sudden discovery, combined with that bit of everything else that hadn’t yet finished clearing, was just too much in the tank.

Tears and verbal expression of my stress were necessary.

I am still not st all happy about it, but I can tell that I mostly will be over it by morning… I might even forget about it, but the blender is a specifically sensitive subject (because it was specifically researched and selected, and costs hundreds of dollars, and, due to an error that occurred, was just this week replaced by the company… I do not let people use this blender, because I take extra special care of it, and I’m the one who pays for it, so I get to use it.), so that forgetting might not happen, after all.

I sent an e-mail to the community about it, and, knowing that I was so upset, I called my mom and asked for her help in composing an e-mail that expressed the necessary information, communicated clearly, and wasn’t pissed off like I was at the time.

(All my stuff is clearly labeled with my name – how could I not be annoyed at someone’s using my stuff, even if it were just stupidity on his/her part?… I kind of hate stupid people in the first place, remember?…)

Nonetheless, there was a lot of emotion at play today, on many accounts and on many levels of emotion.

Add to that the layer of sleepiness I reach by 8pm after waking at 4:10am, and we have a no-surprise cry situation when presented with high stress.

I can’t experience the feeling fully right now, but I do look forward to cracking up at the fact that I cried my eyes out – snot everywhere and everything – over a blender. 😛

P.S. One of the hardest parts for me about being a schoolteacher is the part where I cannot, for the sake of what most schools consider to be propriety, share openly with students about certain things, even if it is something that could and likely would make a huge difference in their lives, and something that would promote an amazing culture in the school and in the world at large…. ::sigh……

Post-a-day 2019

Another day full of energy

I asked God and the World to have me do what was best today, what was perfect.

Apparently, that turned out to be waking up at 3:37am to use the bathroom, and then going back to bed, only to go ahead and get up at 3:47 and begin my day, instead of waiting for my 4:10 alarm.

Then doing a solid workout at the gym, and heading to school for the team’s morning working, and catching just about every traffic light along the way, adding a full ten+ minutes to the drive – I kept asking, What are you having me avoid by being pushed back in my time path here?

Then forgetting until it was too late to grab a student and schedule a meeting with him.

Then passing a different way in the way to my room, only to discover that we could have great breakfast in the mornings – and then to have a delicious omelette and few sips of orange juice that satisfied every nutrient need for my body post-exercise and the general morning activity of the previous four hours.

Then organizing class materials, helping someone develop a good idea into a great one while I got myself some autumn tea, grading a bunch, and then sitting down outside in the shade for twenty minutes with an old priest on my way to lunch, discussing various aspects of the workings of his community’s life, plus a bit about language and culture – I’m working on getting him to offer masses at least weekly in French (which would be a great increase from the current ‘zero ever’ frequency).

Then my being shown love by a couple students as I obtained my lunch and took it to eat.

Then happily chatting with coworkers and showing a test to the department head for approval.

Then kicking a kid out of class and partly scaring the rest of the class.

Then forgetting about the kid for most of the class period, and eventually remembering and finding him sitting outside on the floor, joining him, and having a wonderful talk with him in which he Fi-Na-Lly got it, and due to which he now intends to pause to consider before Everything he does – you see, he discovered that he just really doesn’t think at all before acting, thus resulting in some terrible behaviors.

Then being silly yet helpful with my next class, and having an oddly at-home comfy environment for class as they did their test review work, and scheduling a morning meeting to help a student.

Then perfectly running into the person I was seeking when I was only halfway to where I was going to find him – and my being slightly disappointed at the journey being cut short, as I would not be able to run into another person I sought to schedule a meeting.

Then having to pause to use the bathroom, running into some students, and finally heading out.

Then, just as I was about to pull out of the parking lot, being flagged down by the exact person I’d hoped to cross earlier, and talking for a bit and scheduling our meeting for tomorrow.

Then singing, unsure as to why, a German praise and worship song that repeats, “Ich vertraue dir…” (“I trust you…”), and laughing at myself, first for singing that song with such sudden delight, and second for the struggle that is riding a Vespa/motorcycle with an open-faced helmet while singing – better watch out for bugs…

Then having to order a new helmet… 😛

Then running a silly errand to print something and it taking a crazy amount of time, while I gladly enjoyed the presence of someone I love and rarely see.

Then sharing something wonderful with my mom.

Then finding Crown Maple Syrup (not alcohol, but syrup that was aged in the barrels after the alcohol was bottled out of them, allowing the odor to soak into the maple), and sharing the discovery with family who were delighted.

Then coming home to Sunflowers and stacks of colored paper just inside my back/side door, sitting outside on the porch for a while, cooking and eating dinner, and heading up to shower and to ready myself for bed.

Then reflecting on the day, and discovering how so much of it were things that I could have seen as bummers as they happened, but that I allowed just to be as they were, without meaning…, and how beautiful it was – without forcing anything or stressing about anything – to have all that I desired in the day to fall beautifully into place, loads better than I had initially anticipated.

Life really does go beautifully when we let go and let God… that was my high school junior retreat theme, and it was awesome then, and remains to be awesome now – it works every time. 🙂

Well, I’m off to sleep, for an early morning meeting, preceded by an early morning workout, waits for me(!).

(I promise I’m still not a morning person…)

Post-a-day 2019

Being myself, laughing out loud*

Be the person you long to be.

Let go of whatever is holding you back, including yourself.

Accept the fears, acknowledge them, and allow them to be superfluous side comments in your mind.

Feel the pressure that time is upon you, and just start – then the pressure will be off.

Say what you mean, and mean what you say.

Be who you long to be, now.

These are my near-daily considerations…, plus specifics on who that person is who I want to be.

In January, I began slowly searching for what to do next in becoming that person… I knew it had to do with my physical body and my fitness level, but I didn’t yet know how that would turn out.

I got a friend to join me in my search, as I knew I needed the moral support to make it truly happen.

In April, I found the place where I wanted to belong.

The place where the person I want to be would belong.

101 workouts later, I am so much that woman, it is almost scary for me even to consider it – I have been afraid of never becoming that woman for so long, and it seems that I am actually being she, and now… I’m not waiting for 40, like I had once thought.

There is an image I’ve had for years, and it is of me when I am 40 – I live in a chic place, with a chic and gorgeous man, and, somewhere, there is a kid or few… every time I glimpse this woman, my breath is caught in envy – she is my every dream for myself…, all the better that she is myself, though my future self.

In the past several months, I have been taking on being she now, and not waiting for 40 anymore.

When I began these workouts in April, joined this gym, I knew I was taking a step I had never before taken toward being that woman.

Fitness would be only the catalyst for an explosion of transformation in who I am in life.

I knew I would end up fitter than ever before (though I grew up doing sports, and was always fit), and that fitness would help me be who I wanted to be.

I knew that I was acknowledging that, despite the fact that there are terrible deeds done by people constantly in this world, those people and those deeds do not define humanity, nor do they define my life.

I was acknowledging that being fit, being sexy, being the best physical version of myself need not be dangerous, despite what has happened to me in the past.

Besides…, now I could just kick the guy’s a**, if ever he – whoever any new he may happen to be – tries something terrible toward me… anyway…

My second class, I had to attend alone, without my friend who signed up with me.

When it got hard physically, and I felt the beginnings of the challenges to come that would change my body for the better, for the sexy self I wanted for myself, I cried.

I was alone and exposed, and it was emotionally scary.

For the next few weeks, whenever I hit those physical challenges, I cried – I was not accustomed to fitness and sexiness being safe, and so it was scary to know that I was doing work that would turn my body fit and sexy.

It felt like walking around Downtown Gotham at night, singing – as though asking for an attack from any which direction…, but I now knew that it wasn’t… in a way, I knew that Batman was by my side – please excuse the silly reference, but it is oddly applicable – … and he still is…, and it’s like I’m training to be Robin – I’ll always have Batman, but I can handle things on my own, too…. and, it just so happens to be that we have cleaned up Gotham altogether, and there are only the occasional bad guys now…

Anyway, enough Batman…

Working out was scary and actually made me cry from fear on the almost daily – not because of actual dangers, but because of perceived dangers from the physical results I eventually would have.

After a month of what I felt were too minimal results, I took my diet fully into hand – I did a mostly raw cleanse for two weeks, tried out some regular foods again afterward, decided I hated how the regular foods made me feel, and eventually took on my current diet of absurdity that has me feeling amazing, pretty much always.

I currently weigh – and have weighed for a few months now – less than I did at my fittest, back in high school, and I still have some more visible patches to relieve.

I fit into all of my shorts, and have had to alter some of them, because they were too big, only weeks after they suddenly fit again.

Just about every item of clothing I own…, actually no… some of my clothing is just a bit too big, because of how I’ve shaped out and slimmed down, but some of the best pieces from my wardrobe look absolutely amazing on me.

I’m almost totally comfortable in a swimsuit, and I can get over it and wear one when circumstances involve swimming.

I have dropped several percentage points in my body fat, to the point that I am in a fancy percentile of really healthy people.

My butt is about 75% muscle now, and I kind of can’t stop checking it (to make sure I wasn’t exaggerating on that estimate)…, and it makes me smile with delight every time I rediscover how much muscle there is there now.

I find myself looking at and feeling my muscles somewhat as a pastime nowadays, and it makes me chuckle every time I notice that I am doing it.

I’m not (socially) afraid of attractive men, and I don’t feel inadequate around them or attractive women.

I am stronger than I have ever been, and by far.

And not just physically.

I teach high school boys, and I could totally take a good chunk of them – it’s actually funny seeing the weights some of them use at weightlifting practice, when I consider that I used to think them so strong and fit compared to “adults” who are not in the prime of life and have ‘let themselves go’.

I now see that the prime of life is more about when we take on life and take on being our best possible selves, and much less about an age.

(e.g. “Sexy Old Man” at the gym, as my friend always calls him, is fitter than probably all but a handful of these boys, and even that handful is questionable.)

I practically bounce when I get out of bed in the mornings, and I glide with ease down and up my stairs (in the dark), like I have been up for hours and have stretched and gone for a run…, instead of rolling achingly from bed, and creaking down the stairs, everything just a little too uncomfortable to be moving so much so quickly.

I only feel lame in terms of my fitness when I look to compare myself with others at the gym – who, by the way, are some of the fittest people I’ve ever seen in life, so it’s really no biggie there – so I aim to remind myself that that is not a necessary comparison, but merely a point for encouragement.

And it is encouraging, so long as I keep it straight in my head (which has been easier and easier the further I’ve come with everything these past months).

I am a little bit in love with my gym, and its role in helping me – in being such a valuable tool for me – to become this person I so long to be.

I am extremely grateful – to the point that words cannot express, and only a good, long look into my grateful eyes could possibly portray – to the owner of my gym and to the coaches there.

To the owner, I am grateful for his stand to have an exceptional gym.

Period.

He does not settle – be it in something that improves his gym or himself, he will make it happen, thereby encouraging, enabling, and empowering others to do the same for themselves in their fitness and, therefore, their lives.

Also, I love his humor – I laughed pretty hard today – though I wouldn’t say he jokes around much… genuine is more the word for how he shows up in the world.

And, for his genuineness, I am the most grateful.

He cares, and it shows in everything he does.

And it is always felt, and forever appreciated.

His gym is a place of love and inspiration, and encouragement to be the best possible version of oneself – it is no wonder that it is his gym I ended up joining, though without knowing what exactly it was that drew me in at the time.

For the first time in my life, I am bummed when I ‘don’t get to go to the gym’, as it now is phrased…, because I actually love going there.

I still am super focused on myself and my own training during the workouts, but I even enjoy talking to and with people now, because he has a gym filled with great people – these aren’t meatheads or dopes, but awesome people, every one of them…., and they are all there, because people always end up being surrounded by similar people.

If you have an awesome and amazing and fun gym owner, you get a gym filled with awesome and amazing and fun people.

And I am honored to be a part of their clan, and forever grateful.

Five and half months in, 101 workouts completed, and I know that this is one place where I belong.

I just worked out this evening, but I – despite never having been and still not being a morning person – am practically excited about getting up for the 5:15 class in the morning.

Who knew life could alter so much – and for the better – just by joining a gym? 🙂

🤗🙏🐪

🦖 Rawr, World – here I am. 🦖

“Let’s Freakin’ Go”

*because 101… lol 😂

Post-a-day 2019

No School Blues

Well, I woke up this morning to an e-mail declaring school to have been canceled for the day…

And I was disappointed.

I had actually been looking forward to the day, to being on a schedule, to having to be somewhere, to being able to be with my kids…

And it all was canceled.

What’s worse, I had gone to bed early, and missed getting ran adjustment from the chiropractor while he was in town, because I needed to have enough sleep to be able to get through the day and my workout and everything today…, but school was canceled just as I was going to bed, a while after I had checked my e-mail for the last time…

And then, it didn’t even rain almost at all today – my one consolation was going to be glorious and beautiful rain, and we only had that for maybe an hour this evening, and hardly at all did it even sprinkle during the day(!!!).

Sigh…

Anyway, I still went to the gym at noon, and it was great.

(Although the gorgeous individual was, naturally, absent – why would I expect such good luck on a day like today, anyway, right?… I somehow knew it would be that way, so I was already mentally prepared for that one, anyway…)

I even visited with my mom a while afterward, while she was working in town.

But then I came home and ate and cooked food and ate some more, and watched a movie… I didn’t even go dancing tonight… Instead, I am sitting on my bed, getting ready to go to sleep so that I can get up early for the 9am workout tomorrow…

The only positive part about all of that is that tomorrow’s workout will be my 100th workout since joining the gym.

That’s five and a half months that we have been members at his gym (after tomorrow, that is, of course)… and one hundred classes will have been accomplished as of tomorrow morning at 10am…

Weird for me to consider all of this…, but I’ll give some solid reflection and then dedication to expressing my findings tomorrow, after the workout at some point…., acknowledge how well I’ve done and how far I’ve come and all that Jazz…

Anyway, goodnight…

P.S. On that last note, I was invited to an Astros game today, and the game starts after 6pm tomorrow (aka loads later than I care to have one start), and I actually agreed to go…, so things have definitely changed for me these past several months…

Post-a-day 2019

Productive in the storm

I went to 5:15am workout class.

I impressed a coach with my stretchiness (which has been a recent acquirement due to my routined stretching each night the past few months), and then worked really hard, almost to the actual point of hurling… 😛

Then I went to 6:45am lacrosse practice (morning weightlifting practice + conditioning), and I even helped make the kids do the weightlifting properly and fully.

I felt super knowledgable in the weight room, and thereby discovered that I had never expected in my life for that to be such an easy and comfortable terrain for me – and was through that pleased.

I then helped care for a kid who hurt himself.

Then I taught class at 8am.

Then I hosted a secret meeting with a few students who are now collaborating with me on an awesome project for our class (partly as my goodbye party and present for them all, and partly as something I have wanted to do for years, but for which I have always lacked the desired collaborators).

Then I taught more class.

Then the rain was so bad that more than half of my next class could not come to class, and so they played a bit of ball in the classroom while listening to two French songs, and then we talked French culture and fun facts, before heading outside to observe (from a safe location) the storm and the flooding all over our campus.

We listened to Prince Royce and talked about how I really want them all to come to the dance club I am helping teach for partner dancing, and several totally agreed and with genuine enthusiasm (‘I’ll come… it’s senior year – why not?’).

Then I talked with students, as they waited for class and I ate lunch.

Then we were told that surrounding roads were flooded, and no one could get in or out.

Then I graded a bunch, because no one was allowed to change buildings anymore due to lighting all over the place, and so my last class was canceled.

Then we were told that the roads were clear enough to get in and out, but with caution, and not all of them were…, but we could go ahead and leave on time.

Then I came home, did my necessary laundry, fixed a toilet – a first for me, and a task that truly impressed me – and then visited with a neighbor for an hour or so, and then came back home and found some desired photos to help with the secret project, showered, and, for the third night in a row, listened to music while getting ready for bed (including right now)… (and it is lovely)…

Then I remembered an art opening that was forgotten in the rain…

Now, I write this, and prepare to sleep and do more wonders tomorrow. 🙂

Post-a-day 2019

“The oven looked awesome and so did I”

I asked him why he took the photo, and he replied honestly,

The oven looked awesome and so did I hahaha 🤷🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️

He, of course, corrected “oven” to “ocean”, but I knew what he meant.

He was not being conceited, nor was he being rude or nasty or macho or anything else negative… he was sharing truly with me, openly and honestly.

It was a gorgeous photo of a gorgeous swimsuit-donned, tanned, and tattooed man on a spectacular scene of two-toned blue ocean water and a blue sky of yet another blue, and the man was smiling with practically no eyes, so large and true was his grin.

I would have longed to have taken such a photo – I would be proud of it for him…, but I would be terrified of such a photo of myself.

To come across as sexual, even sexy, at times, has been ingrained in my mind to equate wrongness, shame, something terrible for myself and the world.

I have only recently begun to appreciate such images of others, and am working on valuing such an image of myself – in accepting it as appropriate as part of my human expression in this life.

My next step in that process, I feel, is being comfortable with a photo like the one I had discussed with this guy tonight.

As he mentioned in our conversation, the intention behind the photo was to show something beautiful – his father had declared the scene and the son as gorgeous, and so photographed what stood before him (as I gladly would have done)… he was not trying to catch anyone’s eye, or get anything out of it – he was just sharing the wonderful memory and scene with the world (for which I and everyone else I know who has seen the photo have been grateful).

So, I want to create some photos of me that are beautifully gorgeous and that I would want to share with the world for their beauty, and then I want to share them with the world.

Yes…, that is my next step. 😛

Let’s do this. 🙂

P.S. Our whole conversation began out of a conversation my friend and I had, regarding our shared experiences of body image (though from different backgrounds and for different reasons), after she posted this, which included a somewhat sultry photo of her posing on the beach.

She is still Christian, and more beautiful than ever in her confidence…, and I regularly use her as inspiration in my own life, to help me to challenge my own fears and struggles in life that I have yet to transform.

Post-a-day 2019

A mouthful

I tend to sing when I’m in a good mood.

Not always, but regularly and somewhat often, if I am in a good mood, one can find me (by sneaking up, typically, or else I’ll quiet down somas not to bother others) singing and humming songs as I go about my day and night.

This includes when I am in transit between locations, my singing habit.

However, seeing as how I typically drive a Vespa most of the time now, it has been a funny transition to not singing while driving.

Why is that, you ask, that I must not sing while driving?

Well, even though I am in a good mood just about every time I get on that scooter, and so start singing a good amount of the time, of I were to continue singing once going, I would end up not so happy, due to a mouthful of bugs.

Yes, an open mouth with no windshield while driving is almost always a bad idea.

And so, unfortunately, whenever this thought occurs to me when I am singing as I start out on my bike, it makes me smile really big, making it hard to keep my lips together, which makes me smile and laugh even more, and then makes it even harder not to have a huge and toothy grin showing… it is a tiny but important battle I have with my lips in these situations, and it is utterly hilarious.

In short, singing in my bike would result in a mouthful of bugs, so singing is not really allowed while going faster than about fifteen miles per hour. 😛

P.S. I have discovered two things from my highway travels to work each morning.

First, heading in the opposite direction of rush-hour traffic on this highway apparently does not have “Going the speed limit” on its list of approved activities – it seems that ten to fifteen over the posted speed is more the norm for people, while the opposite direction chugs along at around thirty in its morning traffic.

Secondly, my neighborhood smells like amazing fresh breads in the early mornings on weekdays, and like sizzling bacon on Saturday early mornings… I’m not sure yet about Sundays, though… 😛

Post-a-day 2019

The past in the present

I recently came across this bit of journal-esque writing I did several years ago, and, since I found myself reading almost addictively, and I happened also to find it a bit hilarious to see how young I came across – which makes me wonder if I actually sound much older now, six years later – I figured it would be fun to share here, to see now how I wrote in the past… the past at present, so to speak. 😛

Therefore, happy reading. 🙂

……….

Mon 4 March, 2013

Today I am sitting on the couch. That is not to say or to suggest that this, sitting on the couch, is such an out of the ordinary activity – though it has been the case that for the previous seven months leading up to this week have left me without a couch on which I even could set myself. It is simply to state that today, I am sitting on the couch. I am not really doingmuch of anything else. Unless of course you would like to believe that breathing, watching a film, listening to music, eating food, digesting, drinking drink, and the occasional conversing with one’s stepfather are considered “doing something”. In that case, I’m doing quite a lot today, and am being very productive. However, in my head at least, that is not the case, and I am not up to much today. I am simply sitting on the sofa (Oh, look: I’ve used the word “sofa” this time. Such creativity is at work in me today!). I think it’s because I’m avoiding doing anything else. Perhaps I would feel guilty if I put my efforts to something else other than that which my mother wishes for me to do…. or, for that matter, other than what my father and stepfather wish me to do. That is organize out things in the house and get a job that pays well. They would likely say that they just want me to get a job, almost any job. Just a job that pays is their goal. However, if I were to get a job that pays, but the job is not very fancy and does not pay very much, they would very much be dissatisfied. For example, if I began work with the trash pick-up in the neighborhood, they would not be so proud as to say they were glad for the job. They would see it as an as-short-as-possible-term job for me, waiting for me to get ‘a real job’. What if I profess myself as a long-term devotee to trash pick-up, and that I see it as the first step in making a change in the world? That I must absolutely do this job so that I can understand people better in order to change their way of thinking. That by starting at the base, by discovering what they see to be trash, I can then begin to alter what they see as valuable. What if I do that? Well, I don’t know, but it ultimately does not matter, because I know that is not what I am going to do. Although there might be some value to that idea. I seem to be good at that: pulling some jargon out of nowhere in attempt to prove some point that I don’t fully believe, and then find myself with a quite amazingly powerful argument. I guess it’s one of the talents God has given me. I think it came out of my mental expansion, or whatever one would like to call it. I’ve spent a good deal of time – though time is completely relative, and I have only been physically around in this body for a short time in comparison to the world and, of course, to other people who have been around for “ages,” as women in their forties and fifties and sometimes even thirties an dupper twenties like to say. As I was saying, I’ve spent a good deal of time studying people, and a bit their cultures. I even did it semi-officially for a while in high school and college. More in college than in high school, though I think that fact is somewhat irrelevant. Anywho – that’s a word I’ve come to enjoy in my lifetime, though I’m not actually sure it’s technically a word. But what do technicalities matter anyway when we’re dealing with full self-expression? Anywho, I’ve studied people throughout my life by simple observation and conversation. And interaction, of course. I have spent my whole life sitting on the sidelines, just watching people pass by, taking notes in my little notebook full of comments of opinion about the world around me, completely missing my own participation in it. No, no. I have been quite the participant in life. I just have paid attention while doing so.

My clock on this computer shows that it is currently 20.29. It is somewhere that proclaimed time (speaking of proclaimed time, my computer will tell me in just a moment that it is 20.30). However, that is not technically the time here (oh, look: a technicality). The time here is actually, well now, 13.30. I mentioned that I hadn’t had the availability of a sofa for the previous seven months. That is true. I was living in Wien in a shared room, with two closets, two beds, two desks, two night stands, and a set of shelves comprising the furnishings, and a slightly musky odor filling the air-tight room when my co-habiter was around. Now, the point of sharing this just now is unknown to me. However, I will use the opportunity to make a connection to my studies of people. I was in Wien to learn German. So I said and thought, anyway. I learned much about the peoples living there, as well as much about myself. I also very much developed myself, and was, for the first time in my life, able to proclaim honestly and whole-heartedly that I was exactly the person I wanted to be. Rather, that I was being the person I wanted to be. I still am that person. And that’s great, actually. The trouble comes in, however, at the point where I’m not entirely sure what to do with that person, now. So I’ve done my cultural study in Wien, I’ve learned a good deal of German, I’ve met and visited the family of mine who lives in Germany (and has for hundreds of years), and I have returned to Houston, Texas, where I technically lived before embarking on this last European adventure. I did want to avoid returning, and even began to set up things so that I could succeed in avoiding the return. At least for a while. But the fact that I am here right now shows that I did not do that. I said to myself that to avoid something means to leave something incomplete in your life. After I said that, I realized that I needed to return to Houston. I didn’t actually need to see or talk to any specific people in Houston. I just needed to return to Houston. Because by not returning to Houston, by avoiding the return, I was avoiding what came with the return. And that’s the next step of my life. I’ve always had something sturdy on which I could rely for my immediate and somewhat near future. Until now. And by not returning to Houston, I could avoid dealing with that, with my lack of suredness, with my fear. I would be hiding a fear inside of me. And hiding things really just doesn’t work. No matter how much we try to do it, we cannot succeed in keeping something hidden. Not completely. We ultimately reveal all that is hidden within us, wheter verbally or not. I think it is part of our nature as humans. We’re just plain blabber mouths with everything. If our mouths don’t give it away, our emotions and reactions most certainly do.

A friend once sent me something that said “Only trust people who like big butts. They can not lie.” It still makes me smile, although that friend seems to be in a dissapeared mode right now. He’ll come around. Hopefully it will be before he dies. That would be quite a disappointment for me, and even for others, as he has a lot of potential to make an amazingly large difference for a great number of people in this world, as well as for the natural side of this world. His impact will likely still be large if he doesn’t alter his current way of being, though it will be quite limited and likely very disappointing in comparison to the one he could make with a simple reappearing act. We’ll see. Well, someone will see, at least. I don’t know that you and I will see the future of his situation, or even that I will see it.

So, I said I was not doing much today. I changed my mind. After watching that movie, I was inspired. I still am inspired, and by that film. I changed my footwear and went outside to play some volleyball and to pursue my desire to learn to skateboard. I think we can pursue all of our desired activities, though there is only one time in our lives where we will actually succeed with them. I tried playing guitar several times as I was younger, but never went past a few chords in the best attempt to become a guitar player. In the last year, I have actually taken my own steps, extra steps, to learn to play the guitar. I don’t play much, but I learn to play songs that I like, and I oftentimes become a great deal of ease and release when I play, rather than the struggle that comes to a beginner of a foreign task, as it once was for me. After years of attempts at guitar-playing and even more occasions of stopping the attempt, I finally can play guitar. I’m not amazing like different performers or people who play ‘just for fun’, but I can play and I enjoy playing, and that’s always been the point of my learning to play guitar. The point of this: I’ve finally fulfilled this desire that I’ve attempted several times in my life to fulfill. And the point of that point: We won’t reach certain things until the time is right. The time was finally right for me to learn to play guitar, so it actually worked for me this time – my head was in the right place at long last. This skateboarding thing is similar. I’ve wanted to skateboard as far back as I remember my brothers starting to skateboard. Every attempt has left me unsuccessful, still scared, and oftentimes hurt. I’ve thought for months on this, though, and I think my hesitation, cause by my fear, has been a major factor in my getting hurt. Today, I was not only putting myself out there confidently on the skateboard, but I was almost not even present to a fear. Once I let go of my hesitation, and look at the logistics of the activity (that it required that one just keep balance and GO), it becomes something completely different. It becomes somethign do-able. Yes, it takes practice. But I am capable of it. I find that really cool. Uh-oh. That last sentence might be giving away my age (as though my writing in general in no way does that already). Okay, as I sit here typing, taking the occasional sip from this bottle of Organic Raw Kombucha juice, … I don’t actually have an end to that sentence. I just wanted to say what I was drinking, I think. My aunt is actually making her own Kombucha juice right now. My cousin, her son, apparently taught her how to do it. I believe it takes several days, if not weeks, to make the juice. It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case. It tastes like it’s been sitting somewhere for weeks before it was bottled and kept in a cooler. It always does, Kombucha juice.

Let’s go back to the part about my age. I was reading a book recently where it was mentioned that adults, grown up people, are nearly obsessed with numbers. Numbers like how old one is or how long one has done something or how far away one is from something or what time one will arrive or how much something costs and the likes. That wasn’t exactly what the book said. It’s what I’ve specifically noticed as being significant to adults since my reading that. I’ve also noticed how I tend to do that. I’ve been working on stopping that. It’s been gonig quite successfully, actually. I do it less and less, and I notice almost every time when I am considering asking a number question, and I opt often not to ask it, as I see the lack of any importance in hearing the answer to the question, thus losing my point of asking the question. But to apphease the adult in me as well as the adult in you, I shall give you at least a few numbers. Seven, twenty-two, three and a half, a few thousand, and eleven hundred.

Okay, elaboration. I’ve just returned from seven months abroad, becoming the person I’ve always wanted to be. Just a few days ago, I became officially twenty-two years old. I completed college in three and a half years. I currently have a few thousand dollars of school loans to repay (I think). And I expect that finding a job that gives me at least eleven hundred dollars a month will be enough for me to live sucessfully on my own for a while until I find something else to do with myself. Oh, and my name means “Grace” in its language of origin. To me it just means “me”, though that’s sometimes scary, as in the times when someone says it with annoyance or frustration, suggesting I’ve done something upsetting and now have to work hard to make things good again. I think to most people, it’s just a name, though. Hannah is it. Hannah banana to certain individuals. I enjoy when people call me Hannah banana. Probably because it shows a specific enhanced degree of love when they say it, when they decide or choose to use it.

Well, I’m going to go back outdoors. I’ve had a good break here writing. Now I’m to continue my goals of improving my volleyball (re-enhancing it, actually, after several years of not playing almost at all) and skateboarding performances. I’ll write again, and likely soon. I guess my sitting on the couch today has altered. Perhaps it’s like addiction problems and other problems. Admitting that one has a problem is the first step to solving the problem. My problem was sitting the day long on the couch. I feel it to be utterly too underproductive for my capabilities. So, once I admitted that fully, I was able to rid myself of the problem. Cool.

13 März 2013

Heute haben wir einen neuen Papst. Francisco. Er ist ein Jesuiten. Sehr cool.

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I’ve decided I want to write a book. Not a book like everyone else. But a book in present tense. Yes, in present tense the whole way through. I tell a story with the book, but it hasn’t actually happened until the reader reads it. So to speak. 🙂 Well, that’s my idea, anyway.

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P.S. The programming is likely to destroy my double spaces after periods, so, please, kindly ignore that change, and assume the appropriate spacing after each period… yes, I’ve shared all about my opinion on the spacing here… ugh!

Post-a-day 2019